The Naturalist on the River Amazons

by Henry Walter Bates

AN APPRECIATION

BY CHARLES DARWIN

Author of "The Origin of Species," etc.

From Natural History Review, vol. iii. 1863.

IN April, 1848, the author of the present volume left England in company with Mr. A. R. Wallace--"who has since acquired wide fame in connection with the Darwinian theory of Natural Selection"--on a joint expedition up the river Amazons, for the purpose of investigating the Natural History of the vast wood-region traversed by that mighty river and its numerous tributaries. Mr. Wallace returned to England after four years' stay, and was, we believe, unlucky enough to lose the greater part of his collections by the shipwreck of the vessel in which he had transmitted them to London. Mr. Bates prolonged his residence in the Amazon valley seven years after Mr. Wallace's departure, and did not revisit his native country again until 1859. Mr. Bates was also more fortunate than his companion in bringing his gathered treasures home to England in safety. So great, indeed, was the mass of specimens accumulated by Mr. Bates during his eleven years' researches, that upon the working out of his collection, which has been accomplished (or is now in course of being accomplished) by different scientific naturalists in this country, it has been ascertained that representatives of no less than 14,712 species are amongst them, of which about 8000 were previously unknown to science. It may be remarked that by far the greater portion of these species, namely, about 14,000, belong to the class of Insects--to the study of which Mr. Bates principally devoted his attention--being, as is well known, himself recognised as no mean authority as regards this class of organic beings. In his present volume, however, Mr. Bates does not confine himself to his entomological discoveries, nor to any other branch of Natural History, but supplies a general outline of his adventures during his journeyings up and down the mighty river, and a variety of information concerning every object of interest, whether physical or political, that he met with by the way.

Mr. Bates landed at Para in May, 1848. His first part is entirely taken up with an account of the Lower Amazons--that is, the river from its sources up to the city of Manaos or Barra do Rio Negro, where it is joined by the large northern confluent of that name-- and with a narrative of his residence at Para and his various excursions in the neighbourhood of that city. The large collection made by Mr. Bates of the animal productions of Para enabled him to arrive at the following conclusions regarding the relations of the Fauna of the south side of the Amazonian delta with those of other regions.

"It is generally allowed that Guiana and Brazil, to the north and south of the Para district, form two distinct provinces, as regards their animal and vegetable inhabitants. By this it means that the two regions have a very large number of forms peculiar to themselves, and which are supposed not to have been derived from other quarters during modern geological times. Each may be considered as a centre of distribution in the latest process of dissemination of species over the surface of tropical America. Para lies midway between the two centres, each of which has a nucleus of elevated table-land, whilst the intermediate river- valley forms a wide extent of low-lying country. It is, therefore, interesting to ascertain from which the latter received its population, or whether it contains so large a number of endemic species as would warrant the conclusion that it is itself an independent province. To assist in deciding such questions as these, we must compare closely the species found in the district with those of the other contiguous regions, and endeavour to ascertain whether they are identical, or only slightly modified, or whether they are highly peculiar.

"Von Martius when he visited this part of Brazil forty years ago, coming from the south, was much struck with the dissimilarity of the animal and vegetable productions to those of other parts of Brazil. In fact the Fauna of Para, and the lower part of the Amazons has no close relationship with that of Brazil proper; but it has a very great affinity with that of the coast region of Guiana, from Cayenne to Demerara. If we may judge from the results afforded by the study of certain families of insects, no peculiar Brazilian forms are found in the Para district; whilst more than one-half of the total number are essentially Guiana species, being found nowhere else but in Guiana and Amazonia. Many of them, however, are modified from the Guiana type, and about one-seventh seem to be restricted to Para. These endemic species are not highly peculiar, and they may yet be found over a great part of Northern Brazil when the country is better explored. They do not warrant us in concluding that the district forms an independent province, although they show that its Fauna is not wholly derivative, and that the land is probably not entirely a new formation. From all these facts, I think we must conclude that the Para district belongs to the Guiana province and that, if it is newer land than Guiana, it must have received the great bulk of its animal population from that region. I am informed by Dr. Sclater that similar results are derivable from the comparison of the birds of these countries."

One of the most interesting excursions made by Mr. Bates from Para was the ascent of the river Tocantins--the mouth of which lies about 4-5 miles from the city of Para. This was twice attempted. On the second occasion--our author being in company with Mr. Wallace--the travellers penetrated as far as the rapids of Arroyos, about 130 miles from its mouth. This district is one of the chief collecting-grounds of the well-known Brazil-nut (Bertholletia excelsa), which is here very plentiful, grove after grove of these splendid trees being visible, towering above their fellows, with the "woody fruits, large and round as cannon-balls, dotted over the branches." The Hyacinthine Macaw (Ara hyacinthina) is another natural wonder, first met with here. This splendid bird, which is occasionally brought alive to the Zoological Gardens of Europe, "only occurs in the interior of Brazil, from 16' S.L. to the southern border of the Amazon valley." Its enormous beak--which must strike even the most unobservant with wonder--appears to be adapted to enable it to feed on the nuts of the Mucuja Palm (Acrocomia lasiospatha). "These nuts, which are so hard as to be difficult to break with a heavy hammer, are crushed to a pulp by the powerful beak of this Macaw."

Mr. Bates' later part is mainly devoted to his residence at Santarem, at the junction of the Rio Tapajos with the main stream, and to his account of Upper Amazon, or Solimoens--the Fauna of which is, as we shall presently see, in many respects very different from that of the lower part of the river. At Santarem--"the most important and most civilised settlement on the Amazon, between the Atlantic and Para "--Mr. Bates made his headquarters for three years and a half, during which time several excursions up the little-known Tapajos were effected. Some 70 miles up the stream, on its affluent, the Cupari, a new Fauna, for the most part very distinct from that of the lower part of the same stream, was entered upon. "At the same time a considerable proportion of the Cupari species were identical with those of Ega, on the Upper Amazon, a district eight times further removed than the village just mentioned." Mr. Bates was more successful here than on his excursion up the Tocantins, and obtained twenty new species of fishes, and many new and conspicuous insects, apparently peculiar to this part of the Amazonian valley.

In a later chapter Mr. Bates commences his account of the Solimoens, or Upper Amazons, on the banks of which he passed four years and a half. The country is a "magnificent wilderness, where civilised man has, as yet, scarcely obtained a footing-the cultivated ground, from the Rio Negro to the Andes, amounting only to a few score acres." During the whole of this time Mr. Bates' headquarters were at Ega, on the Teffe, a confluent of the great river from the south, whence excursions were made sometimes for 300 or 400 miles into the interior. In the intervals Mr. Bates followed his pursuit as a collecting naturalist in the same "peaceful, regular way," as he might have done in a European village. Our author draws a most striking picture of the quiet, secluded life he led in this far-distant spot. The difficulty of getting news and the want of intellectual society were the great drawbacks--"the latter increasing until it became almost insupportable." "I was obliged at last," Mr. Bates naively remarks, "to come to the conclusion that the contemplation of Nature, alone is not sufficient to fill the human heart and mind." Mr. Bates must indeed have been driven to great straits as regards his mental food, when, as he tell us, he took to reading the Athenaeum three times over, "the first time devouring the more interesting articles--the second, the whole of the remainder--and the third, reading all the advertisements from beginning to end."

Ega was, indeed, as Mr. Bates remarks, a fine field for a Natural History collector, the only previous scientific visitants to that region having been the German Naturalists, Spix and Martius, and the Count de Castelnau when he descended the Amazons from the Pacific. Mr. Bates' account of the monkeys of the genera Brachyuyus, Nyctipithecus and Midas met with in this region, and the whole of the very pregnant remarks which follow on the American forms of the Quadrumana, will be read with interest by every one, particularly by those who pay attention to the important subject of geographical distribution. We need hardly say that Mr. Bates, after the attention he has bestowed upon this question, is a zealous advocate of the hypothesis of the origin of species by derivation from a common stock. After giving an outline of the general distribution of Monkeys, he clearly argues that unless the "common origin at least of the species of a family be admitted, the problem of their distribution must remain an inexplicable mystery." Mr. Bates evidently thoroughly understands the nature of this interesting problem, and in another passage, in which the very singular distribution of the Butterflies of the genus Heliconius is enlarged upon, concludes with the following significant remarks upon this importantsubject:

"In the controversy which is being waged amongst Naturalists since the publication of the Darwinian theory of the origin of species, it has been rightly said that no proof at present existed of the production of a physiological species, that is, a form which will not interbreed with the one from which it was derived, although given ample opportunities of doing so, and does not exhibit signs of reverting to its parent form when placed under the same conditions with it. Morphological species, that is, forms which differ to an amount that would justify their being considered good species, have been produced in plenty through selection by man out of variations arising under domestication or cultivation. The facts just given are therefore of some scientific importance, for they tend to show that a physiological species can be and is produced in nature out of the varieties of a pre-existing closely allied one. This is not an isolated case, for I observed in the course of my travels a number of similar instances. But in very few has it happened that the species which clearly appears to be the parent, co-exists with one that has been evidently derived from it. Generally the supposed parent also seems to have been modified, and then the demonstration is not so clear, for some of the links in the chain of variation are wanting. The process of origination of a species in nature as it takes place successively, must be ever, perhaps, beyond man's power to trace, on account of the great lapse of time it requires. But we can obtain a fair view of it by tracing a variable and far-spreading species over the wide area of its present distribution; and a long observation of such will lead to the conclusion that new species must in all cases have arisen out of variable and widely-disseminated forms. It sometimes happens, as in the present instance, that we find in one locality a species under a certain form which is constant to all the individuals concerned; in another exhibiting numerous varieties; and in a third presenting itself as a constant form quite distinct from the one we set out with. If we meet with any two of these modifications living side by side, and maintaining their distinctive characters under such circumstances, the proof of the natural origination of a species is complete; it could not be much more so were we able to watch the process step by step. It might be objected that the difference between our two species is but slight, and that by classing them as varieties nothing further would be proved by them. But the differences between them are such as obtain between allied species generally. Large genera are composed in great part of such species, and it is interesting to show the great and beautiful diversity within a large genus as brought about by the working of laws within our comprehension."

But to return to the Zoological wonders of the Upper Amazon, birds, insects, and butterflies are all spoken of by Mr. Bates in his chapter on the natural features of the district, and it is evident that none of these classes of beings escaped the observation of his watchful intelligence. The account of the foraging ants of the genus Eciton is certainly marvellous, and would, even of itself, be sufficient to stamp the recorder of their habits as a man of no ordinary mark.

The last chapter of Mr. Bates' work contains the account of his excursions beyond Ega. Fonteboa, Tunantins--a small semi-Indian settlement, 240 miles up the stream--and San Paulo de Olivenca, some miles higher up, were the principal places visited, and new acquisitions were gathered at each of these localities. In the fourth month of Mr. Bates' residence at the last-named place, a severe attack of ague led to the abandonment of the plans he had formed of proceeding to the Peruvian towns of Pebas and Moyobamba, and "so completing the examination of the Natural History of the Amazonian plains up to the foot of the Andes." This attack, which seemed to be the culmination of a gradual deterioration of health, caused by eleven years' hard work under the tropics, induced him to return to Ega, and finally to Para, where he embarked, on the 2nd June 1859, for England. Naturally enough, Mr. Bates tells us he was at first a little dismayed at leaving the equator, "where the well-balanced forces of Nature maintain a land-surface and a climate typical of mind, and order and beauty," to sail towards the "crepuscular skies" of the cold north. But he consoles us by adding the remark that "three years' renewed experience of England" have convinced him "how incomparably superior is civilised life to the spiritual sterility of half-savage existence, even if it were passed in the Garden of Eden."

The following is the list of H. W. Bates' published works:

Contributions to an insect Fauna of the Amazon Valley, Paper read before the Linnean Society, June 21, 1861; The Naturalist on the Amazons, a Record of Adventure, Habits of Animals, Sketches of Brazilian and Indian Life . . . during Eleven Years of Travel, 1863; 3rd Edition, 1873, with a Memoir of the author by E. Clodd to reprint of unabridged edition, 1892.

Bates was for many years the editor of the Transactions of the Royal Geographical Society; the following works were edited and revised, or supplemented by him:--Mrs. Somerville's Physical Geography, 1870; A. Humbert, Japan and the Japanese, 1874; C. Koldewey, the German Arctic Expedition, 1874; P. E. Warburton, Journey across the Western Interior of Australia, 1875; Cassell's Illustrated Travels, 6 vols., 1869-1875; E. Whymper, Travels among the Great Andes of the Equator (Introduction to Appendix volume), 1892, etc.; Central America, the West Indies and South America; Stanford's Compendium of Geography and Travel, 2nd revised Ed., 1882; he also added a list of Coleoptera collected by J. S. Jameson on the Aruwini to the latter's Story of the Rear Column of the Emin Pasha Relief Expedition, etc., 1890; and an appendix to a catalogue of Phytophaga by H. Clark, 1866, etc.; and contributed a biographical notice of Keith Johnson to J. Thomson's Central African Lakes and Back, 1881.

He contributed largely to the Zoologist, Entomological Society's journal, Annals and Magazine of Natural History, and Entomologist.

LIFE--Memoir by E. Clodd, 1892; short notice in Clodd's Pioneers of Evolution, 1897.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO THE EDITION OF 1864

HAVING been urged to prepare a new edition of this work for a wider circle than that contemplated in the former one, I have thought it advisable to condense those portions which, treating of abstruse scientific questions, presuppose a larger amount of Natural History knowledge than an author has a right to expect of the general reader. The personal narrative has been left entire, together with those descriptive details likely to interest all classes, young and old, relating to the great river itself, and the wonderful country through which it flows,--the luxuriant primaeval forests that clothe almost every part of it, the climate, productions, and inhabitants.

Signs are not wanting that this fertile, but scantily peopled region will soon become, through recent efforts of the Peruvian and Brazilian governments to make it accessible and colonise it, of far higher importance to the nations of Northern Europe than it has been hitherto. The full significance of the title, the "largest river in the world," which we are all taught in our schoolboy days to apply to the Amazons, without having a distinct idea of its magnitude, will then become apparent to the English public. It will be new to most people, that this noble stream has recently been navigated by steamers to a distance of 2200 geographical miles from its mouth at Para, or double the distance which vessels are able to reach on the Yang-tze-Kiang, the largest river of the old world; the depth of water in the dry season being about seven fathoms up to this terminus of navigation. It is not, however, the length of the trunk stream, that has earned for the Amazons the appellation of the "Mediterranean of South America," given it by the Brazilians of Para; but the network of by-channels and lakes, which everywhere accompanies its course at a distance from the banks, and which adds many thousands of miles of easy inland navigation to the total presented by the main river and its tributaries. The Peruvians, especially, if I may judge from letters received within the past few weeks, seem to be stirring themselves to grasp the advantages which the possession of the upper course of the river places within their reach. Vessels of heavy tonnage have arrived in Para, from England, with materials for the formation of shipbuilding establishments, at a point situated two thousand miles from the mouth of the river. Peruvian steamers have navigated from the Andes to the Atlantic, and a quantity of cotton (now exported for the first time), the product of the rich and healthy country bordering the Upper Amazons, has been conveyed by this means, and shipped from Para to Europe. The probability of general curiosity in England being excited before long with regard to this hitherto neglected country, will be considered, of itself, a sufficient reason for placing an account of its natural features and present condition within reach of all readers.

LONDON, January, 1864.

CHAPTER I

PARA

Arrival--Aspect of the Country--The Para River--First Walk in the Suburbs of Para--Birds, Lizards, and Insects of the Suburbs--Leaf-carrying Ant--Sketch of the Climate, History, and present Condition of Para.

I embarked at Liverpool, with Mr. Wallace, in a small trading vessel, on the 26th of April, 1848; and, after a swift passage from the Irish Channel to the equator, arrived, on the 26th of May, off Salinas. This is the pilot-station for vessels bound to Para, the only port of entry to the vast region watered by the Amazons. It is a small village, formerly a missionary settlement of the Jesuits, situated a few miles to the eastward of the Para River. Here the ship anchored in the open sea at a distance of six miles from the shore, the shallowness of the water far out around the mouth of the great river not permitting, in safety, a nearer approach; and, the signal was hoisted for a pilot.

It was with deep interest that my companion and myself, both now about to see and examine the beauties of a tropical country for the first time, gazed on the land where I, at least, eventually spent eleven of the best years of my life. To the eastward the country was not remarkable in appearance, being slightly undulating, with bare sandhills and scattered trees; but to the westward, stretching towards the mouth of the river, we could see through the captain's glass a long line of forest, rising apparently out of the water; a densely-packed mass of tall trees, broken into groups, and finally into single trees, as it dwindled away in the distance. This was the frontier, in this direction, of the great primaeval forest characteristic of this region, which contains so many wonders in its recesses, and clothes the whole surface of the country for two thousand miles from this point to the foot of the Andes.

On the following day and night we sailed, with a light wind, partly aided by the tide, up the Para river. Towards evening we passed Vigia and Colares, two fishing villages, and saw many native canoes, which seemed like toys beneath the lofty walls of dark forest. The air was excessively close, the sky overcast, and sheet lightning played almost incessantly around the horizon-- an appropriate greeting on the threshold of a country lying close under the equator! The evening was calm, this being the season when the winds are not strong, so we glided along in a noiseless manner, which contrasted pleasantly with the unceasing turmoil to which we had been lately accustomed on the Atlantic. The immensity of the river struck us greatly, for although sailing sometimes at a distance of eight or nine miles from the eastern bank, the opposite shore was at no time visible. Indeed, the Para river is thirty-six miles in breadth at its mouth; and at the city of Para, nearly seventy miles from the sea, it is twenty miles wide; but at that point, a series of islands commences which contracts the riverview in front of the port.

On the morning of the 28th of May, we arrived at our destination. The appearance of the city at sunrise was pleasing in the highest degree. It is built on a low tract of land, having only one small rocky elevation at its southern extremity; it, therefore, affords no amphitheatral view from the river; but the white buildings roofed with red tiles, the numerous towers and cupolas of churches and convents, the crowns of palm trees reared above the buildings, all sharply defined against the clear blue sky, give an appearance of lightness and cheerfulness which is most exhilarating. The perpetual forest hems the city in on all sides landwards; and towards the suburbs, picturesque country houses are seen scattered about, half buried in luxuriant foliage. The port was full of native canoes and other vessels, large and small; and the ringing of bells and firing of rockets, announcing the dawn of some Roman Catholic festival day, showed that the population was astir at that early hour.

We went ashore in due time, and were kindly received by Mr. Miller, the consignee of the vessel, who invited us to make his house our home until we could obtain a suitable residence. On landing, the hot moist mouldy air, which seemed to strike from the ground and walls, reminded me of the atmosphere of tropical stoves at Kew. In the course of the afternoon a heavy shower fell, and in the evening, the atmosphere having been cooled by the rain, we walked about a mile out of town to the residence of an American gentleman to whom our host wished to introduce us.

The impressions received during this first walk can never wholly fade from my mind. After traversing the few streets of tall, gloomy, convent-looking buildings near the port, inhabited chiefly by merchants and shopkeepers, along which idle soldiers, dressed in shabby uniforms carrying their muskets carelessly over their arms, priests, negresses with red water-jars on their heads, sad-looking Indian women carrying their naked children astride on their hips, and other samples of the motley life of the place, we passed down a long narrow street leading to the suburbs. Beyond this, our road lay across a grassy common into a picturesque lane leading to the virgin forest. The long street was inhabited by the poorer class of the population. The houses were of one story only, and had an irregular and mean appearance. The windows were without glass, having, instead, projecting lattice casements. The street was unpaved, and inches deep in loose sand. Groups of people were cooling themselves outside their doors-- people of all shades in colour of skin, European, Negro and Indian, but chiefly an uncertain mixture of the three. Amongst them were several handsome women dressed in a slovenly manner, barefoot or shod in loose slippers, but wearing richly- decorated earrings, and around their necks strings of very large gold beads. They had dark expressive eyes, and remarkably rich heads of hair. It was a mere fancy, but I thought the mingled squalor, luxuriance and beauty of these women were pointedly in harmony with the rest of the scene-- so striking, in the view, was the mixture of natural riches and human poverty. The houses were mostly in a dilapidated condition, and signs of indolence and neglect were visible everywhere. The wooden palings which surrounded the weed-grown gardens were strewn about and broken; hogs, goats, and ill-fed poultry wandered in and out through the gaps.

But amidst all, and compensating every defect, rose the overpowering beauty of the vegetation. The massive dark crowns of shady mangos were seen everywhere amongst the dwellings, amidst fragrant blossoming orange, lemon, and many other tropical fruit trees, some in flower, others in fruit, at varying stages of ripeness. Here and there, shooting above the more dome-like and sombre trees, were the smooth columnar stems of palms, bearing aloft their magnificent crowns of finely-cut fronds. Amongst the latter the slim assai-palm was especially noticeable, growing in groups of four or five; its smooth, gently-curving stem, twenty to thirty feet high, terminating in a head of feathery foliage, inexpressibly light and elegant in outline. On the boughs of the taller and more ordinary-looking trees sat tufts of curiously- leaved parasites. Slender, woody lianas hung in festoons from the branches, or were suspended in the form of cords and ribbons; whilst luxuriant creeping plants overran alike tree-trunks, roofs and walls, or toppled over palings in a copious profusion of foliage. The superb banana (Musa paradisiaca), of which I had always read as forming one of the charms of tropical vegetation, grew here with great luxuriance-- its glossy velvety-green leaves, twelve feet in length, curving over the roofs of verandahs in the rear of every house. The shape of the leaves, the varying shades of green which they present when lightly moved by the wind, and especially the contrast they afford in colour and form to the more sombre hues and more rounded outline of the other trees, are quite sufficient to account for the charm of this glorious tree.

Strange forms of vegetation drew our attention at almost every step. Amongst them were the different kinds of Bromelia, or pineapple plants, with their long, rigid, sword-shaped leaves, in some species jagged or toothed along their edges. Then there was the bread-fruit tree--an importation, it is true; but remarkable from its large, glossy, dark green, strongly digitated foliage, and its interesting history. Many other trees and plants, curious in leaf, stem, or manner of growth, grew on the borders of the thickets along which lay our road; they were all attractive to newcomers, whose last country ramble of quite recent date was

over the bleak moors of Derbyshire on a sleety morning in April.

As we continued our walk the brief twilight commenced, and the sounds of multifarious life came from the vegetation around. The whirring of cicadas; the shrill stridulation of a vast number and variety of field crickets and grasshoppers, each species sounding its peculiar note; the plaintive hooting of tree frogs--all blended together in one continuous ringing sound--the audible expression of the teeming profusion of Nature. As night came on, many species of frogs and toads in the marshy places joined in the chorus-- their croaking and drumming, far louder than anything I had before heard in the same line, being added to the other noises, created an almost deafening din. This uproar of life, I afterwards found, never wholly ceased, night or day. In the course of time I became, like other residents, accustomed to it. It is, however, one of the peculiarities of a tropical--at least, a Brazilian--climate which is most likely to surprise a stranger. After my return to England, the deathlike stillness of summer days in the country appeared to me as strange as the ringing uproar did on my first arrival at Para. The object of our visit being accomplished, we returned to the city. The fire-flies were then out in great numbers, flitting about the sombre woods, and even the frequented streets. We turned into our hammocks, well pleased with what we had seen, and full of anticipation with regard to the wealth of natural objects we had come to explore.

During the first few days, we were employed in landing our baggage and arranging our extensive apparatus. We then accepted the invitation of Mr. Miller to make use of his rocinha, or country-house in the suburbs, until we finally decided on a residence. Upon this, we made our first essay in housekeeping. We bought cotton hammocks, the universal substitute for beds in this country, cooking utensils and crockery, and engaged a free negro, named Isidoro, as cook and servant-of-all-work.

Our first walks were in the immediate suburbs of Para. The city lies on a corner of land formed by the junction of the river Guama with the Para. As I have said before, the forest, which covers the whole country, extends close up to the city streets; indeed, the town is built on a tract of cleared land, and is kept free from the jungle only by the constant care of the Government. The surface, though everywhere low, is slightly undulating, so that areas of dry land alternate throughout with areas of swampy ground, the vegetation and animal tenants of the two being widely different. Our residence lay on the side of the city nearest the Guama, on the borders of one of the low and swampy areas which here extends over a portion of the suburbs. The tract of land is intersected by well-macadamised suburban roads, the chief of which, the Estrada das Mongubeiras (the Monguba road), about a mile long, is a magnificent avenue of silk-cotton trees (Bombax monguba and B. ceiba), huge trees whose trunks taper rapidly from the ground upwards, and whose flowers before opening look like red balls studding the branches. This fine road was constructed under the governorship of the Count dos Arcos, about the year 1812. At right angles to it run a number of narrow green lanes, and the whole district is drained by a system of small canals or trenches through which the tide ebbs and flows, showing the lowness of the site.

Before I left the country, other enterprising presidents had formed a number of avenues lined with cocoanut palms, almond and other trees, in continuation of the Monguba road, over the more elevated and drier ground to the north-east of the city. On the high ground the vegetation has an aspect quite different from that which it presents in the swampy parts. Indeed, with the exception of the palm trees, the suburbs here have an aspect like that of a village green at home. The soil is sandy, and the open commons are covered with a short grassy and shrubby vegetation. Beyond this, the land again descends to a marshy tract, where, at the bottom of the moist hollows, the public wells are situated. Here all the linen of the city is washed by hosts of noisy negresses, and here also the water-carts are filled--painted hogsheads on wheels, drawn by bullocks. In early morning, when the sun sometimes shines through a light mist, and everything is dripping with moisture, this part of the city is full of life; vociferous negroes and wrangling Gallegos, [Natives of Galicia, in Spain, who follow this occupation in Lisbon and Oporto, as well as at Para] the proprietors of the water-carts, are gathered about, jabbering continually, and taking their morning drams in dirty wineshops at the street corners.

Along these beautiful roads we found much to interest us during the first few days. Suburbs of towns, and open, sunny cultivated places in Brazil, are tenanted by species of animals and plants which are mostly different from those of the dense primaeval forests. I will, therefore, give an account of what we observed of the animal world during our explorations in the immediate neighbourhood of Para.

The number and beauty of the birds and insects did not at first equal our expectations. The majority of the birds we saw were small and obscurely coloured; they were indeed similar, in general appearance, to such as are met with in country places in England. Occasionally a flock of small parroquets, green, with a patch of yellow on the forehead, would come at early morning to the trees near the Estrada. They would feed quietly, sometimes chattering in subdued tones, but setting up a harsh scream, and flying off, on being disturbed. Hummingbirds we did not see at this time, although I afterwards found them by hundreds when certain trees were in flower. Vultures we only saw at a distance, sweeping round at a great height, over the public slaughter- houses. Several flycatchers, finches, ant-thrushes, a tribe of plainly-coloured birds, intermediate in structure between flycatchers and thrushes, some of which startle the new-comer by their extraordinary notes emitted from their places of concealment in the dense thickets; and also tanagers, and other small birds, inhabited the neighbourhood. None of these had a pleasing song, except a little brown wren (Troglodytes furvus), whose voice and melody resemble those of our English robin. It is often seen hopping and climbing about the walls and roofs of houses and on trees in their vicinity. Its song is more frequently heard in the rainy season, when the Monguba trees shed their leaves. At those times the Estrada das Mongubeiras has an appearance quite unusual in a tropical country. The tree is one of the few in the Amazon region which sheds all its foliage before any of the new leaf-buds expand. The naked branches, the sodden ground matted with dead leaves, the grey mist veiling the surrounding vegetation, and the cool atmosphere soon after sunrise, all combine to remind one of autumnal mornings in England. Whilst loitering about at such times in a half-oblivious mood, thinking of home, the song of this bird would create for the moment a perfect illusion. Numbers of tanagers frequented the fruit and other trees in our garden. The two principal kinds which attracted our attention were the Rhamphoccelus Jacapa and the Tanagra Episcopus. The females of both are dull in colour, but the male of Jacapa has a beautiful velvety purple and black plumage, the beak being partly white, whilst the same sex in Episcopus is of a pale blue colour, with white spots on the wings. In their habits they both resemble the common house- sparrow of Europe, which does not exist in South America, its place being in some measure filled by these familiar tanagers. They are just as lively, restless, bold, and wary; their notes are very similar, chirping and inharmonious, and they seem to be almost as fond of the neighbourhood of man. They do not, however, build their nests on houses.

Another interesting and common bird was the Japim, a species of Cassicus ( C. icteronotus). It belongs to the same family of birds as our starling, magpie, and rook--it has a rich yellow and black plumage, remarkably compact and velvety in texture. The shape of its head and its physiognomy are very similar to those of the magpie; it has light grey eyes, which give it the same knowing expression. It is social in its habits, and builds its nest, like the English rook, on trees in the neighbourhood of habitations. But the nests are quite differently constructed, being shaped like purses, two feet in length, and suspended from the slender branches all around the tree, some of them very near the ground. The entrance is on the side near the bottom of the nest. The bird is a great favourite with the Brazilians of Para-- it is a noisy, stirring, babbling creature, passing constantly to and fro, chattering to its comrades, and is very ready at imitating other birds, especially the domestic poultry of the vicinity. There was at one time a weekly newspaper published at Para, called "The Japim"; the name being chosen, I suppose, on account of the babbling propensities of the bird. Its eggs are nearly round, and of a bluish-white colour, speckled with brown.

Of other vertebrate animals we saw very little, except of the lizards. These are sure to attract the attention of the newcomer from Northern Europe, by reason of their strange appearance, great numbers, and variety. The species which are seen crawling over the walls of buildings in the city are different from those found in the forest or in the interior of houses. They are unpleasant-looking animals, with colours assimilated to those of the dilapidated stone and mud walls on which they are seen. The house lizards belong to a peculiar family, the Geckos, and are found even in the best-kept chambers, most frequently on the walls and ceilings, to which they cling motionless by day, being active only at night. They are of speckled grey or ashy colours. The structure of their feet is beautifully adapted for clinging to and running over smooth surfaces; the underside of their toes being expanded into cushions, beneath which folds of skin form a series of flexible plates. By means of this apparatus they can walk or run across a smooth ceiling with their backs downwards; the plated soles, by quick muscular action, exhausting and admitting air alternately. The Geckos are very repulsive in appearance. The Brazilians give them the name of Osgas, and firmly believe them to be poisonous; they are, however, harmless creatures. Those found in houses are small; but I have seen others of great size, in crevices of tree trunks in the forest. Sometimes Geckos are found with forked tails; this results from the budding of a rudimentary tail at the side, from an injury done to the member. A slight rap will cause their tails to snap off; the loss being afterwards partially repaired by a new growth. The tails of lizards seem to be almost useless appendages to these animals. I used often to amuse myself in the suburbs, whilst resting in the verandah of our house during the heat of mid-day, by watching the variegated green, brown, and yellow ground-lizards. They would come nimbly forward, and commence grubbing with their forefeet and snouts around the roots of herbage, searching for insect larvae. On the slightest alarm, they would scamper off, their tails cocked up in the air as they waddled awkwardly away, evidently an incumbrance to them in their flight.

Next to the birds and lizards, the insects of the suburbs of Para deserve a few remarks. The species observed in the weedy and open places, as already remarked, were generally different from those which dwell in the shades of the forest. In the gardens, numbers of fine showy butterflies were seen. There were two swallow- tailed species, similar in colours to the English Papilio Machaon; a white Pieris (P. Monuste), and two or three species of brimstone and orange coloured butterflies, which do not belong, however, to the same genus as our English species. In weedy places a beautiful butterfly, with eye-like spots on its wings was common, the Junonia Lavinia, the only Amazonian species which is at all nearly related to our Vanessas, the Admiral and Peacock Butterflies. One day, we made our first acquaintance with two of the most beautiful productions of nature in this department-- namely, the Helicopis Cupido and Endymion. A little beyond our house, one of the narrow green lanes which I have already mentioned diverged from the Monguba avenue, and led, between enclosures overrun with a profusion of creeping plants and glorious flowers, down to a moist hollow, where there was a public well in a picturesque nook, buried in a grove of Mucaja palm trees. On the tree trunks, walls, and palings, grew a great quantity of climbing Pothos plants, with large glossy heart- shaped leaves. These plants were the resort of these two exquisite species, and we captured a great number of specimens. They are of extremely delicate texture. The wings are cream- coloured, the hind pair have several tail-like appendages, and are spangled beneath as if with silver. Their flight is very slow and feeble; they seek the protected under-surface of the leaves, and in repose close their wings over the back, so as to expose the brilliantly spotted under-surface.

I will pass over the many other orders and families of insects, and proceed at once to the ants. These were in great numbers everywhere, but I will mention here only two kinds. We were amazed at seeing ants an inch and a quarter in length, and stout in proportion, marching in single file through the thickets. These belonged to the species called Dinoponera grandis. Its colonies consist of a small number of individuals, and are established about the roots of slender trees. It is a stinging species, but the sting is not so severe as in many of the smaller kinds. There was nothing peculiar or attractive in the habits of this giant among the ants. Another far more interesting species was the Sauba (Oecodoma cephalotes). This ant is seen everywhere about the suburbs, marching to and fro in broad columns. From its habit of despoiling the most valuable cultivated trees of their foliage, it is a great scourge to the Brazilians. In some districts it is so abundant that agriculture is almost impossible, and everywhere complaints are heard of the terrible pest.

The workers of this species are of three orders, and vary in size from two to seven lines; some idea of them may be obtained from the accompanying woodcut. The true working-class of a colony is formed by the small-sized order of workers, the worker-minors as they are called (Fig. I). The two other kinds, whose functions, as we shall see, are not yet properly understood, have enormously swollen and massive heads; in one (Fig. 2), the head is highly polished; in the other (Fig. 3), it is opaque and hairy. The worker-minors vary greatly in size, some being double the bulk of others. The entire body is of very solid consistency, and of a pale reddish-brown colour. The thorax or middle segment is armed with three pairs of sharp spines; the head, also, has a pair of similar spines proceeding from the cheeks behind.

In our first walks we were puzzled to account for large mounds of earth, of a different colour from the surrounding soil, which were thrown up in the plantations and woods. Some of them were very extensive, being forty yards in circumference, but not more than two feet in height. We soon ascertained that these were the work of the Saubas, being the outworks, or domes, which overlie and protect the entrances to their vast subterranean galleries. On close examination, I found the earth of which they are composed to consist of very minute granules, agglomerated without cement, and forming many rows of little ridges and turrets. The difference in colour from the superficial soil of the vicinity is owing to their being formed of the undersoil, brought up from a considerable depth. It is very rarely that the ants are seen at work on these mounds; the entrances seem to be generally closed; only now and then, when some particular work is going on, are the galleries opened. The entrances are small and numerous; in the larger hillocks it would require a great amount of excavation to get at the main galleries; but, I succeeded in removing portions of the dome in smaller hillocks, and then I found that the minor entrances converged, at the depth of about two feet, into one broad, elaborately-worked gallery or mine, which was four or five inches in diameter.

This habit of the Sauba ant, of clipping and carrying away immense quantities of leaves, has long been recorded in books on natural history. When employed on this work, their processions look like a multitude of animated leaves on the march. In some places I found an accumulation of such leaves, all circular pieces, about the size of a sixpence, lying on the pathway, unattended by ants, and at some distance from any colony. Such heaps are always found to be removed when the place is revisited the next day. In course of time I had plenty of opportunities of seeing them at work. They mount the tree in multitudes, the individuals being all worker-minors. Each one places itself on the surface of a leaf, and cuts, with its sharp scissor-like jaws, a nearly semicircular incision on the upper side; it then takes the edge between its jaws, and by a sharp jerk detaches the piece. Sometimes they let the leaf drop to the ground, where a little heap accumulates, until carried off by another relay of workers; but, generally, each marches off with the piece it has operated upon, and as all take the same road to their colony, the path they follow becomes in a short time smooth and bare, looking like the impression of a cartwheel through the herbage.

It is a most interesting sight to see the vast host of busy diminutive labourers occupied on this work. Unfortunately, they choose cultivated trees for their purpose. This ant is quite peculiar to Tropical America, as is the entire genus to which it belongs; it sometimes despoils the young trees of species growing wild in its native forests, but seems to prefer, when within reach, plants imported from other countries, such as the coffee and orange trees. It has not hitherto been shown satisfactorily to what use it applies the leaves. I discovered this only after much time spent in investigation. The leaves are used to thatch the domes which cover the entrances to their subterranean dwellings, thereby protecting from the deluging rains the young broods in the nests beneath. The larger mounds, already described, are so extensive that few persons would attempt to remove them for the purpose of examining their interior; but smaller hillocks, covering other entrances to the same system of tunnels and chambers, may be found in sheltered places, and these are always thatched with leaves, mingled with granules of earth. The heavily-laden workers, each carrying its segment of leaf vertically, the lower edge secured in its mandibles, troop up and cast their burdens on the hillock; another relay of labourers place the leaves in position, covering them with a layer of earthy granules, which are brought one by one from the soil beneath.

The underground abodes of this wonderful ant are known to be very extensive. The Rev. Hamlet Clark has related that the Sauba of Rio de Janeiro, a species closely allied to ours, has excavated a tunnel under the bed of the river Parahyba, at a place where it is broad as the Thames at London Bridge. At the Magoary Rice Mills, near Para, these ants once pierced the embankment of a large reservoir; the great body of water which it contained escaped before the damage could be repaired. In the Botanic Gardens, at Para, an enterprising French gardener tried all he could think of to extirpate the Sauba. With this object, he made fires over some of the main entrances to their colonies, and blew the fumes of sulphur down the galleries by means of bellows. I saw the smoke issue from a great number of outlets, one of which was seventy yards distant from the place where the bellows were used. This shows how extensively the underground galleries are ramified.

Besides injuring and destroying young trees by despoiling them of their foliage, the Sauba ant is troublesome to the inhabitants from its habit of plundering the stores of provisions in houses at night, for it is even more active by night than in the day- time. At first I was inclined to discredit the stories of their entering habitations and carrying off grain by grain the farinha or mandioca meal, the bread of the poorer classes of Brazil. At length, whilst residing at an Indian village on the Tapajos, I had ample proof of the fact. One night my servant woke me three or four hours before sunrise, by calling out that the rats were robbing the farinha baskets--the article at that time being scarce and dear. I got up, listened, and found the noise was very unlike that made by rats. So, I took the light and went into the storeroom, which was close to my sleeping-place. I there found a broad column of Sauba ants, consisting of thousands of individuals, as busy as possible, passing to and fro between the door and my precious baskets. Most of those passing outwards were laden each with a grain of farinha, which was, in some cases, larger and many times heavier than the bodies of the carriers. Farinha consists of grains of similar size and appearance to the tapioca of our shops; both are products of the same root, tapioca being the pure starch, and farinha the starch mixed with woody fibre, the latter ingredient giving it a yellowish colour. It was amusing to see some of the dwarfs, the smallest members of their family, staggering along, completely hidden under their load. The baskets, which were on a high table, were entirely covered with ants, many hundreds of whom were employed in snipping the dry leaves which served as lining. This produced the rustling sound which had at first disturbed us. My servant told me that they would carry off the whole contents of the two baskets (about two bushels) in the course of the night, if they were not driven off; so we tried to exterminate them by killing them with our wooden clogs. It was impossible, however, to prevent fresh hosts coming in as fast as we killed their companions. They returned the next night; and I was then obliged to lay trains of gunpowder along their line, and blow them up. This, repeated many times, at last seemed to intimidate them, for we were free from their visits during the remainder of my residence at the place. What they did with the hard dry grains of mandioca I was never able to ascertain, and cannot even conjecture. The meal contains no gluten, and therefore would be useless as cement. It contains only a smallrelative portion of starch, and, when mixed with water, it separates and falls away like so much earthy matter. It may serve as food for the subterranean workers. But the young or larvae of ants are usually fed by juices secreted by the worker nurses.

Ants, it is scarcely necessary to observe, consist, in each species, of three sets of individuals, Or, as some express it, of three sexes--namely, males, females, and workers; the last- mentioned being undeveloped females. The perfect sexes are winged on their first attaining the adult state; they alone propagate their kind, flying away, previous to the act of reproduction, from the nest in which they have been reared. This winged state of the perfect males and females, and the habit of flying abroad before pairing, are very important points in the economy of ants; for they are thus enabled to intercross with members of distant colonies which swarm at the same time, and thereby increase the vigour of the race, a proceeding essential to the prosperity of any species. In many ants, especially those of tropical climates, the workers, again, are of two classes, whose structure and functions are widely different. In some species they are wonderfully unlike each other, and constitute two well-defined forms of workers. In others, there is a gradation of individuals between the two extremes. The curious differences in structure and habits between these two classes form an interesting, but very difficult, study. It is one of the great peculiarities of the Sauba ant to possess three classes of workers. My investigations regarding them were far from complete; I will relate, however, what I have observed on the subject.

When engaged in leaf-cutting, plundering farinha, and other operations, two classes of workers are always seen (Figs. 1 and 2, page 10). They are not, it is true, very sharply defined in structure, for individuals of intermediate grades occur. All the work, however, is done by the individuals which have small heads (Fig. 1), while those which have enormously large heads, the worker-majors (Fig. 2), are observed to be simply walking about. I could never satisfy myself as to the function of these worker- majors. They are not the soldiers or defenders of the working portion of the community, like the armed class in the termites, or white ants, for they never fight. The species has no sting, and does not display active resistance when interfered with. I once imagined they exercised a sort of superintendence over the others; but this function is entirely unnecessary in a community where all work with a precision and regularity resembling the subordinate parts of a piece of machinery. I came to the conclusion, at last, that they have no very precisely defined function. They cannot, however, be entirely useless to the community, for the sustenance of an idle class of such bulky individuals would be too heavy a charge for the species to sustain. I think they serve, in some sort, as passive instruments of protection to the real workers. Their enormously large, hard, and indestructible heads may be of use in protecting them against the attacks of insectivorous animals. They would be, on this view, a kind of "pieces de resistance," serving as a foil against onslaughts made on the main body of workers.

The third order of workers is the most curious of all. If the top of a small, fresh hillock, one in which the thatching process is going on, is taken off, a broad cylindrical shaft is disclosed at a depth of about two feet from the surface. If this is probed with a stick, which may be done to the extent of three or four feet without touching bottom, a small number of colossal fellows (Fig. 3) will slowly begin to make their way up the smooth sides of the mine. Their heads are of the same size as those of the class Fig. 2, but the front is clothed with hairs, instead of being polished, and they have in the middle of the forehead a twin, ocellus, or simple eye, of quite different structure from the ordinary compound eyes, on the sides of the head. This frontal eye is totally wanting in the other workers, and is not known in any other kind of ant. The apparition of these strange creatures from the cavernous depths of the mine reminded me, when I first observed them, of the Cyclopes of Homeric fable. They were not very pugnacious, as I feared they would be, and I had no difficulty in securing a few with my fingers. I never saw them under any other circumstances than those here related, and what their special functions may be I cannot divine.

The whole arrangement of a Formicarium, or ant-colony, and all the varied activity of ant-life, are directed to one main purpose--the perpetuation and dissemination of the species. Most of the labour which we see performed by the workers has for its end the sustenance and welfare of the young brood, which are helpless grubs. The true females are incapable of attending to the wants of their offspring; and it is on the poor sterile workers, who are denied all the other pleasures of maternity, that the entire care devolves. The workers are also the chief agents in carrying out the different migrations of the colonies, which are of vast importance to the dispersal and consequent prosperity of the species. The successful debut of the winged males and females depends likewise on the workers. It is amusing to see the activity and excitement which reigns in an ant's nest when the exodus of the winged individuals is taking place. The workers clear the roads of exit, and show the most lively interest in their departure, although it is highly improbable that any of them will return to the same colony. The swarming or exodus of the winged males and females of the Sauba ant takes place in January and February, that is, at the commencement of the rainy season. They come out in the evening in vast numbers, causing quite a commotion in the streets and lanes. They are of very large size, the female measuring no less than two-and-a- quarter inches in expanse of wing; the male is not much more than half this size. They are so eagerly preyed upon by insectivorous animals that on the morning after their flight not an individual is to be seen, a few impregnated females alone escaping the slaughter to found new colonies.

At the time of our arrival, Para had not quite recovered from the effects of a series of revolutions, brought about by the hatred which existed between the native Brazilians and the Portuguese; the former, in the end, calling to their aid the Indian and mixed coloured population. The number of inhabitants of the city had decreased, in consequence of these disorders, from 24,500 in 1819, to 15,000 in 1848. Although the public peace had not been broken for twelve years before the date of our visit, confidence was not yet completely restored, and the Portuguese merchants and tradesmen would not trust themselves to live at their beautiful country houses or rocinhas, which lie embosomed in the luxuriant shady gardens around the city. No progress had been made in clearing the second-growth forest which had grown over the once cultivated grounds, and now reached the end of all the suburban streets. The place had the aspect of one which had seen better days; the public buildings, including the palaces of the President and Bishop, the cathedral, the principal churches and convents, all seemed constructed on a scale of grandeur far beyond the present requirements of the city. Streets full of extensive private residences, built in the Italian style of architecture, were in a neglected condition, weeds and flourishing young trees growing from large cracks in the masonry. The large public squares were overgrown with weeds and impassable, on account of the swampy places which occupied portions of their areas. Commerce, however, was now beginning to revive, and before I left the country I saw great improvements, as I shall have to relate towards the conclusion of this narrative.

The province of which Para is the capital, was at the time I allude to, the most extensive in the Brazilian empire, being about 1560 miles in length from east to west, and about 600 in breadth. Since that date--namely in 1853--it has been divided into two by the separation of the Upper Amazons as a distinct province. It formerly constituted a section, capitania, or governorship of the Portuguese colony. Originally it was well peopled by Indians, varying much in social condition according to their tribe, but all exhibiting the same general physical characters, which are those of the American red man, somewhat modified by long residence in an equatorial forest country.

Most of the tribes are now extinct or forgotten, at least those which originally peopled the banks of the main river, their descendants having amalgamated with the white and negro immigrants. [The mixed breeds which now form, probably, the greater part of the population, each have a distinguishing name. Mameluco denotes the offspring of White with Indian; Mulatto, that of White with Negro; Cafuzo, the mixture of the Indian and Negro; Curiboco, the cross between the Cafuzo and the Indian; Xibaro, that between the Cafuzo and Negro. These are seldom, however, well-demarcated, and all shades of colour exist; the names are generally applied only approximatively. The term Creole is confined to negroes born in the country. The civilised Indian is called Tapuyo or Caboclo.] Many still exist, however, in their original state on the Upper Amazons and most of the branch rivers. On this account, Indians in this province are far more numerous than elsewhere in Brazil, and the Indian element may be said to prevail in the mongrel population-- the negro proportion being much smaller than in South Brazil.

The city is built on the best available site for a port of entry to the Amazons region, and must in time become a vast emporium; the northern shore of the main river, where alone a rival capital could be founded, is much more difficult of access to vessels, and is besides extremely unhealthy. Although lying so near the equator (1 28' S. lat.) the climate is not excessively hot. The temperature during three years only once reached 95 degrees Fahrenheit. The greatest heat of the day, about 2 p.m., ranges generally between 89 and 94; but on the other hand, the air is never cooler than 73, so that a uniformly high temperature exists, and the mean of the year is 81. North American residents say that the heat is not so oppressive as it is in summer in New York and Philadelphia. The humidity is, of course, excessive, but the rains are not so heavy and continuous in the wet season as in many other tropical climates. The country had for a long time a reputation for extreme salubrity. Since the small-pox in 1819, which attacked chiefly the Indians, no serious epidemic had visited the province. We were agreeably surprised to find no danger from exposure to the night air or residence in the low swampy lands. A few English residents, who had been established here for twenty or thirty years, looked almost as fresh in colour as if they had never left their native country. The native women, too, seemed to preserve their good looks and plump condition until late in life. I nowhere observed that early decay of appearance in Brazilian ladies, which is said to be so general in the women of North America.

Up to 1848 the salubrity of Para was quite remarkable for a city lying in the delta of a great river, in the middle of the tropics and half surrounded by swamps. It did not much longer enjoy its immunity from epidemics. In 1850 the yellow fever visited the province for the first time, and carried off in a few weeks more than four percent of the population. One disease after another succeeded, until in 1855 cholera swept through the country and caused fearful havoc. Since then, the healthfulness of the climate has been gradually restored, and it is now fast recovering its former good reputation. Para is free from serious endemic disorders, and was once a resort of invalids from New York and Massachusetts. The equable temperature, the perpetual verdure, the coolness of the dry season when the sun's heat is tempered by the strong sea-breezes and the moderation of the periodical rains, make the climate one of the most enjoyable on the face of the earth.

The province is governed, like all others in the empire, by a President, as chief civil authority. At the time of our arrival he also held, exceptionally, the chief military command. This functionary, together with the head of the police administration and the judges, is nominated by the central Government at Rio Janeiro. The municipal and internal affairs are managed by a provincial assembly elected by the people. Every villa or borough throughout the province also possesses its municipal council, and in thinly-populated districts the inhabitants choose every four years a justice of the peace, who adjudicates in small disputes between neighbours. A system of popular education exists, and every village has its school of first letters, the master being paid by the government, the salary amounting to about £70, or the same sum as the priests receive. Besides common schools, a well- endowed classical seminary is maintained at Para, to which the sons of most of the planters and traders in the interior are sent to complete their education. The province returns its quota of members every four years to the lower and upper houses of the imperial parliament. Every householder has a vote. Trial by jury has been established, the jurymen being selected from householders, no matter what their race or colour; and I have seen the white merchant, the negro husbandman, the mameluco, the mulatto, and the Indian, all sitting side by side on the same bench. Altogether the constitution of government in Brazil seems to combine happily the principles of local self-government and centralisation, and only requires a proper degree of virtue and intelligence in the people to lead the nation to great prosperity.

The province of Para, or, as we may now say, the two provinces of Para and the Amazons, contain an area of 800,000 square miles, the population of which is only about 230,000, or in the ratio of one person to four square miles! The country is covered with forests, and the soil is fertile in the extreme, even for a tropical country. It is intersected throughout by broad and deep navigable rivers. It is the pride of the Paraenses to call the Amazons the Mediterranean of South America. The colossal stream perhaps deserves the name, for not only have the main river and its principal tributaries an immense expanse of water bathing the shores of extensive and varied regions, but there is also throughout a system of back channels, connected with the main rivers by narrow outlets and linking together a series of lakes, some of which are fifteen, twenty, and thirty miles in length. The whole Amazons valley is thus covered by a network of navigable waters, forming a vast inland freshwater sea with endless ramifications-- rather than a river.

The city of Para was founded in 1615, and was a place of considerable importance towards the latter half of the eighteenth century, under the government of the brother of Pombal, the famous Portuguese statesman. The province was the last in Brazil to declare its independence of the mother-country and acknowledge the authority of the first emperor, Don Pedro. This was owing to the great numbers and influence of the Portuguese, and the rage of the native party was so great in consequence, that immediately after independence was proclaimed in 1823, a counter revolution broke out, during which many hundred lives were lost and much hatred engendered. The antagonism continued for many years, partial insurrections taking place when the populace thought that the immigrants from Portugal were favoured by the governors sent from the capital of the empire. At length, in 1835, a serious revolt took place which in a short time involved the entire province. It began by the assassination of the President and the leading members of the government; the struggle was severe, and the native party in an evil hour called to their aid the ignorant and fanatic part of the mongrel and Indian population. The cry of death to the Portuguese was soon changed to death to the freemasons, then a powerfully organised society embracing the greater part of the male white inhabitants. The victorious native party endeavoured to establish a government of their own.

After this state of things had endured six months, they accepted a new President sent from Rio Janeiro, who, however, again irritated them by imprisoning their favourite leader, Vinagre. The revenge which followed was frightful. A vast host of half- savage coloured people assembled in the retired creeks behind Para, and on a day fixed, after Vinagre's brother had sent a message three times to the President demanding, in vain, the release of their leader, the whole body poured into the city through the gloomy pathways of the forest which encircles it. A cruel battle, lasting nine days, was fought in the streets; an English, French, and Portuguese man-of-war, from the side of the river, assisting the legal authorities. All the latter, however, together with every friend of peace and order, were finally obliged to retire to an island a few miles distant. The city and province were given up to anarchy; the coloured people, elated with victory, proclaimed the slaughter of all whites, except the English, French, and American residents. The mistaken principals who had first aroused all this hatred of races were obliged now to make their escape. In the interior, the supporters of lawful authority including, it must be stated, whole tribes of friendly Indians and numbers of the better disposed negroes and mulattos, concentrated themselves in certain strong positions and defended themselves, until the reconquest of the capital and large towns of the interior in 1836 by a force sent from Rio Janeiro-- after ten months of anarchy.

Years of conciliatory government, the lesson learned by the native party and the moderation of the Portuguese, aided by the indolence and passive goodness of the Paraenses of all classes and colours, were only beginning to produce their good effects about the time I am speaking of. Life, however, was now and had been for some time quite safe throughout the country. Some few of the worst characters had been transported or imprisoned, and the remainder, after being pardoned, were converted once more into quiet and peaceable citizens.

I resided at Para nearly a year and a half altogether, returning thither and making a stay of a few months after each of my shorter excursions into the interior, until the 6th of November, 1851, when I started on my long voyage to the Tapajos and the Upper Amazons, which occupied me seven years and a half. I became during this time tolerably familiar with the capital of the Amazons region, and its inhabitants. Compared with other Brazilian seaport towns, I was always told, Para shone to great advantage. It was cleaner, the suburbs were fresher, more rural and much pleasanter on account of their verdure, shade, and magnificent vegetation. The people were simpler, more peaceable and friendly in their manners and dispositions; and assassinations, which give the southern provinces so ill a reputation, were almost unknown. At the same time the Para people were much inferior to Southern Brazilians in energy and industry. Provisions and house rents being cheap and the wants of the people few--for they were content with food and lodging of a quality which would be spurned by paupers in England--they spent the greater part of their time in sensual indulgences and in amusements which the government and wealthier citizens provided for them gratis.

The trade, wholesale and retail, was in the hands of the Portuguese, of whom there were about 2500 in the place. Many handicrafts were exercised by coloured people, mulattos, mamelucos, free negroes, and Indians. The better sort of Brazilians dislike the petty details of shop-keeping, and if they cannot be wholesale merchants, prefer the life of planters in the country, however small may be the estate and the gains. The negroes constituted the class of field-labourers and porters; Indians were universally the watermen, and formed the crews of the numberless canoes of all sizes and shapes which traded between Para and the interior. The educated Brazilians, not many of whom are of pure Caucasian descent--for the immigration of Portuguese, for many years, has been almost exclusively of the male sex--are courteous, lively, and intelligent people. They were gradually weaning themselves of the ignorant, bigoted notions which they inherited from their Portuguese ancestors, especially those entertained with regard to the treatment of women. Formerly, the Portuguese would not allow their wives to go into society, or their daughters to learn reading and writing. In 1848, Brazilian ladies were only just beginning to emerge from this inferior position, and Brazilian fathers were opening their eyes to the advantages of education for their daughters. Reforms of this kind are slow. It is, perhaps, in part owing to the degrading position always held by women, that the relations between the sexes were, and are still, on so unsatisfactory a footing, and private morality at so low an ebb, in Brazil. In Para, I believe that an improvement is now taking place, but formerly promiscuous intercourse seemed to be the general rule among all classes, and intrigues and love-making the serious business of the greater part of the population. That this state of things is a necessity depending on the climate and institutions I do not believe, as I have resided at small towns in the interior, where the habits, and the general standard of morality of the inhabitants, were as pure as they are in similar places in England.

CHAPTER II

PARA

The Swampy Forests of Para--A Portuguese Landed Proprietor--Country House at Nazareth--Life of a Naturalist under the Equator--The drier Virgin Forests--Magoary--Retired Creeks-- Aborigines

After having resided about a fortnight at Mr. Miller's rocinha, we heard of another similar country-house to be let, much better situated for our purpose, in the village of Nazareth, a mile and a half from the city and close to the forest. The owner was an old Portuguese gentleman named Danin, who lived at his tile manufactory at the mouth of the Una, a small river lying two miles below Para. We resolved to walk to his place through the forest, a distance of three miles, although the road was said to be scarcely passable at this season of the year, and the Una much more easily accessible by boat. We were glad, however, of this early opportunity of traversing the rich swampy forest which we had admired so much from the deck of the ship; so, about eleven o'clock one sunny morning, after procuring the necessary information about the road, we set off in that direction. This part of the forest afterwards became one of my best hunting- grounds. I will narrate the incidents of the walk, giving my first impressions and some remarks on the wonderful vegetation. The forest is very similar on most of the low lands, and therefore, one description will do for all.

On leaving the town we walked along a straight, suburban road constructed above the level of the surrounding land. It had low swampy ground on each side, built upon, however, and containing several spacious rocinhas which were embowered in magnificent foliage. Leaving the last of these, we arrived at a part where the lofty forest towered up like a wall five or six yards from the edge of the path to the height of, probably, a hundred feet. The tree trunks were only seen partially here and there, nearly the whole frontage from ground to summit being covered with a diversified drapery of creeping plants, all of the most vivid shades of green; scarcely a flower to be seen, except in some places a solitary scarlet passion-flower set in the green mantle like a star. The low ground on the borders between the forest wall and the road was encumbered with a tangled mass of bushy and shrubby vegetation, amongst which prickly mimosas were very numerous, covering the other bushes in the same way as brambles do in England. Other dwarf mimosas trailed along the ground close to the edge of the road, shrinking at the slightest touch of the feet as we passed by. Cassia trees, with their elegant pinnate foliage and conspicuous yellow flowers, formed a great proportion of the lower trees, and arborescent arums grew in groups around the swampy hollows. Over the whole fluttered a larger number of brilliantly-coloured butterflies than we had yet seen; some wholly orange or yellow (Callidryas), others with excessively elongated wings, sailing horizontally through the air, coloured black, and varied with blue, red, and yellow (Heliconii). One magnificent grassy-green species (Colaenis Dido) especially attracted our attention. Near the ground hovered many other smaller species very similar in appearance to those found at home, attracted by the flowers of numerous leguminous and other shrubs. Besides butterflies, there were few other insects except dragonflies, which were in great numbers, similar in shape to English species, but some of them looking conspicuously different on account of their fiery red colours.

After stopping repeatedly to examine and admire, we at length walked onward. The road then ascended slightly, and the soil and vegetation became suddenly altered in character. The shrubs here were grasses, low sedges and other plants, smaller in foliage than those growing in moist grounds. The forest was second growth, low, consisting of trees which had the general aspect of laurels and other evergreens in our gardens at home-- the leaves glossy and dark green. Some of them were elegantly veined and hairy (Melastomae), while many, scattered amongst the rest, had smaller foliage (Myrtles), but these were not sufficient to subtract much from the general character of the whole.

The sun, now, for we had loitered long on the road, was exceedingly powerful. The day was most brilliant; the sky without a cloud. In fact, it was one of those glorious days which announce the commencement of the dry season. The radiation of heat from the sandy ground was visible by the quivering motion of the air above it. We saw or heard no mammals or birds; a few cattle belonging to an estate down a shady lane were congregated, panting, under a cluster of wide spreading trees. The very soil was hot to our feet, and we hastened onward to the shade of the forest which we could see not far ahead. At length, on entering it, what a relief! We found ourselves in a moderately broad pathway or alley, where the branches of the trees crossed overhead and produced a delightful shade. The woods were at first of recent growth, dense, and utterly impenetrable; the ground, instead of being clothed with grass and shrubs as in the woods of Europe, was everywhere carpeted with Lycopodiums (fern-shaped mosses). Gradually the scene became changed. We descended slightly from an elevated, dry, and sandy area to a low and swampy one; a cool air breathed on our faces, and a mouldy smell of rotting vegetation greeted us. The trees were now taller, the underwood less dense, and we could obtain glimpses into the wilderness on all sides. The leafy crowns of the trees, scarcely two of which could be seen together of the same kind, were now far away above us, in another world as it were. We could only see at times, where there was a break above, the tracery of the foliage against the clear blue sky. Sometimes the leaves were palmate, or of the shape of large outstretched hands; at others, finely cut or feathery, like the leaves of Mimosae. Below, the tree trunks were everywhere linked together by sipos; the woody, flexible stems of climbing and creeping trees, whose foliage is far away above, mingled with that of the taller independent trees. Some were twisted in strands like cables, others had thick stems contorted in every variety of shape, entwining snake-like round the tree trunks, or forming gigantic loops and coils among the larger branches; others, again, were of zigzag shape, or indented like the steps of a staircase, sweeping from the ground to a giddy height.

It interested me much afterwards to find that these climbing trees do not form any particular family. There is no distinct group of plants whose special habit is to climb, but species of many and the most diverse families, the bulk of whose members are not climbers, seem to have been driven by circumstances to adopt this habit. There is even a climbing genus of palms (Desmoncus), the species of which are called, in the Tupi language, Jacitara. These have slender, thickly-spined, and flexuous stems, which twine about the taller trees from one to the other, and grow to an incredible length. The leaves, which have the ordinary pinnate shape characteristic of the family, are emitted from the stems at long intervals, instead of being collected into a dense crown, and have at their tips a number of long recurved spines. These structures are excellent contrivances to enable the trees to secure themselves by in climbing, but they are a great nuisance to the traveller, for they sometimes hang over the pathway and catch the hat or clothes, dragging off the one or tearing the other as he passes. The number and variety of climbing trees in the Amazons forests are interesting, taken in connection with the fact of the very general tendency of the animals, also, to become climbers.

All the Amazonian, and in fact all South American, monkeys are climbers. There is no group answering to the baboons of the Old World, which live on the ground. The Gallinaceous birds of the country, the representatives of the fowls and pheasants of Asia and Africa, are all adapted by the position of the toes to perch on trees, and it is only on trees, at a great height, that they are to be seen. A genus of Plantigrade Carnivora, allied to the bears (Cercoleptes), found only in the Amazonian forests, is entirely arboreal, and has a long flexible tail like that of certain monkeys. Many other similar instances could be enumerated, but I will mention only the Geodephaga, or carnivorous ground beetles, a great proportion of whose genera and species in these forest regions are, by the structure of their feet, fitted to live exclusively on the branches and leaves of trees. Many of the woody lianas suspended from trees are not climbers, but the air-roots of epiphytous plants (Aroideae), which sit on the stronger boughs of the trees above and hang down straight as plumb-lines. Some are suspended singly, others in clusters; some reach halfway to the ground and others touch it, striking their rootlets into the earth. The underwood in this part of the forest was composed partly of younger trees of the same species as their taller neighbours, and partly of palms of many species, some of them twenty to thirty feet in height, others small and delicate, with stems no thicker than a finger. These latter (different kinds of Bactris) bore small bunches of fruit, red or black, often containing a sweet, grape-like juice.

Further on, the ground became more swampy and we had some difficulty in picking our way. The wild banana (Urania Amazonica) here began to appear, and, as it grew in masses, imparted a new aspect to the scene. The leaves of this beautiful plant are like broad-sword blades, eight feet in length and a foot broad; they rise straight upwards, alternately, from the top of a stem five or six feet high. Numerous kinds of plants with leaves similar in shape to these but smaller clothed the ground. Amongst them were species of Marantaceae, some of which had broad glossy leaves, with long leaf-stalks radiating from joints in a reed-like stem. The trunks of the trees were clothed with climbing ferns, and Pothos plants with large, fleshy, heart-shaped leaves. Bamboos and other tall grass and reed-like plants arched over the pathway. The appearance of this part of the forest was strange in the extreme; description can convey no adequate idea of it. The reader who has visited Kew may form some notion by conceiving a vegetation like that in the great palm-house, spread over a large tract of swampy ground, but he must fancy it mingled with large exogenous trees similar to our oaks and elms covered with creepers and parasites, and figure to himself the ground encumbered with fallen and rotting trunks, branches, and leaves; the whole illuminated by a glowing vertical sun, and reeking with moisture.

At length we emerged from the forest, on the banks of the Una, near its mouth. It was here about one hundred yards wide. The residence of Senor Danin stood on the opposite shore; a large building, whitewashed and red-tiled as usual, raised on wooden piles above the humid ground. The second story was the part occupied by the family, and along it was an open verandah, where people, both male and female, were at work. Below were several negroes employed carrying clay on their heads. We called out for a boat, and one of them crossed over to fetch us. Senor Danin received us with the usual formal politeness of the Portuguese, he spoke English very well, and after we had arranged our business, we remained conversing with him on various subjects connected with the country. Like all employers in this province, he was full of one topic--the scarcity of hands. It appeared that he had made great exertions to introduce white labour, but had failed, after having brought numbers of men from Portugal and other countries under engagement to work for him. They all left him one by one soon after their arrival. The abundance of unoccupied land, the liberty that exists, a state of things produced by the half-wild canoe-life of the people, and the case with which a mere subsistence can be obtained with moderate work, tempt even the best-disposed to quit regular labour as soon as they can. He complained also of the dearness of slaves, owing to the prohibition of the African traffic, telling us that formerly a slave could be bought for 120 dollars, whereas they are now difficult to procure at 400 dollars.

Mr. Danin told us that he had travelled in England and the United States, and that he had now two sons completing their education in those countries. I afterwards met with many enterprising persons of Mr. Danin's order, both Brazilians and Portuguese; their great ambition is to make a voyage to Europe or North America, and to send their sons to be educated there. The land on which his establishment is built, he told us, was an artificial embankment on the swamp; the end of the house was built on a projecting point overlooking the river, so that a good view was obtained, from the sitting-rooms, of the city and the shipping. We learned there was formerly a large and flourishing cattle estate on this spot, with an open grassy space like a park. On Sundays, gay parties of forty or fifty persons used to come by land and water, in carriages and gay galliotas, to spend the day with the hospitable owner. Since the political disorders which I have already mentioned, decay had come upon this as on most other large establishments in the country. The cultivated grounds, and the roads leading to them, were now entirely overgrown with dense forest. When we were ready to depart, Senor Danin lent a canoe and two negroes to take us to the city, where we arrived in the evening after a day rich in new experiences.

Shortly afterwards, we took possession of our new residence. The house was a square building, consisting of four equal-sized rooms; the tiled roof projected all round, so as to form a broad verandah, cool and pleasant to sit and work in. The cultivated ground, which appeared as if newly cleared from the forest, was planted with fruit trees and small plots of coffee and mandioca. The entrance to the grounds was by an iron-grille gateway from a grassy square, around which were built the few houses and palm- thatched huts which then constituted the village. The most important building was the chapel of our Lady of Nazareth, which stood opposite our place. The saint here enshrined was a great favourite with all orthodox Paraenses, who attributed to her the performance of many miracles. The image was to be seen on the altar, a handsome doll about four feet high, wearing a silver crown and a garment of blue silk, studded with golden stars. In and about the chapel were the offerings that had been made to her, proofs of the miracles which she had performed. There were models of legs, arms, breasts, and so forth, which she had cured. But most curious of all was a ship's boat, deposited here by the crew of a Portuguese vessel which had foundered, a year or two before our arrival, in a squall off Cayenne; part of them having been saved in the boat, after invoking the protection of the saint here enshrined. The annual festival in honour of our Lady of Nazareth is the greatest of the Para holidays; many persons come to it from the neighbouring city of Maranham, 300 miles distant. Once the President ordered the mail steamer to be delayed two days at Para for the convenience of these visitors. The popularity of the festival is partly owing to the beautiful weather that prevails when it takes place, namely, in the middle of the fine season, on the ten days preceding the full moon in October or November. Para is then seen at its best. The weather is not too dry, for three weeks never follow in succession without a shower; so that all the glory of verdure and flowers can be enjoyed with clear skies. The moonlit nights are then especially beautiful, the atmosphere is transparently clear, and the light sea-breeze produces an agreeable coolness.

We now settled ourselves for a few months' regular work. We had the forest on three sides of us; it was the end of the wet season; most species of birds had finished moulting, and every day the insects increased in number and variety. Behind the rocinha, after several days' exploration, I found a series of pathways through the woods, which led to the Una road; about half way was the house in which the celebrated travellers Spix and Martius resided during their stay at Para, in 1819. It was now in a neglected condition, and the plantations were overgrown with bushes. The paths hereabout were very productive of insects, and being entirely under shade, were very pleasant for strolling. Close to our doors began the main forest road. It was broad enough for two horsemen abreast, and branched off in three directions; the main line going to the village of Ourem, a distance of fifty miles. This road formerly extended to Maranham, but it had been long in disuse and was now grown up, being scarcely passable between Para and Ourem.

Our researches were made in various directions along these paths, and every day produced us a number of new and interesting species. Collecting, preparing our specimens, and making notes, kept us well occupied. One day was so much like another, that a general description of the diurnal round of incidents, including the sequence of natural phenomena, will be sufficient to give an idea of how days pass to naturalists under the equator.

We used to rise soon after dawn, when Isidoro would go down to the city, after supplying us with a cup of coffee, to purchase the fresh provisions for the day. The two hours before breakfast were devoted to ornithology. At that early period of the day the sky was invariably cloudless (the thermometer marking 72 or 73 Fahr.); the heavy dew or the previous night's rain, which lay on the moist foliage, becoming quickly dissipated by the glowing sun, which rising straight out of the east, mounted rapidly towards the zenith. All nature was fresh, new leaf and flower- buds expanding rapidly. Some mornings a single tree would appear in flower amidst what was the preceding evening a uniform green mass of forest--a dome of blossom suddenly created as if by magic. The birds were all active; from the wild-fruit trees, not far off, we often heard the shrill yelping of the Toucans (Ramphastos vitellinus). Small flocks of parrots flew over on most mornings, at a great height, appearing in distinct relief against the blue sky, always two-by-two chattering to each other, the pairs being separated by regular intervals; their bright colours, however, were not apparent at that height. After breakfast we devoted the hours from 10 a.m. to 2 or 3 p.m. to entomology; the best time for insects in the forest being a little before the greatest heat of the day.

The heat increased rapidly towards two o'clock (92 and 93 Fahr.), by which time every voice of bird or mammal was hushed; only in the trees was heard at intervals the harsh whirr of a cicada. The leaves, which were so moist and fresh in early morning, now become lax and drooping; the flowers shed their petals. Our neighbours, the Indian and Mulatto inhabitants of the open palm- thatched huts, as we returned home fatigued with our ramble, were either asleep in their hammocks or seated on mats in the shade, too languid even to talk. On most days in June and July a heavy shower would fall some time in the afternoon, producing a most welcome coolness. The approach of the rain-clouds was after a uniform fashion very interesting to observe. First, the cool sea- breeze, which commenced to blow about ten o'clock, and which had increased in force with the increasing power of the sun, would flag and finally die away. The heat and electric tension of the atmosphere would then become almost insupportable. Languor and uneasiness would seize on every one, even the denizens of the forest, betraying it by their motions. White clouds would appear in the cast and gather into cumuli, with an increasing blackness along their lower portions. The whole eastern horizon would become almost suddenly black, and this would spread upwards, the sun at length becoming obscured. Then the rush of a mighty wind is heard through the forest, swaying the tree-tops; a vivid flash of lightning bursts forth, then a crash of thunder, and down streams the deluging rain. Such storms soon cease, leaving bluish-black, motionless clouds in the sky until night. Meantime all nature is refreshed; but heaps of flower-petals and fallen leaves are seen under the trees. Towards evening life revives again, and the ringing uproar is resumed from bush and tree. The following morning the sun again rises in a cloudless sky, and so the cycle is completed; spring, summer, and autumn, as it were, in one tropical day.

The days are more or less like this throughout the year in this country. A little difference exists between the dry and wet seasons; but generally, the dry season, which lasts from July to December, is varied with showers, and the wet, from January to June, with sunny days. It results from this, that the periodical phenomena of plants and animals do not take place at about the same time in all species, or in the individuals of any given species, as they do in temperate countries. Of course there is no hybernation; nor, as the dry season is not excessive, is there any summer torpidity as in some tropical countries. Plants do not flower or shed their leaves, nor do birds moult, pair, or breed simultaneously. In Europe, a woodland scene has its spring, its summer, its autumn, and its winter aspects. In the equatorial forests the aspect is the same or nearly so every day in the year: budding, flowering, fruiting, and leaf shedding are always going on in one species or other. The activity of birds and insects proceeds without interruption, each species having its own separate times; the colonies of wasps, for instance, do not die off annually, leaving only the queens, as in cold climates; but the succession of generations and colonies goes on incessantly. It is never either spring, summer, or autumn, but each day is a combination of all three. With the day and night always of equal length, the atmospheric disturbances of each day neutralising themselves before each succeeding morn; with the sun in its course proceeding midway across the sky, and the daily temperature the same within two or three degrees throughout the year--how grand in its perfect equilibrium and simplicity is the march of Nature under the equator!

Our evenings were generally fully employed preserving our collections, and making notes. We dined at four, and took tea about seven o'clock. Sometimes we walked to the city to see Brazilian life or enjoy the pleasures of European and American society. And so the time passed away from June 15th to August 26th. During this period we made two excursions of greater length to the rice and saw-mills of Magoary, an establishment owned by an American gentleman, Mr. Upton, situated on the banks of a creek in the heart of the forest, about twelve miles from Para. I will narrate some of the incidents of these excursions, and give an account of the more interesting observations made on the Natural History and inhabitants of these interior creeks and forests.

Our first trip to the mills was by land. The creek on whose banks they stand, the Iritiri, communicates with the river Pars, through another larger creek, the Magoary; so that there is a passage by water; but this is about twenty miles round. We started at sunrise, taking Isidoro with us. The road plunged at once into the forest after leaving Nazareth, so that in a few minutes we were enveloped in shade. For some distance the woods were of second growth, the original forest near the town having been formerly cleared or thinned. They were dense and impenetrable on account of the close growth of the young trees and the mass of thorny shrubs and creepers. These thickets swarmed with ants and ant-thrushes; they were also frequented by a species of puff-throated manikin, a little bird which flies occasionally across the road, emitting a strange noise, made, I believe, with its wings, and resembling the clatter of a small wooden rattle.

A mile or a mile and a half further on, the character of the woods began to change, and we then found ourselves in the primaeval forest. The appearance was greatly different from that of the swampy tract I have already described. The land was rather more elevated and undulating; the many swamp plants with their long and broad leaves were wanting, and there was less underwood, although the trees were wider apart. Through this wilderness the road continued for seven or eight miles. The same unbroken forest extends all the way to Maranham and in other directions, as we were told, a distance of about 300 miles southward and eastward of Para. In almost every hollow part the road was crossed by a brook, whose cold, dark, leaf-stained waters were bridged over by tree trunks. The ground was carpeted, as usual, by Lycopodiums, but it was also encumbered with masses of vegetable debris and a thick coating of dead leaves. Fruits of many kinds were scattered about, amongst which were many sorts of beans, some of the pods a foot long, flat and leathery in texture, others hard as stone. In one place there was a quantity of large empty wooden vessels, which Isidoro told us fell from the Sapucaya tree. They are called Monkey's drinking-cups (Cuyas de Macaco), and are the capsules which contain the nuts sold under the name just mentioned, in Covent Garden Market. At the top of the vessel is a circular hole, in which a natural lid fits neatly. When the nuts are ripe this lid becomes loosened and the heavy cup falls with a crash, scattering the nuts over the ground. The tree which yields the nut (Lecythis ollaria), is of immense height. It is closely allied to the Brazil-nut tree (Bertholletia excelsa), whose seeds are also enclosed in large woody vessels; but these have no lid, and fall to the ground intact. This is the reason why the one kind of nut is so much dearer than the other. The Sapucaya is not less abundant, probably, than the Bertholletia, but its nuts in falling are scattered about and eaten by wild animals; whilst the full, whole capsules of Brazil-nuts are collected by the natives.

What attracted us chiefly were the colossal trees. The general run of trees had not remarkably thick stems; the great and uniform height to which they grow without emitting a branch, was a much more noticeable feature than their thickness; but at intervals of a furlong or so a veritable giant towered up. Only one of these monstrous trees can grow within a given space; it monopolises the domain, and none but individuals of much inferior size can find a footing near it. The cylindrical trunks of these larger trees were generally about twenty to twenty-five feet in circumference. Von Martius mentions having measured trees in the Para district belonging to various species (Symphonia coccinea, Lecythis sp. and Crataeva Tapia), which were fifty to sixty feet in girth at the point where they become cylindrical. The height of the vast column-like stems could not be less than 100 feet from the ground to their lowest branch. Mr. Leavens, at the sawmills, told me they frequently squared logs for sawing a hundred feet long, of the Pao d'Arco and the Massaranduba. The total height of these trees, stem and crown together, may be estimated at from 180 to 200 feet; where one of them stands, the vast dome of foliage rises above the other forest trees as a domed cathedral does above the other buildings in a city.

A very remarkable feature in these trees is the growth of buttress-shaped projections around the lower part of their stems. The spaces between these buttresses, which are generally thin walls of wood, form spacious chambers, and may be compared to stalls in a stable; some of them are large enough to hold a half- dozen persons. The purpose of these structures is as obvious, at the first glance, as that of the similar props of brickwork which support a high wall. They are not peculiar to one species, but are common to most of the larger forest trees. Their nature and manner of growth are explained when a series of young trees of different ages is examined. It is then seen that they are the roots which have raised themselves ridge-like out of the earth; growing gradually upwards as the increasing height of the tree required augmented support. Thus, they are plainly intended to sustain the massive crown and trunk in these crowded forests, where lateral growth of the roots in the earth is rendered difficult by the multitude of competitors.

The other grand forest trees whose native names we learned, were the Moiratinga (the White or King tree), probably the same as, or allied to, the Mora Excelsa, which Sir Robert Schomburgh discovered in British Guiana; the Samauma (Eriodendron Samauma) and the Massaranduba, or Cow tree. The last-mentioned is the most remarkable. We had already heard a good deal about this tree, and about its producing from its bark a copious supply of milk as pleasant to drink as that of the cow. We had also eaten its fruit in Para, where it is sold in the streets by negro market women; and had heard a good deal of the durableness in water of its timber. We were glad, therefore, to see this wonderful tree growing in its native wilds. It is one of the largest of the forest monarchs, and is peculiar in appearance on account of its deeply-scored reddish and ragged bark. A decoction of the bark, I was told, is used as a red dye for cloth. A few days afterwards we tasted its milk, which was drawn from dry logs that had been standing many days in the hot sun, at the saw-mills. It was pleasant with coffee, but had a slight rankness when drunk pure; it soon thickens to a glue, which is excessively tenacious, and is often used to cement broken crockery. I was told that it was not safe to drink much of it, for a slave had recently nearly lost his life through taking it too freely.

In some parts of the road ferns were conspicuous objects. But I afterwards found them much more numerous on the Maranham road, especially in one place where the whole forest glade formed a vast fernery; the ground was covered with terrestrial species, and the tree trunks clothed with climbing and epiphytous kinds. I saw no tree ferns in the Para district; they belong to hilly regions; some occur, however, on the Upper Amazons.

Such were the principal features in the vegetation of the wilderness; but where were the flowers? To our great disappointment we saw none, or only such as were insignificant in appearance. Orchids are very rare in the dense forests of the low lands. I believe it is now tolerably well ascertained that the majority of forest trees in equatorial Brazil have small and inconspicuous flowers. Flower-frequenting insects are also rare in the forest. Of course they would not be found where their favourite food was wanting, but I always noticed that even where flowers occurred in the forest, few or no insects were seen upon them. In the open country or campos of Santarem on the Lower Amazons, flowering trees and bushes are more abundant, and there a large number of floral insects are attracted. The forest bees of South America belonging to the genera Melipona and Euglossa are more frequently seen feeding on the sweet sap which exudes from the trees or on the excrement of birds on leaves, rather than on flowers.

We were disappointed also in not meeting with any of the larger animals in the forest. There was no tumultuous movement, or sound of life. We did not see or hear monkeys, and no tapir or jaguar crossed our path. Birds, also, appeared to be exceedingly scarce. We heard, however, occasionally, the long-drawn, wailing note of the Inambu, a kind of partridge (Crypturus cincreus?); and, also, in the hollows on the banks, of the rivulets, the noisy notes of another bird, which seemed to go in pairs, amongst the tree-tops, calling to each other as they went. These notes resounded through the wilderness. Another solitary bird had a most sweet and melancholy song; it consisted simply of a few notes, uttered in a plaintive key, commencing high, and descending by harmonic intervals. It was probably a species of warbler of the genus Trichas. All these notes of birds are very striking and characteristic of the forest.

I afterwards saw reason to modify my opinion, founded on these first impressions, with regard to the amount and variety of animal life in this and other parts of the Amazonian forests. There is, in fact, a great variety of mammals, birds, and reptiles, but they are widely scattered, and all excessively shy of man. The region is so extensive, and uniform in the forest clothing of its surface, that it is only at long intervals that animals are seen in abundance when some particular spot is found which is more attractive than others. Brazil, moreover, is poor throughout in terrestrial mammals, and the species are of small size; they do not, therefore, form a conspicuous feature in its forests. The huntsman would be disappointed who expected to find here flocks of animals similar to the buffalo herds of North America, or the swarms of antelopes and herds of ponderous pachyderms of Southern Africa. The largest and most interesting portion of the Brazilian mammal fauna is arboreal in its habits; this feature of the animal denizens of these forests I have already alluded to. The most intensely arboreal animals in the world are the South American monkeys of the family Cebidae, many of which have a fifth hand for climbing in their prehensile tails, adapted for this function by their strong muscular development, and the naked palms under their tips. This seems to teach us that the South American fauna has been slowly adapted to a forest life, and, therefore, that extensive forests must have always existed since the region was first peopled by mammalia. But to this subject, and to the natural history of the monkeys, of which thirty-eight species inhabit the Amazon region, I shall have to return.

We often read, in books of travels, of the silence and gloom of the Brazilian forests. They are realities, and the impression deepens on a longer acquaintance. The few sounds of birds are of that pensive or mysterious character which intensifies the feeling of solitude rather than imparts a sense of life and cheerfulness. Sometimes, in the midst of the stillness, a sudden yell or scream will startle one; this comes from some defenseless fruit-eating animal, which is pounced upon by a tiger-cat or stealthy boa-constrictor. Morning and evening the howling monkeys make a most fearful and harrowing noise, under which it is difficult to keep up one's buoyancy of spirit. The feeling of inhospitable wildness, which the forest is calculated to inspire, is increased tenfold under this fearful uproar. Often, even in the still hours of midday, a sudden crash will be heard resounding afar through the wilderness, as some great bough or entire tree falls to the ground. There are, besides, many sounds which it is impossible to account for. I found the natives generally as much at a loss in this respect as myself. Sometimes a sound is heard like the clang of an iron bar against a hard, hollow tree, or a piercing cry rends the air; these are not repeated, and the succeeding silence tends to heighten the unpleasant impression which they make on the mind. With the native it is always the Curupira, the wild man or spirit of the forest, which produces all noises they are unable to explain. For myths are the rude theories which mankind, in the infancy of knowledge, invent to explain natural phenomena. The Curupira is a mysterious being, whose attributes are uncertain, for they vary according to locality. Sometimes he is described as a kind of orangutang, being covered with long, shaggy hair, and living in trees. At others, he is said to have cloven feet and a bright red face. He has a wife and children, and sometimes comes down to the rocas to steal the mandioca. At one time I had a Mameluco youth in my service, whose head was full of the legends and superstitions of the country. He always went with me into the forest; in fact, I could not get him to go alone, and whenever we heard any of the strange noises mentioned above. he used to tremble with fear. He would crouch down behind me, and beg of me to turn back; his alarm ceasing only after he had made a charm to protect us from the Curupira. For this purpose, he took a young palm leaf, plaited it, and formed it into a ring, which he hung to a branch on our track.

At length, after a six hour walk, we arrived at our destination, the last mile or two having been again through second-growth forest. The mills formed a large pile of buildings, pleasantly situated in a cleared tract of land, many acres in extent, and everywhere surrounded by the perpetual forest. We were received in the kindest manner by the overseer, Mr. Leavens, who showed us all that was interesting about the place, and took us to the best spots in the neighbourhood for birds and insects. The mills were built a long time ago by a wealthy Brazilian. They had belonged to Mr. Upton for many years. I was told that when the dark-skinned revolutionists were preparing for their attack on Para, they occupied the place, but not the slightest injury was done to the machinery or building, for the leaders said it was against the Portuguese and their party that they were at war, not against the other foreigners.

The Iritiri Creek at the mills is only a few yards wide; it winds about between two lofty walls of forest for some distance, then becomes much broader, and finally joins the Magoary. There are many other ramifications, creeks or channels, which lead to retired hamlets and scattered houses, inhabited by people of mixed white, Indian, and negro descent. Many of them did business with Mr. Leavens, bringing for sale their little harvests of rice, or a few logs of timber. It was interesting to see them in their little, heavily-laden montarias. Sometimes the boats were managed by handsome, healthy young lads, loosely clad in a straw hat, white shirt, and dark blue trousers, turned up to the knee. They steered, paddled, and managed the varejao (the boating pole), with much grace and dexterity.

We made many excursions down the Iritiri, and saw much of these creeks; besides, our second visit to the mills was by water. The Magoary is a magnificent channel; the different branches form quite a labyrinth, and the land is everywhere of little elevation. All these smaller rivers, throughout the Para Estuary, are of the nature of creeks. The land is so level, that the short local rivers have no sources and downward currents like rivers as we generally understand them. They serve the purpose of draining the land, but instead of having a constant current one way, they have a regular ebb and flow with the tide. The natives call them, in the Tupi language, Igarapes, or canoe-paths. The igarapes and furos or channels, which are infinite in number in this great river delta, are characteristic of the country. The land is everywhere covered with impenetrable forests; the houses and villages are all on the waterside, and nearly all communication is by water. This semi-aquatic life of the people is one of the most interesting features of the country. For short excursions, and for fishing in still waters, a small boat, called montaria, is universally used. It is made of five planks; a broad one for the bottom, bent into the proper shape by the action of heat, two narrow ones for the sides, and two small triangular pieces for stem and stern. It has no rudder; the paddle serves for both steering and propelling. The montaria takes here the place of the horse, mule, or camel of other regions. Besides one or more montarias, almost every family has a larger canoe, called igarite. This is fitted with two masts, a rudder, and keel, and has an arched awning or cabin near the stern, made of a framework of tough lianas thatched with palm leaves. In the igarite they will cross stormy rivers fifteen or twenty miles broad. The natives are all boat-builders. It is often remarked, by white residents, that an Indian is a carpenter and shipwright by intuition. It is astonishing to see in what crazy vessels these people will risk themselves. I have seen Indians cross rivers in a leaky montaria, when it required the nicest equilibrium to keep the leak just above water; a movement of a hair's breadth would send all to the bottom, but they managed to cross in safety. They are especially careful when they have strangers under their charge, and it is the custom of Brazilian and Portuguese travellers to leave the whole management to them. When they are alone they are more reckless, and often have to swim for their lives. If a squall overtakes them as they are crossing in a heavily-laden canoe, they all jump overboard and swim about until the heavy sea subsides, then they re-embark.

A few words on the aboriginal population of the Para estuary will not be out of place here. The banks of the Para were originally inhabited by a number of distinct tribes, who, in their habits, resembled very much the natives of the sea-coast from Maranham to Bahia. It is related that one large tribe, the Tupinambas, migrated from Pernambuco to the Amazons. One fact seems to be well-established, namely, that all the coast tribes were far more advanced in civilisation, and milder in their manners, than the savages who inhabited the interior lands of Brazil. They were settled in villages, and addicted to agriculture. They navigated the rivers in large canoes, called ubas, made of immense hollowed-out tree trunks; in these they used to go on war expeditions, carrying in the prows their trophies and calabash rattles, whose clatter was meant to intimidate their enemies. They were gentle in disposition, and received the early Portuguese settlers with great friendliness. The inland savages, on the other hand, led a wandering life, as they do at the present time, only coming down occasionally to rob the plantations of the coast tribes, who always entertained the greatest enmity towards them.

The original Indian tribes of the district are now either civilised, or have amalgamated with the white and negro immigrants. Their distinguishing tribal names have long been forgotten, and the race bears now the general appellation of Tapuyo, which seems to have been one of the names of the ancient Tupinambas. The Indians of the interior, still remaining in the savage state, are called by the Brazilians Indios, or Gentios (Heathens). All the semi-civilised Tapuyos of the villages, and in fact the inhabitants of retired places generally, speak the Lingoa geral, a language adapted by the Jesuit missionaries from the original idiom of the Tupinambas. The language of the Guaranis, a nation living on the banks of the Paraguay, is a dialect of it, and hence it is called by philologists the Tupi- Guarani language; printed grammars of it are always on sale at the shops of the Para booksellers. The fact of one language having been spoken over so wide an extent of country as that from the Amazons to Paraguay, is quite an isolated one in this country, and points to considerable migrations of the Indian tribes in former times. At present the languages spoken by neighbouring tribes on the banks of the interior rivers are totally distinct; on the Jurua, even scattered hordes belonging to the same tribe are not able to understand each other.

The civilised Tapuyo of Para differs in no essential point, in physical or moral qualities, from the Indian of the interior. He is more stoutly built, being better fed than some of them; but in this respect there are great differences amongst the tribes themselves. He presents all the chief characteristics of the American red man. The skin of a coppery brown colour, the features of the face broad, and the hair black, thick, and straight. He is generally about the middle height, thick-set, has a broad muscular chest, well-shaped but somewhat thick legs and arms, and small hands and feet. The cheek bones are not generally prominent; the eyes are black, and seldom oblique like those of the Tartar races of Eastern Asia, which are supposed to have sprung from the same original stock as the American red man. The features exhibit scarcely any mobility of expression; this is connected with the excessively apathetic and undemonstrative character of the race. They never betray, in fact they do not feel keenly, the emotions of joy, grief, wonder, fear, and so forth. They can never be excited to enthusiasm; but they have strong affections, especially those connected with family. It is commonly stated by the whites and negroes that the Tapuyo is ungrateful. Brazilian mistresses of households, who have much experience of Indians, have always a long list of instances to relate to the stranger, showing their base ingratitude. They certainly do not appear to remember or think of repaying benefits, but this is probably because they did not require, and do not value such benefits as their would-be masters confer upon them. I have known instances of attachment and fidelity on the part of Indians towards their masters, but these are exceptional cases. All the actions of the Indian show that his ruling desire is to be let alone; he is attached to his home, his quiet monotonous forest and river life; he likes to go to towns occasionally, to see the wonders introduced by the white man, but he has a great repugnance to living in the midst of the crowd; he prefers handicraft to field labour, and especially dislikes binding himself to regular labour for hire. He is shy and uneasy before strangers, but if they visit his abode, he treats them well, for he has a rooted appreciation of the duty of hospitality; there is a pride about him, and being naturally formal and polite, he acts the host with great dignity. He withdraws from towns as soon as the stir of civilisation begins to make itself felt. When we first arrived at Para many Indian families resided there, for the mode of living at that time was more like that of a large village than a city; but as soon as river steamers and more business activity were introduced, they all gradually took themselves away.

These characteristics of the Para Indians are applicable, of course, to some extent, to the Mamelucos, who now constitute a great proportion of the population. The inflexibility of character of the Indian, and his total inability to accommodate himself to new arrangements, will infallibly lead to his extinction, as immigrants, endowed with more supple organisations, increase, and civilisation advances in the Amazon region. But, as the different races amalgamate readily, and the offspring of white and Indian often become distinguished Brazilian citizens, there is little reason to regret the fate of the race. Formerly the Indian was harshly treated, and even now he is so, in many parts of the interior. But, according to the laws of Brazil, he is a free citizen, having equal privileges with the whites; and there are very strong enactments providing against the enslaving and ill-treatment of the Indians. The residents of the interior, who have no higher principles to counteract instinctive selfishness or antipathy of race, cannot comprehend why they are not allowed to compel Indians to work for them, seeing that they will not do it of their own accord. The inevitable result of the conflict of interests between a European and a weaker indigenous race, when the two come in contact, is the sacrifice of the latter. In the Para district, the Indians are no longer enslaved, but they are deprived of their lands, and this they feel bitterly, as one of them, an industrious and worthy man, related to me. Is not a similar state of things now exhibited in New Zealand, between the Maoris and the English colonists?

It is very interesting to read of the bitter contests that were carried on from the year 1570 to 1759, between the Portuguese immigrants in Brazil, and the Jesuit and other missionaries. They were similar to those which have recently taken place in South Africa, between the Beers and the English missionaries, but they were on a much larger scale. The Jesuits, as far as I could glean from tradition and history, were actuated by the same motives as our missionaries; and they seemed like them to have been, in great measure, successful, in teaching the pure and elevated Christian morality to the simple natives. But the attempt was vain to protect the weaker race from the inevitable ruin which awaited it in the natural struggle with the stronger one; in 1759, the white colonists finally prevailed, the Jesuits were forced to leave the country, and the fifty-one happy mission villages went to ruin. Since then, the aboriginal race has gone on decreasing in numbers under the treatment which it has received; it is now, as I have already stated, protected by the laws of the central government.

On our second visit to the mills, we stayed ten days. There is a large reservoir and also a natural lake near the place, both containing aquatic plants, whose leaves rest on the surface like our water lilies, but they are not so elegant as our nymphaea, either in leaf or flower. On the banks of these pools grow quantities of a species of fan-leaved palm tree, the Carana, whose stems are surrounded by whorls of strong spines. I sometimes took a montaria, and paddled myself alone down the creek. One day I got upset, and had to land on a grassy slope leading to an old plantation, where I ran about naked while my clothes were being dried on a bush. The Iritiri Creek is not so picturesque as many others which I subsequently explored. Towards the Magoary, the banks at the edge of the water are clothed with mangrove bushes, and beneath them the muddy banks into which the long roots that hang down from the fruit before it leaves the branches strike their fibres, swarm with crabs. On the lower branches the beautiful bird, Ardea helias, is found. This is a small heron of exquisitely graceful shape and mien; its plumage is minutely variegated with bars and spots of many colours, like the wings of certain kinds of moths. It is difficult to see the bird in the woods, on account of its sombre colours, and the shadiness of its dwelling-places; but its note, a soft long-drawn whistle, often betrays its hiding place. I was told by the Indians that it builds in trees, and that the nest, which is made of clay, is beautifully constructed. It is a favourite pet-bird of the Brazilians, who call it Pavao (pronounced Pavaong), or peacock. I often had opportunities to observe its habits. It soon becomes tame, and walks about the floors of houses picking up scraps of food or catching insects, which it secures by walking gently to the place where they settle, and spearing them with its long, slender beak. It allows itself to be handled by children, and will answer to its name "Pavao! Pavao!" walking up with a dainty, circumspect gait, and taking a fly or beetle from the hand.

During these rambles by land and water we increased our collections considerably. Before we left the mills, we arranged a joint excursion to the Tocantins. Mr. Leavens wished to ascend that river to ascertain if the reports were true, that cedar grew abundantly between the lowermost cataract and the mouth of the Araguava, and we agreed to accompany him.

While we were at the mills, a Portuguese trader arrived with a quantity of worm-eaten logs of this cedar, which he had gathered from the floating timber in the current of the main Amazons. The tree producing this wood, which is named cedar on account of the similarity of its aroma to that of the true cedars, is not, of course, a coniferous tree, as no member of that class is found in equatorial America, at least in the Amazons region. It is, according to Von Martius, the Cedrela Odorata, an exogen belonging to the same order as the mahogany tree. The wood is light, and the tree is therefore, on falling into the water, floated down with the river currents. It must grow in great quantities somewhere in the interior, to judge from the number of uprooted trees annually carried to the sea, and as the wood is much esteemed for cabinet work and canoe building, it is of some importance to learn where a regular supply can be obtained. We were glad of course to arrange with Mr. Leavens, who was familiar with the language, and an adept in river navigation--so we returned to Para to ship our collections for England, and prepare for the journey to a new region.

CHAPTER III

PARA

Religious Holidays--Marmoset Monkeys--Serpents--Insects

Before leaving the subject of Para, where I resided, as already stated, in all eighteen months, it will be necessary to give a more detailed account of several matters connected with the customs of the people and the Natural History of the neighbourhood, which have hitherto been only briefly mentioned. I reserve an account of the trade and improved condition of Para in 1859 for the end of this narrative.

During the first few weeks of our stay, many of those religious festivals took place, which occupied so large a share of the time and thoughts of the people. These were splendid affairs, wherein artistically-arranged processions through the streets, accompanied by thousands of people, military displays, the clatter of fireworks, and the clang of military music, were superadded to pompous religious services in the churches. To those who had witnessed similar ceremonies in the Southern countries of Europe, there would be nothing remarkable perhaps in these doings, except their taking place amidst the splendours of tropical nature; but to me they were full of novelty, and were besides interesting as exhibiting much that was peculiar in the manners of the people.

The festivals celebrate either the anniversaries of events concerning saints, or those of the more important transactions in the life of Christ. To them have been added, since the Independence, many gala days connected with the events in the Brazilian national history; but these have all a semi-religious character. The holidays had become so numerous, and interfered so much with trade and industry towards the year 1852, that the Brazilian Government was obliged to reduce them; obtaining the necessary permission from Rome to abolish several which were of minor importance. Many of those which have been retained are declining in importance since the introduction of railways and steamboats, and the increased devotion of the people to commerce; at the time of our arrival, however, they were in full glory. The way they were managed was in this fashion. A general manager or "Juiz" for each festival was elected by lot every year in the vestry of the church, and to him were handed over all the paraphernalia pertaining to the particular festival which he was chosen to manage; the image of the saint, the banners, silver crowns and so forth. He then employed a number of people to go the round of the parish, and collect alms towards defraying the expenses. It was considered that the greater the amount of money spent in wax candles, fireworks, music and feasting, the greater the honour done to the saint. If the Juiz was a rich man, he seldom sent out alms-gatherers, but celebrated the whole affair at his own expense, which was sometimes to the extent of several hundred pounds. Each festival lasted nine days (a novena), and in many cases refreshments for the public were provided every evening. In the smaller towns a ball took place two or three evenings during the novena, and on the last day there was a grand dinner. The priest, of course, had to be paid very liberally, especially for the sermon delivered on the Saint's Day or termination of the festival, sermons being extra duty in Brazil.

There was much difference as to the accessories of these festivals between the interior towns and villages and the capital; but little or no work was done anywhere whilst they lasted, and they tended much to demoralise the people. It was soon perceived that religion is rather the amusement of the Paraenses, than their serious exercise. The ideas of the majority evidently do not reach beyond the belief that all the proceedings are, in each case, in honour of the particular wooden image enshrined at the church. The uneducated Portuguese immigrants seemed to me to have very degrading notions of religion.

I have often travelled in the company of these shining examples of European enlightenment. They generally carry with them, wherever they go, a small image of some favourite saint in their trunks, and when a squall or any other danger arises, their first impulse is to rush to the cabin, take out the image and clasp it to their lips, whilst uttering a prayer for protection. The negroes and mulattos are similar in this respect to the low Portuguese, but I think they show a purer devotional feeling; and in conversation, I have always found them to be more rational in religious views than the lower orders of Portuguese. As to the Indians; with the exception of the more civilised families residing near the large towns, they exhibit no religious sentiment at all. They have their own patron saint, St. Thome, and celebrate his anniversary in the orthodox way, for they are fond of observing all the formalities; but they think the feasting to be of equal importance with the church ceremonies. At some of the festivals, masquerading forms a large part of the proceedings, and then the Indians really shine. They get up capital imitations of wild animals, dress themselves to represent the Caypor and other fabulous creatures of the forest, and act their parts throughout with great cleverness. When St. Thome's festival takes place, every employer of Indians knows that all his men will get drunk. The Indian, generally too shy to ask directly for cashaca (rum), is then very bold; he asks for a frasco at once (two-and-a-half bottles), and says, if interrogated, that he is going to fuddle in honour of St. Thome.

In the city of Para, the provincial government assists to augment the splendour of the religious holidays. The processions which traverse the principal streets consist, in the first place, of the image of the saint, and those of several other subordinate ones belonging to the same church; these are borne on the shoulders of respectable householders, who volunteer for the purpose--sometimes you will see your neighbour the grocer or the carpenter groaning under the load. The priest and his crowd of attendants precede the images, arrayed in embroidered robes, and protected by magnificent sunshades--no useless ornament here, for the heat is very great when the sun is not obscured. On each side of the long line the citizens walk, clad in crimson silk cloaks and holding each a large lighted wax candle. Behind follows a regiment or two of foot soldiers with their bands of music, and last of all the crowd--the coloured people being cleanly dressed and preserving a grave demeanour. The women are always in great force, their luxuriant black hair decorated with jasmines, white orchids and other tropical flowers. They are dressed in their usual holiday attire, gauze chemises and black silk petticoats; their necks are adorned with links of gold beads, which when they are slaves are generally the property of their mistresses, who love thus to display their wealth.

At night, when festivals are going on in the grassy squares around the suburban churches, there is really much to admire. A great deal that is peculiar in the land and the life of its inhabitants can be seen best at those times. The cheerful white church is brilliantly lighted up, and the music, not of a very solemn description, peals forth from the open windows and doors. Numbers of young gaudily-dressed negresses line the path to the church doors with stands of liqueurs, sweetmeats, and cigarettes, which they sell to the outsiders. A short distance off is heard the rattle of dice-boxes and roulette at the open-air gambling- stalls. When the festival happens on moonlit nights, the whole scene is very striking to a newcomer. Around the square are groups of tall palm trees, and beyond it, over the illuminated houses, appear the thick groves of mangoes near the suburban avenues, from which comes the perpetual ringing din of insect life. The soft tropical moonlight lends a wonderful charm to the whole.

The inhabitants are all out, dressed in their best. The upper classes, who come to enjoy the fine evening and the general cheerfulness, are seated on chairs around the doors of friendly houses. There is no boisterous conviviality, but a quiet enjoyment seems to be felt everywhere, and a gentle courtesy rules among all classes and colours. I have seen a splendidly- dressed colonel, from the President's palace, walk up to a mulatto, and politely ask his permission to take a light from his cigar. When the service is over, the church bells are set ringing, a shower of rockets mounts upwards, the bands strike up, and parties of coloured people in the booths begin their dances. About ten o'clock the Brazilian national air is played, and all disperse quietly and soberly to their homes.

At the festival of Corpus Christi, there was a very pretty arrangement. The large green square of the Trinidade was lighted up all round with bonfires. On one side a fine pavilion was erected, the upright posts consisting of real fan-leaved palm trees--the Mauritia flexuosa, which had been brought from the forest, stems and heads entire, and fixed in the ground. The booth was illuminated with coloured lamps, and lined with red and white cloth. In it were seated the ladies, not all of pure Caucasian blood, but presenting a fine sample of Para beauty and fashion.

The grandest of all these festivals is that held in honour of Our Lady of Nazareth: it is, I believe, peculiar to Para. As I have said before, it falls in the second quarter of the moon, about the middle of the dry season--that is, in October or November-- and lasts, like the others, nine days. On the first day, a very extensive procession takes place, starting from the Cathedral, whither the image of the saint had been conveyed some days previous, and terminating at the chapel or hermitage, as it is called, of the saint at Nazareth--a distance of more than two miles. The whole population turns out on this occasion. All the soldiers, both of the line and the National Guard, take part in it, each battalion accompanied by its band of music. The civil authorities, also, with the President at their head, and the principal citizens, including many of the foreign residents, join in the line. The boat of the shipwrecked Portuguese vessel is carried after the saint on the shoulders of officers or men of the Brazilian navy, and along with it are borne the other symbols of the miracles which Our Lady is supposed to have performed. The procession starts soon after the sun's heat begins to moderate-- that is, about half-past four o'clock in the afternoon. When the image is deposited in the chapel the festival is considered to be inaugurated, and the village every evening becomes the resort of the pleasure-loving population, the holiday portion of the programme being preceded, of course, by a religious service in the chapel. The aspect of the place is then that of a fair, without the humour and fun, but, at the same time, without the noise and coarseness of similar holidays in England. Large rooms are set apart for panoramic and other exhibitions, to which the public is admitted gratis. In the course of each evening, large displays of fireworks take place, all arranged according to a published programme of the festival.

The various ceremonies which take place during Lent seemed to me the most impressive, and some of them were exceedingly well- arranged. The people, both performers and spectators, conduct themselves with more gravity on these occasions, and there is no holiday-making. Performances, representing the last events in the life of Christ, are enacted in the churches or streets in such a way as to remind one of the old miracle plays or mysteries. A few days before Good Friday, a torchlight procession takes place by night from one church to another, in which is carried a large wooden image of Christ bent under the weight of the cross. The chief members of the government assist, and the whole slowly moves to the sound of muffled drums. A double procession is managed a few days afterwards. The image of St. Mary is carried in one direction, and that of the Saviour in another. The two images meet in the middle of one of the most beautiful of the churches, which is previously filled to excess with the multitudes anxious to witness the affecting meeting of mother and son a few days before the crucifixion. The images are brought face to face in the middle of the church, the crowd falls prostrate, and a lachrymose sermon is delivered from the pulpit.

The whole thing, as well as many other spectacles arranged during the few succeeding days, is highly theatrical and well calculated to excite the religious emotions of the people-- although, perhaps, only temporarily. On Good Friday the bells do not ring, all musical sounds are interdicted, and the hours, night and day, are announced by the dismal noise of wooden clappers, wielded by negroes stationed near the different churches. A sermon is delivered in each church. In the middle of it, a scroll is suddenly unfolded from the pulpit, upon which is an exaggerated picture of the bleeding Christ. This act is accompanied by loud groans, which come from stout-lunged individuals concealed in the vestry and engaged for the purpose. The priest becomes greatly excited, and actually sheds tears. On one of these occasions I squeezed myself into the crowd, and watched the effect of the spectacle on the audience. Old Portuguese men and Brazilian women seemed very much affected-- sobbing, beating their breasts, and telling their beads. The negroes themselves behaved with great propriety, but seemed moved more particularly by the pomp, the gilding, the dresses, and the general display. Young Brazilians laughed. Several aborigines were there, coolly looking on. One old Indian, who was standing near me, said, in a derisive manner, when the sermon was over: "It's all very good; better it could not be" (Esta todo bom; melhor nao pude ser).

The negroes of Para are very devout. They have built, by slow degrees, as I was told, a fine church by their own unaided exertions. It is called Nossa Senhora do Rosario, or Our Lady of the Rosary. During the first weeks of our residence at Para, I frequently observed a line of negroes and negresses, late at night, marching along the streets, singing a chorus. Each carried on his or her head a quantity of building materials--stones, bricks, mortar, or planks. I found they were chiefly slaves, who, after their hard day's work, were contributing a little towards the construction of their church. The materials had all been purchased by their own savings. The interior was finished about a year afterwards, and is decorated, I thought, quite as superbly as the other churches which were constructed, with far larger means, by the old religious orders more than a century ago. Annually, the negroes celebrate the festival of Nossa Senora de Rosario, and generally make it a complete success.

I will now add a few more notes which I have accumulated on the subject of the natural history, and then we shall have done, for the present, with Para and its neighbourhood.

I have already mentioned that monkeys were rare in the immediate vicinity of Para. I met with only three species in the forest near the city; they are shy animals, and avoid the neighbourhood of towns, where they are subject to much persecution by the inhabitants, who kill them for food. The only kind which I saw frequently was the little Midas ursulus, one of the Marmosets, a family peculiar to tropical America, and differing in many essential points of structure and habits from all other apes. They are small in size, and more like squirrels than true monkeys in their manner of climbing. The nails, except those of the hind thumbs, are long and claw-shaped like those of squirrels, and the thumbs of the fore extremities, or hands, are not opposable to the other fingers. I do not mean to imply that they have a near relationship to squirrels, which belong to the Rodents, an inferior order of mammals; their resemblance to those animals is merely a superficial one. They have two molar teeth less in each jaw than the Cebidae, the other family of American monkeys; they agree with them, however, in the sideway position of the nostrils, a character which distinguishes both from all the monkeys of the old world. The body is long and slender, clothed with soft hairs, and the tail, which is nearly twice the length of the trunk, is not prehensile. The hind limbs are much larger in volume than the anterior pair. The Midas ursulus is never seen in large flocks; three or four is the greatest number observed together. It seems to be less afraid of the neighbourhood of man than any other monkey. I sometimes saw it in the woods which border the suburban streets, and once I espied two individuals in a thicket behind the English consul's house at Nazareth. Its mode of progression along the main boughs of the lofty trees is like that of the squirrel; it does not ascend to the slender branches, or take those wonderful flying leaps which the Cebidae do, whose prehensile tails and flexible hands fit them for such headlong travelling. It confines itself to the larger boughs and trunks of trees, the long nails being of great assistance to the creature, enabling it to cling securely to the bark, and it is often seen passing rapidly around the perpendicular cylindrical trunks. It is a quick, restless, timid little creature, and has a great share of curiosity, for when a person passes by under the trees along which a flock is running, they always stop for a few moments to have a stare at the intruder.

In Para, Midas ursulus is often seen in a tame state in the houses of the inhabitants. When full grown it is about nine inches long, independently of the tail, which measures fifteen inches. The fur is thick, and black in colour, with the exception of a reddish-brown streak down the middle of the back. When first taken, or when kept tied up, it is very timid and irritable. It will not allow itself to be approached, but keeps retreating backwards when any one attempts to coax it. It is always in a querulous humour, uttering a twittering, complaining noise; its dark, watchful eyes are expressive of distrust, and observant of every movement which takes place near it. When treated kindly, however, as it generally is in the houses of the natives, it becomes very tame and familiar. I once saw one as playful as a kitten, running about the house after the negro children, who fondled it to their hearts' content. It acted somewhat differently towards strangers, and seemed not to like them to sit in the hammock which was slung in the room, leaping up, trying to bite, and otherwise annoying them. It is generally fed sweet fruits, such as the banana; but it is also fond of insects, especially soft-bodied spiders and grasshoppers, which it will snap up with eagerness when within reach. The expression of countenance in these small monkeys is intelligent and pleasing. This is partly owing to the open facial angle, which is given as one of 60; but the quick movements of the head, and the way they have of inclining it to one side when their curiosity is excited, contribute very much to give them a knowing expression.

On the Upper Amazons I once saw a tame individual of the Midas leoninus, a species first described by Humboldt, which was still more playful and intelligent than the one just described. This rare and beautiful little monkey is only seven inches in length, exclusive of the tail. It is named leoninus on account of the long brown mane which depends from the neck, and which gives it very much the appearance of a diminutive lion. In the house where it was kept, it was familiar with everyone; its greatest pleasure seeming to be to climb about the bodies of different persons who entered. The first time I went in, it ran across the room straightway to the chair on which I had sat down, and climbed up to my shoulder; having arrived there, it turned round and looked into my face, showing its little teeth and chattering, as though it would say, "Well, and how do you do?" It showed more affection towards its master than towards strangers, and would climb up to his head a dozen times in the course of an hour, making a great show every time of searching there for certain animalcula. Isidore Geoffroy St. Hilaire relates of a species of this genus, that it distinguished between different objects depicted on an engraving. M. Audouin showed it the portraits of a cat and a wasp; at these it became much terrified; whereas, at the sight of a figure of a grasshopper or beetle, it precipitated itself on the picture, as if to seize the objects there represented.

Although monkeys are now rare in a wild state near Para, a great number may be seen semi-domesticated in the city. The Brazilians are fond of pet animals. Monkeys, however, have not been known to breed in captivity in this country. I counted, in a short time, thirteen different species, whilst walking about the Para streets, either at the doors or windows of houses, or in the native canoes. Two of them I did not meet with afterwards in any other part of the country. One of these was the well-known Hapale Jacchus, a little creature resembling a kitten, banded with black and grey all over the body and tail, and having a fringe of long white hairs surrounding the ears. It was seated on the shoulder of a young mulatto girl, as she was walking along the street, and I was told had been captured in the island of Marajo. The other was a species of Cebus, with a remarkably large head. It had ruddy-brown fur, paler on the face, but presenting a blackish tuft on the top of the forehead.

In the wet season serpents are common in the neighbourhood of Para. One morning, in April, 1849, after a night of deluging rain, the lamplighter, on his rounds to extinguish the lamps, woke me up to show me a boa-constrictor he had just killed in the Rua St. Antonio, not far from my door. He had cut it nearly in two with a large knife, as it was making its way down the sandy street. Sometimes the native hunters capture boa- constrictors alive in the forest near the city. We bought one which had been taken in this way, and kept it for some time in a large box under our verandah. This is not, however, the largest or most formidable serpent found in the Amazons region. It is far inferior, in these respects, to the hideous Sucuruju, or Water Boa (Eunectes murinus), which sometimes attacks man; but of this I shall have to give an account in a subsequent chapter.

It frequently happened, in passing through the thickets, that a snake would fall from the boughs close to me. Once for a few moments I got completely entangled in the folds of one, a wonderfully slender kind, being nearly six feet in length, and not more than half an inch in diameter at its broadest part. It was a species of Dryophis. The majority of the snakes seen were innocuous. One day, however, I trod on the tail of a young serpent belonging to a very poisonous kind, the Jararaca (Craspedocephalus atrox). It turned round and bit my trousers; and a young Indian lad, who was behind me, dexterously cut it through with his knife before it had time to free itself. In some seasons snakes are very abundant, and it often struck me as strange that accidents did not occur more frequently than was the case.

Amongst the most curious snakes found here were the Amphisbaenae, a genus allied to the slow-worm of Europe. Several species occur at Para. Those brought to me were generally not much more than a foot in length. They are of cylindrical shape, having, properly speaking, no neck, and the blunt tail which is only about an inch in length, is of the same shape as the head. This peculiar form, added to their habit of wriggling backwards as well as forwards, has given rise to the fable that they have two heads, one at each extremity. They are extremely sluggish in their motions, and are clothed with scales that have the form of small imbedded plates arranged in rings round the body. The eye is so small as to be scarcely perceptible. They live habitually in the subterranean chambers of the Sauba ant; only coming out of their abodes occasionally in the night time. The natives call the Amphisbaena the "Mai das Saubas," or Mother of the Saubas, and believe it to be poisonous, although it is perfectly harmless. It is one of the many curious animals which have become the subject of mythical stories with the natives. They say the ants treat it with great affection, and that if the snake be taken away from a nest, the Saubas will forsake the spot. I once took one quite whole out of the body of a young Jararaca, the poisonous species already alluded to, whose body was so distended with its contents that the skin was stretched out to a film over the contained Amphisbaena. I was, unfortunately, not able to ascertain the exact relation which subsists between these curious snakes and the Sauba ants. I believe however, they feed upon the Saubas, for I once found remains of ants in the stomach of one of them. Their motions are quite peculiar; the undilatable jaws, small eyes and curious plated integument also distinguish them from other snakes. These properties have evidently some relation to their residence in the subterranean abodes of ants. It is now well ascertained by naturalists, that some of the most anomalous forms amongst Coleopterous insects are those which live solely in the nests of ants, and it is curious that an abnormal form of snakes should also be found in the society of these insects.

The neighbourhood of Para is rich in insects. I do not speak of the number of individuals, which is probably less than one meets with, excepting ants and termites, in summer days in temperate latitudes; but the variety, or in other words, the number of species, is very great. It will convey some idea of the diversity of butterflies when I mention that about 700 species of that tribe are found within an hour's walk of the town; while the total number found in the British Islands does not exceed 66, and the whole of Europe supports only 321. Some of the most showy species, such as the swallow-tailed kinds, Papilio Polycaon, Thoas, Torquatus, and others, are seen flying about the streets and gardens; sometimes they come through the open windows, attracted by flowers in the apartments. Those species of Papilio which are most characteristic of the country, so conspicuous in their velvety-black, green, and rose-coloured hues, which Linnaeus, in pursuance of his elegant system of nomenclature-- naming the different kinds after the heroes of Greek mythology-- called Trojans, never leave the shades of the forest. The splendid metallic blue Morphos, some of which measure seven inches in expanse, are generally confined to the shady alleys of the forest. They sometimes come forth into the broad sunlight.

When we first went to look at our new residence in Nazareth, a Morpho Menelaus, one of the most beautiful kinds, was seen flapping its huge wings like a bird along the verandah. This species, however, although much admired, looks dull in colour by the side of its congener, the Morpho Rhetenor, whose wings, on the upper face, are of quite a dazzling lustre. Rhetenor usually prefers the broad sunny roads in the forest, and is an almost unattainable prize, on account of its lofty flight, for it very rarely descends nearer the ground than about twenty feet. When it comes sailing along, it occasionally flaps its wings, and then the blue surface flashes in the sunlight, so that it is visible a quarter of a mile off. There is another species of this genus, of a satiny-white hue, the Morpho Uraneis; this is equally difficult to obtain; the male only has the satiny lustre, the female being of a pale-lavender colour. It is in the height of the dry season that the greatest number and variety of butterflies are found in the woods; especially when a shower falls at intervals of a few days. An infinite number of curious and rare species may then be taken, most diversified in habits, mode of flight, colours, and markings: some yellow, others bright red, green, purple, and blue, and many bordered or spangled with metallic lines and spots of a silvery or golden lustre. Some have wings transparent as glass-- one of these clear wings is especially beautiful, namely, the Hetaira Esmeralda. It has one spot only of opaque colouring on its wings, which is of a violet and rose hue; this is the only part visible when the insect is flying low over dead leaves in the gloomy shades where alone it is found, and it then looks like a wandering petal of a flower.

Bees and wasps are not especially numerous near Para, and I will reserve an account of their habits for a future chapter. Many species of Mygale, those monstrous hairy spiders, half a foot in expanse, which attract the attention so much in museums, are found in sandy places at Nazareth. The different kinds have the most diversified habits. Some construct, amongst the tiles or thatch of houses, dens of closely-woven web, which, in its texture, very much resembles fine muslin; these are often seen crawling over the walls of apartments. Others build similar nests in trees, and are known to attack birds. One very robust fellow, the Mygale Blondii, burrows into the earth, forming a broad, slanting gallery, about two feet long, the sides of which he lines beautifully with silk. He is nocturnal in his habits. Just before sunset he may be seen keeping watch within the mouth of his tunnel, disappearing suddenly when he hears a heavy foot- tread near his hiding place. The number of spiders ornamented with showy colours was somewhat remarkable. Some double themselves up at the base of leaf-stalks, so as to resemble flower-buds, and thus deceive the insects on which they prey. The most extraordinary-looking spider was a species of Acrosoma, which had two curved bronze-coloured spines, an inch and a half in length, proceeding from the tip of its abdomen. It spins a large web, the monstrous appendages being apparently no impediment to it in its work; but what their use can be I am unable to divine.

Coleoptera, or beetles, at first seemed to be very scarce. This apparent scarcity has been noticed in other equatorial countries, and arises, probably, from the great heat of the sun not permitting them to exist in exposed situations, where they form such conspicuous objects in Europe. Many hundred species of the different families can be found when they are patiently searched for in the shady places to which they are confined. It is vain to look for the Geodephaga, or carnivorous beetles, under stones, or anywhere, indeed, in open, sunny places. The terrestrial forms of this interesting family, which abound in England and temperate countries generally, are scarce in the neighbourhood of Para; in fact, I met with only four or five species.

On the other hand, the purely arboreal kinds were rather numerous. The contrary of this happens in northern latitudes, where the great majority of the species and genera are exclusively terrestrial. The arboreal forms are distinguished by the structure of the feet, which have broad spongy soles and toothed claws, enabling them to climb over and cling to branches and leaves. The remarkable scarcity of ground beetles is, doubtless, attributable to the number of ants and Termites which people every inch of surface in all shady places, and which would most likely destroy the larvae of Coleoptera. Moreover, these active creatures have the same functions as Coleoptera, and thus render their existence unnecessary. The large proportion of climbing forms of carnivorous beetles is an interesting fact, because it affords another instance of the arboreal character which animal forms tend to assume in equinoctial America, a circumstance which points to the slow adaptation of the fauna to a forest-clad country throughout an immense lapse of geological time.

CHAPTER IV

THE TOCANTINS AND CAMETA

Preparations for the journey--The Bay of Goajara--Grove of fan-

leaved Palms--The lower Tocantins--Sketch of the River-Vista

Alegre--Baiao--Rapids--Boat journey to the Guariba Falls--Native

Life on the Tocantins--Second journey to Cameta.

August 26th, 1848--Mr. Wallace and I started today on the

excursion ,which I have already mentioned as having been planned

with Mr. Leavens, up the river Tocantins, whose mouth lies about

forty-five miles in a straight line, but eighty miles following

the bends of the river channels to the southwest of Para. This

river, as before stated, has a course of 1600 miles, and stands

third in rank amongst the streams which form the Amazons system.

The preparations for the journey took a great deal of time and

trouble. We had first to hire a proper vessel, a two-masted

vigilinga twenty-seven feet long, with a flat prow and great

breadth of beam and fitted to live in heavy seas; for, although

our voyage was only a river trip, there were vast sea-like

expanses of water to traverse. It was not decked over, but had

two arched awnings formed of strong wickerwork, and thatched with

palm leaves. We then had to store it with provisions for three

months, the time we at first intended to be away; procure the

necessary passports; and, lastly, engage a crew. Mr. Leavens,

having had much experience in the country, managed all these

matters. He brought two Indians from the rice-mills, and these

induced another to enroll himself. We, on our parts, took our

cook Isidoro, and a young Indian lad, named Antonio, who had

attached himself to us in the course of our residence at

Nazareth. Our principal man was Alexandro, one of Mr. Leavens's

Indians. He was an intelligent and well-disposed young Tapuyo, an

expert sailor, and an indefatigable hunter. To his fidelity we

were indebted for being enabled to carry out any of the objects

of our voyage. Being a native of a district near the capital,

Alexandro was a civilised Tapuyo, a citizen as free as his white

neighbours. He spoke only Portuguese. He was a spare-built man,

rather under the middle height, with fine regular features, and,

what was unusual in Indians, the upper lip decorated with a

moustache. Three years afterwards I saw him at Para in the

uniform of the National Guard, and he called on me often to talk

about old times. I esteemed him as a quiet, sensible, manly young

fellow.

We set sail in the evening, after waiting several hours in vain

for one of our crew. It was soon dark, the wind blew stiffly, and

the tide rushed along with great rapidity, carrying us swiftly

past the crowd of vessels which were anchored in the port. The

canoe rolled a good deal. After we had made five or six miles of

way, the tide turned and we were obliged to cast anchor. Not long

after, we lay ourselves down, all three together, on the mat

which was spread over the floor of our cabin, and soon fell

asleep.

On awaking at sunrise the next morning, we found ourselves

gliding upwards with the tide, along the Bahia or Bay, as it is

called, of Goajara. This is a broad channel lying between the

mainland and a line of islands which extends some distance beyond

the city. Into it three large rivers discharge their waters,

namely, the Guama, the Acara, and the Moju-- so that it forms a

kind of sub-estuary within the grand estuary of Para. It is

nearly four miles broad. The left bank, along which we were now

sailing, was beautiful in the extreme; not an inch of soil was to

be seen; the water frontage presented a compact wall of rich and

varied forest, resting on the surface of the stream. It seemed to

form a finished border to the water scene, where the dome-like,

rounded shapes of exogenous trees which constituted the mass

formed the groundwork, and the endless diversity of broad-leaved

Heliconiae and Palms--each kind differing in stem, crown, and

fronds--the rich embroidery. The morning was calm and cloudless;

and the slanting beams of the early sun, striking full on the

front of the forest, lighted up the whole most gloriously. The

only sound of life which reached us was the call of the Serracura

(Gallinula Cayennensis), a kind of wild-fowl; all else was so

still that the voices of boatmen could be plainly heard from

canoes passing a mile or two distant from us. The sun soon gains

great power on the water, but with it the sea-breeze increases in

strength, moderating the heat which would otherwise be almost

insupportable. We reached the end of the Goajara about midday,

and then entered the narrower channel of the Moju. Up this we

travelled, partly rowing and partly sailing between the same

unbroken walls of forest, until the morning of the 28th.

August 29th--The Moju, a stream slightly inferior to the Thames

in size, is connected about twenty miles from its mouth by means

of a short, artificial canal with a small stream, the Igarape-

mirim, which flows the opposite way into the water-system of the

Tocantins. Small vessels like ours take this route in preference

to the stormy passage by way of the main river, although the

distance is considerably greater. We passed through the canal

yesterday, and today have been threading our way through a

labyrinth of narrow channels, their banks all clothed with the

same magnificent forest, but agreeably varied by houses of

planters and settlers. We passed many quite large establishments,

besides one pretty little village called Santa Anna. All these

channels are washed through by the tides--the ebb, contrary to

what takes place in the short canal, setting towards the

Tocantins. The water is almost tepid (77 Fahr.), and the rank

vegetation all around seems reeking with moisture. The country

however, as we were told, is perfectly healthy. Some of the

houses are built on wooden piles driven into the mud of the

swamp.

In the afternoon we reached the end of the last channel, called

the Murut Ipucu, which runs for several miles between two

unbroken lines of fan-leaved palms, forming colossal palisades

with their straight stems . On rounding a point of land, we came

in full view of the Tocantins. The event was announced by one of

our Indians, who was on the lookout at the prow, shouting: "La

esta o Parana-uassu!" "Behold, the great river!" It was a grand

sight- -a broad expanse of dark waters dancing merrily to the

breeze; the opposite shore, a narrow blue line, miles away.

We went ashore on an island covered with palm trees, to make a

fire and boil our kettle for tea. I wandered a short way inland,

and was astounded at the prospect. The land lay below the upper

level of the daily tides, so that there was no underwood, and the

ground was bare. The trees were almost all of one species of

Palm, the gigantic fan-leaved Mauritia flexuosa; only on the

borders was there a small number of a second kind, the equally

remarkable Ubussu palm, Manicaria saccifera. The Ubussu has

erect, uncut leaves, twenty-five feet long, and six feet wide,

all arranged round the top of a four-foot high stem, so as to

form a figure like that of a colossal shuttlecock. The fan-leaved

palms, which clothed nearly the entire islet, had huge

cylindrical smooth stems, three feet in diameter, and about a

hundred feet high. The crowns were formed of enormous clusters of

fan-shaped leaves, the stalks alone of which measured seven to

ten feet in length. Nothing in the vegetable world could be more

imposing than this grove of palms. There was no underwood to

obstruct the view of the long perspective of towering columns.

The crowns, which were densely packed together at an immense

height overhead, shut out the rays of the sun; and the gloomy

solitude beneath, through which the sound of our voices seemed to

reverberate, could be compared to nothing so well as a solemn

temple. The fruits of the two palms were scattered over the

ground; those of the Ubussu adhere together by twos and threes,

and have a rough, brown-coloured shell; the fruit of the

Mauritia, on the contrary, is of a bright red hue, and the skin

is impressed with deep-crossing lines, which give it a

resemblance to a quilted cricket-ball.

About midnight, the tide being favourable and the breeze strong,

we crossed the river, taking it in a slanting direction a

distance of sixteen miles, and arrived at eight o'clock the

following morning at Cameta. This is a town of some importance,

pleasantly situated on the somewhat high terra firma of the left

bank of the Tocantins. I will defer giving an account of the

place till the end of this narrative of our Tocantins voyage. We

lost here another of our men, who got drinking with some old

companions ashore, and were obliged to start on the difficult

journey up the river with two hands only, and they in a very

dissatisfied humour with the prospect.

The river view from Cameta is magnificent. The town is situated,

as already mentioned, on a high bank, which forms quite a

considerable elevation for this flat country, and the broad

expanse of dark-green waters is studded with low, palm-clad

islands-- the prospect down river, however, being clear, or

bounded only by a sea-like horizon of water and sky. The shores

are washed by the breeze-tossed waters into little bays and

creeks, fringed with sandy beaches. The Tocantins has been

likened, by Prince Adalbert of Prussia, who crossed its mouth in

1846, to the Ganges. It is upwards of ten miles in breadth at its

mouth; opposite Cameta it is five miles broad. Mr. Burchell, the

well-known English traveller, descended the river from the mining

provinces of interior Brazil some years before our visit.

Unfortunately, the utility of this fine stream is impaired by the

numerous obstructions to its navigation in the shape of cataracts

and rapids, which commence, in ascending, at about 120 miles

above Cameta, as will be seen in the sequel.

August 30th.--Arrived, in company with Senor Laroque, an

intelligent Portuguese merchant, at Vista Alegre, fifteen miles

above Cameta. This was the residence of Senor Antonio Ferreira

Gomez, and was a fair sample of a Brazilian planter's

establishment in this part of the country. The buildings covered

a wide space, the dwelling-house being separated from the place

of business, and as both were built on low, flooded ground, the

communication between the two was by means of a long wooden

bridge. From the office and visitors' apartments a wooden pier

extended into the river. The whole was raised on piles above the

high-water mark. There was a rude mill for grinding sugar-cane,

worked by bullocks; but cashaca, or rum, was the only article

manufactured from the juice. Behind the buildings was a small

piece of ground cleared from the forest, and planted with fruit

trees-- orange, lemon, genipapa, goyava, and others; and beyond

this, a broad path through a neglected plantation of coffee and

cacao, led to several large sheds, where the farinha, or mandioca

meal, was manufactured. The plantations of mandioca are always

scattered about in the forest, some of them being on islands in

the middle of the river. Land being plentiful, and the plough, as

well as, indeed, nearly all other agricultural implements,

unknown, the same ground is not planted three years together; but

a new piece of forest is cleared every alternate year, and the

old clearing suffered to relapse into jungle.

We stayed here two days, sleeping ashore in the apartment devoted

to strangers. As usual in Brazilian houses of the middle class,

we were not introduced to the female members of the family, and,

indeed, saw nothing of them except at a distance. In the forest

and thickets about the place we were tolerably successful in

collecting, finding a number of birds and insects which do not

occur at Para. I saw here, for the first time, the sky-blue

Chatterer (Ampelis cotinga). It was on the topmost bough of a

very lofty tree, and completely out of the reach of an ordinary

fowling-piece. The beautiful light-blue colour of its plumage was

plainly discernible at that distance. It is a dull, quiet bird. A

much commoner species was the Cigana or Gipsy (Opisthocomus

cristatus), a bird belonging to the same order (Gallinacea) as

our domestic fowl. It is about the size of a pheasant; the

plumage is dark brown, varied with reddish, and the head is

adorned with a crest of long feathers. It is a remarkable bird in

many respects. The hind toe is not placed high above the level of

the other toes, as it is in the fowl order generally, but lies on

the same plane with them; the shape of the foot becomes thus

suited to the purely arboreal habits of the bird, enabling it to

grasp firmly the branches of trees. This is a distinguishing

character of all the birds in equinoctial America which

represents the fowl and pheasant tribes of the old world, and

affords another proof of the adaptation of the fauna to a forest

region. The Cigana lives in considerable flocks on the lower

trees and bushes bordering the streams and lagoons, and feeds on

various wild fruits, especially the sour Goyava (Psidium sp). The

natives say it devours the fruit of arborescent Arums (Caladium

arborescens), which grow in crowded masses around the swampy

banks of lagoons. Its voice is a harsh, grating hiss; it makes

the noise when alarmed or when disturbed by passing canoes, all

the individuals sibilating as they fly heavily away from tree to

tree. It is polygamous, like other members of the same order. It

is never, however, by any chance, seen on the ground, and is

nowhere domesticated. The flesh has an unpleasant odour of musk

combined with wet hides--a smell called by the Brazilians

catinga; it is, therefore, uneatable. If it be as unpalatable to

carnivorous animals as it is to man, the immunity from

persecution which it would thereby enjoy would account for its

existing in such great numbers throughout the country.

We lost another of our crew here; and thus, at the commencement

of our voyage, had before us the prospect of being forced to

return, from sheer want of hands, to manage the canoe. Senor

Gomez, to whom we had brought letters of introduction from Senor

Joao Augusto Correia, a Brazilian gentlemen of high standing at

Para, tried what he could do to induce the canoe-men of his

neighbourhood to engage with us, but it was a vain endeavour. The

people of these parts seemed to be above working for wages. They

are naturally indolent, and besides, have all some little

business or plantation of their own, which gives them a

livelihood with independence. It is difficult to obtain hands

under any circumstances, but it was particularly so in our case,

from being foreigners, and suspected, as was natural amongst

ignorant people, of being strange in our habits. At length, our

host lent us two of his slaves to help us on another stage,

namely, to the village of Baiao, where we had great hopes of

having this, our urgent want, supplied by the military commandant

of the district.

September 2nd--The distance from Vista Alegre to Baiao is about

twenty-five miles. We had but little wind, and our men were

therefore obliged to row the greater part of the way. The oars

used in such canoes as ours are made by tying a stout paddle to

the end of a long pole by means of woody lianas. The men take

their stand on a raised deck, formed by a few rough planks placed

over the arched covering in the fore part of the vessel, and pull

with their backs to the stern. We started at six a.m., and about

sunset reached a point where the west channel of the river, along

which we had been travelling since we left Cameta, joined a

broader middle one, and formed with it a great expanse of water.

The islands here seem to form two pretty regular lines, dividing

the great river into three channels. As we progressed slowly, we

took the montaria, and went ashore, from time to time, to the

houses, which were numerous on the river banks as well as on the

larger islands. In low situations they had a very unfinished

appearance, being mere frameworks raised high on wooden piles,

and thatched with the leaves of the Ubussu palm. In their

construction another palm tree is made much use of, viz., the

Assai (Euterpe oleracea). The outer part of the stem of this

species is hard and tough as horn-- it is split into narrow

planks, and these form a great portion of the walls and flooring.

The residents told us that the western channel becomes nearly dry

in the middle of the fine season, but that at high water, in

April and May, the river rises to the level of the house floors.

The river bottom is everywhere sandy, and the country perfectly

healthy. The people seemed to all be contented and happy, but

idleness and poverty were exhibited by many unmistakeable signs.

As to the flooding of their island abodes, they did not seem to

care about that at all. They seem to be almost amphibious, or as

much at home on the water as on land. It was really quite

alarming to see men and women and children, in little leaky

canoes laden to the water-level with bag and baggage, crossing

broad reaches of river.

Most of them have houses also on the terra firma, and reside in

the cool palm swamps of the Ygapo islands, as they are called,

only in the hot and dry season. They live chiefly on fish,

shellfish (amongst which were large Ampullariae, whose flesh I

found, on trial, to be a very tough morsel), the never failing

farinha, and the fruits of the forest. Among the latter, the

fruits of palm trees occupied the chief place. The Assai is the

most in use, but this forms a universal article of diet in all

parts of the country. The fruit, which is perfectly round, and

about the size of a cherry, contains but a small portion of pulp

lying between the skin and the hard kernel. This is made, with

the addition of water, into a thick, violet-coloured beverage,

which stains the lips like blackberries. The fruit of the Miriti

is also a common article of food, although the pulp is sour and

unpalatable, at least to European tastes. It is boiled, and then

eaten with farinha. The Tucuma (Astrocaryum tucuma), and the

Mucuja (Acrocomia lasiospatha), grow only on the mainland. Their

fruits yield a yellowish, fibrous pulp, which the natives eat in

the same way as the Miriti. They contain so much fatty matter,

that vultures and dogs devour them greedily.

Early on the morning of September 3rd we reached the right or

eastern bank, which is forty to sixty feet high at this point.

The houses were more substantially built than those we had

hitherto seen. We succeeded in buying a small turtle; most of the

inhabitants had a few of these animals, which they kept in little

enclosures made with stakes. The people were of the same class

everywhere, Mamelucos. They were very civil; we were not able,

however, to purchase much fresh food from them. I think this was

owing to their really not having more than was absolutely

required to satisfy their own needs. In these districts, where

the people depend solely on fishing for animal food, there is a

period of the year when they suffer hunger, so that they are

disposed to highly prize a small stock when they have it. They

generally answered in the negative when we asked, money in hand,

whether they had fowls, turtles, or eggs to sell. "Nao ha, sinto

que nao posso lhe ser bom"; or, "Nao ha, men coracao-- we have

none; I am sorry I cannot oblige you"; or, "There is none, my

heart."

Sept. 3rd to 7th.--At half-past eight a.m. we arrived at Baiao,

which is built on a very high bank, and contains about 400

inhabitants. We had to climb to the village up a ladder, which is

fixed against the bank, and, on arriving at the top, took

possession of a room, which Senhor Seixas had given orders to be

prepared for us. He himself was away at his sitio, and would not

be here until the next day. We were now quite dependent upon him

for men to enable us to continue our voyage, and so had no remedy

but to wait his leisure. The situation of the place, and the

nature of the woods around it, promised well for novelties in

birds and insects; so we had no reason to be vexed at the delay,

but brought our apparatus and store-boxes up from the canoe, and

set to work.

The easy, lounging life of the people amused us very much. I

afterwards had plenty of time to become used to tropical village

life. There is a free, familiar, pro-bono publico style of living

in these small places, which requires some time for a European to

fall into. No sooner were we established in our rooms, than a

number of lazy young fellows came to look on and make remarks,

and we had to answer all sorts of questions. The houses have

their doors and windows open to the street, and people walk in

and out as they please; there is always, however, a more secluded

apartment, where the female members of the families reside. In

their familiarity there is nothing intentionally offensive, and

it is practised simply in the desire to be civil and sociable. A

young Mameluco, named Soares, an Escrivao, or public clerk, took

me into his house to show me his library. I was rather surprised

to see a number of well-thumbed Latin classics: Virgil, Terence,

Cicero's Epistles, and Livy. I was not familiar enough, at this

early period of my residence in the country, with Portuguese to

converse freely with Senhor Scares, or ascertain what use he made

of these books; it was an unexpected sight, a classical library

in a mud-plastered and palm-thatched hut on the banks of the

Tocantins.

The prospect from the village was magnificent, over the green

wooded islands, far away to the grey line of forest on the

opposite shore of the Tocantins. We were now well out of the low

alluvial country of the Amazons proper, and the climate was

evidently much drier than it is near Para. They had had no rain

here for many weeks, and the atmosphere was hazy around the

horizon-- so much so that the sun, before setting, glared like a

blood-red globe. At Para this never happens; the stars and sun

are as clear and sharply defined when they peep above the distant

treetops as they are at the zenith. This beautiful transparency

of the air arises, doubtless, from the equal distribution through

it of invisible vapour. I shall ever remember, in one of my

voyages along the Para river, the grand spectacle that was once

presented at sunrise. Our vessel was a large schooner, and we

were bounding along before a spanking breeze, which tossed the

waters into foam as the day dawned. So clear was the air, that

the lower rim of the full moon remained sharply defined until it

touched the western horizon, while at the same time, the sun rose

in the east. The two great orbs were visible at the same time,

and the passage from the moonlit night to day was so gentle that

it seemed to be only the brightening of dull weather.

The woods around Baiao were of second growth, the ground having

been formerly cultivated. A great number of coffee and cotton

trees grew amongst the thickets. A fine woodland pathway extends

for miles over the high, undulating bank, leading from one house

to another along the edge of the cliff. I went into several of

them, and talked to their inmates. They were all poor people. The

men were out fishing, some far away, a distance of many days

journey; the women plant mandioca, make the farinha, spin and

weave cotton, manufacture soap of burnt cacao shells and andiroba

oil, and follow various other domestic employments. I asked why

they allowed their plantations to run to waste. They said that it

was useless trying to plant anything hereabout; the Sauba ant

devoured the young coffee trees, and everyone who attempted to

contend against this universal ravager was sure to be defeated.

The country, for many miles along the banks of the river, seemed

to be well peopled. The inhabitants were nearly all of the tawny-

white Mameluco class. I saw a good many mulattos, but very few

negroes and Indians, and none that could be called pure whites.

When Senor Seixas arrived, he acted very kindly. He provided us

at once with two men, killed an ox in our honour, and treated us

altogether with great consideration. We were not, however,

introduced to his family. I caught a glimpse once of his wife, a

pretty little Mameluco woman, as she was tripping with a young

girl, whom I supposed to be her daughter, across the backyard.

Both wore long dressing-gowns made of bright-coloured calico

print, and had long wooden tobacco-pipes in their mouths. The

room in which we slept and worked had formerly served as a

storeroom for cacao, and at night I was kept awake for hours by

rats and cockroaches, which swarm in all such places. The latter

were running about all over the walls; now and then one would

come suddenly with a whirr full at my face, and get under my

shirt if I attempted to jerk it off. As to the rats, they were

chasing one another by the dozens all night long over the floor,

up and down the edges of the doors, and along the rafters of the

open roof.

September 7th.--We started from Baiao at an early hour. One of

our new men was a good-humoured, willing young mulatto named

Jose; the other was a sulky Indian called Manoel, who seemed to

have been pressed into our service against his will. Senor

Seixas, on parting, sent a quantity of fresh provisions on board.

A few miles above Baiao the channel became very shallow; we ran

aground several times, and the men had to disembark and shove the

vessel off. Alexandro shot several fine fish here, with bow and

arrow. It was the first time I had seen fish captured in this

way. The arrow is a reed, with a steel barbed point, which is

fixed in a hole at the end, and secured by fine twine made from

the fibres of pineapple leaves. It is only in the clearest water

that fish can be thus shot--and the only skill required is to

make, in taking aim, the proper allowance for refraction.

The next day before sunrise a fine breeze sprang up, and the men

awoke and set the sails. We glided all day through channels

between islands with long, white, sandy beaches, over which, now

and then, aquatic and wading birds were seen running. The forest

was low, and had a harsh, dry aspect. Several palm trees grew

here which we had not before seen. On low bushes, near the water,

pretty, red-headed tanagers (Tanagra gularis) were numerous,

flitting about and chirping like sparrows. About half-past four

p.m., we brought to at the mouth of a creek or channel, where

there was a great extent of sandy beach. The sand had been blown

by the wind into ridges and undulations, and over the more moist

parts, large flocks of sandpipers were running about. Alexandro

and I had a long ramble over the rolling plain, which came as an

agreeable change after the monotonous forest scenery amid which

we had been so long travelling. He pointed out to me the tracks

of a huge jaguar on the sand. We found here, also, our first

turtle's nest, and obtained 120 eggs from it, which were laid at

a depth of nearly two feet from the surface-- the mother first

excavating a hole and afterwards, covering it up with sand. The

place is discoverable only by following the tracks of the turtle

from the water. I saw here an alligator for the first time, which

reared its head and shoulders above the water just after I had

taken a bath near the spot. The night was calm and cloudless, and

we employed the hours before bedtime in angling by moonlight.

On the 10th, we reached a small settlement called Patos,

consisting of about a dozen houses, and built on a high, rocky

bank, on the eastern shore. The rock is the same nodular

conglomerate which is found at so many places, from the seacoast

to a distance of 600 miles up the Amazons. Mr. Leavens made a

last attempt here to engage men to accompany us to the Araguaya,

but it was in vain; not a soul could be induced by any amount of

wages to go on such an expedition. The reports as to the

existence of cedar were very vague. All said that the tree was

plentiful somewhere, but no one could fix on the precise

locality. I believe that the cedar grows, like all other forest

trees, in a scattered way, and not in masses anywhere. The fact

of its being the principal tree observed floating down with the

current of the Amazons is to be explained by its wood being much

lighter than that of the majority of trees. When the banks are

washed away by currents, trees of all species fall into the

river; but the heavier ones, which are the most numerous, sink,

and the lighter, such as the cedar, alone float down to the sea.

Mr. Leavens was told that there were cedar trees at Trocara, on

the opposite side of the river, near some fine rounded hills

covered with forest, visible from Patos; so there we went. We

found here several families encamped in a delightful spot. The

shore sloped gradually down to the water, and was shaded by a few

wide-spreading trees. There was no underwood. A great number of

hammocks were seen slung between the tree trunks, and the litter

of a numerous household lay scattered about. Women, old and

young, some of the latter very good-looking, and a large number

of children, besides pet animals, enlivened the encampment. They

were all half-breeds, simple, well-disposed people, and explained

to us that they were inhabitants of Cameta, who had come thus

far, eighty miles, to spend the summer months. The only motive

they could give for coming was that: "it was so hot in the town

in the verao (summer), and they were all so fond of fresh fish."

Thus, these simple folks think nothing of leaving home and

business to come on a three months' picnic. It is the annual

custom of this class of people throughout the province to spend a

few months of the fine season in the wilder parts of the country.

They carry with them all the farinha they can scrape together,

this being the only article of food necessary to provide. The men

hunt and fish for the day's wants, and sometimes collect a little

India-rubber, salsaparilla, or copaiba oil, to sell to traders on

their return; the women assist in paddling the canoes, do the

cooking, and sometimes fish with rod and line. The weather is

enjoyable the whole time, and so days and weeks pass happily

away.

One of the men volunteered to walk with us into the forest, and

show us a few cedar trees. We passed through a mile or two of

spiny thickets, and at length came upon the banks of the rivulet

Trocara, which flows over a stony bed, and, about a mile above

its mouth, falls over a ledge of rocks, thus forming a very

pretty cascade. In the neighbourhood, we found a number of

specimens of a curious land-shell, a large flat Helix, with a

labyrinthine mouth (Anastoma). We learned afterwards that it was

a species which had been discovered a few years previously by Dr.

Gardner, the botanist, on the upper part of the Tocantins.

We saw here, for the first time, the splendid Hyacinthine macaw

(Macrocercus hyacinthinus, Lath., the Araruna of the natives),

one of the finest and rarest species of the Parrot family. It

only occurs in the interior of Brazil, from 16' S. lat. to the

southern border of the Amazons valley. It is three feet long from

the beak to the tip of the tail, and is entirely of a soft

hyacinthine blue colour, except round the eyes, where the skin is

naked and white. It flies in pairs, and feeds on the hard nuts of

several palms, but especially of the Mucuja (Acrocomia

lasiospatha). These nuts, which are so hard as to be difficult to

break with a heavy hammer, are crushed to a pulp by the powerful

beak of this macaw.

Mr. Leavens was thoroughly disgusted with the people of Patos.

Two men had come from below with the intention, I believe, of

engaging with us, but they now declined. The inspector,

constable, or governor of the place appeared to be a very

slippery customer, and I fancy discouraged the men from going,

whilst making a great show of forwarding our views. These

outlying settlements are the resort of a number of idle,

worthless characters. There was a kind of festival going on, and

the people fuddled themselves with cashiri, an intoxicating drink

invented by the Indians. It is made by soaking mandioca cakes in

water until fermentation takes place, and tastes like new beer.

Being unable to obtain men, Mr. Leavens now gave up his project

of ascending the river as far as the Araguaya. He assented to our

request, however, to ascend to the cataracts near Arroyos. We

started, therefore, from Patos with a more definite aim before us

than we had hitherto. The river became more picturesque as we

advanced. The water was very low, it being now the height of the

dry reason; the islands were smaller than those further down, and

some of them were high and rocky. Bold wooded bluffs projected

into the stream, and all the shores were fringed with beaches of

glistening white sand. On one side of the river there was an

extensive grassy plain or campo with isolated patches of trees

scattered over it. On the 14th and following day we stopped

several times to ramble ashore. Our longest excursion was to a

large shallow lagoon, choked up with aquatic plants, which lay

about two miles across the campo. At a place called Juquerapua,

we engaged a pilot to conduct us to Arroyos, and a few miles

above the pilot's house, arrived at a point where it was not

possible to advance further in our large canoe on account of the

rapids.

September 16th.--Embarked at six a.m. in a large montaria which

had been lent to us for this part of our voyage by Senor Seixas,

leaving the vigilinga anchored close to a rocky islet, named

Santa Anna, to await our return. Isidoro was left in charge, and

we were sorry to be obliged to leave behind also our mulatto

Jose, who had fallen ill since leaving Baiao. We had then

remaining only Alexandro, Manoel, and the pilot, a sturdy Tapuyo

named Joaquim-- scarcely a sufficient crew to paddle against the

strong currents.

At ten a.m. we arrived at the first rapids, which are called

Tapaiunaquara. The river, which was here about a mile wide, was

choked up with rocks, a broken ridge passing completely across

it. Between these confused piles of stone the currents were

fearfully strong, and formed numerous eddies and whirlpools. We

were obliged to get out occasionally and walk from rock to rock,

whilst the men dragged the canoe over the obstacles. Beyond

Tapaiunaquara, the stream became again broad and deep, and the

river scenery was beautiful in the extreme. The water was clear

and of a bluish-green colour. On both sides of the stream

stretched ranges of wooded hills, and in the middle picturesque

islets rested on the smooth water, whose brilliant green woods

fringed with palms formed charming bits of foreground to the

perspective of sombre hills fading into grey in the distance.

Joaquim pointed out to us grove after grove of Brazil nut trees

(Bertholletia excelsa) on the mainland. This is one of the chief

collecting grounds for this nut. The tree is one of the loftiest

in the forest, towering far above its fellows; we could see the

woody fruits, large and round as cannon-balls, dotted over the

branches. The currents were very strong in some places, so that

during the greater part of the way the men preferred to travel

near the shore, and propel the boat by means of long poles.

We arrived at Arroyos about four o'clock in the afternoon, after

ten hours' hard pull. The place consists simply of a few houses

built on a high bank, and forms a station where canoemen from the

mining countries of the interior of Brazil stop to rest

themselves before or after surmounting the dreaded falls and

rapids of Guaribas, situated a couple of miles further up. We

dined ashore, and in the evening again embarked to visit the

falls. The vigorous and successful way in which our men battled

with the terrific currents excited our astonishment. The bed of

the river, here about a mile wide, is strewn with blocks of

various sizes, which lie in the most irregular manner, and

between them rush currents of more or less rapidity. With an

accurate knowledge of the place and skillful management, the

falls can be approached in small canoes by threading the less

dangerous channels. The main fall is about a quarter of a mile

wide; we climbed to an elevation overlooking it, and had a good

view of the cataract. A body of water rushes with terrific force

down a steep slope, and boils up with deafening roar around the

boulders which obstruct its course. The wildness of the whole

scene was very impressive. As far as the eye could see, stretched

range after range of wooded hills and scores of miles of

beautiful wilderness, inhabited only by scanty tribes of wild

Indians. In the midst of such a solitude, the roar of the

cataract seemed fitting music.

September 17th.--We commenced early in the morning our downward

voyage. Arroyos is situated in about 4 10' S. lat.; and lies,

therefore, about 130 miles from the mouth of the Tocantins.

Fifteen miles above Guaribas, another similar cataract called

Tabocas lies across the river. We were told that there were in

all fifteen of these obstructions to navigate, between Arroyos

and the mouth of the Araguaya. The worst was the Inferno, the

Guaribas standing second to it in evil reputation. Many canoes

and lives have been lost here, most of the accidents arising

through the vessels being hurled against an enormous cubical mass

of rock called the Guaribinha, which we, on our trip to the falls

in the small canoe, passed round with the greatest ease about a

quarter of a mile below the main falls. This, however, was the

dry season; in the time of full waters, a tremendous current sets

against it. We descended the river rapidly, and found it

excellent fun shooting the rapids. The men seemed to delight in

choosing the swiftest parts of the current; they sang and yelled

in the greatest excitement, working the paddles with great force,

and throwing clouds of spray above us as we bounded downwards. We

stopped to rest at the mouth of a rivulet named Caganxa. The

pilot told us that gold had been found in the bed of this brook;

so we had the curiosity to wade several hundred yards through the

icy cold waters in search of it. Mr. Leavens seemed very much

interested in the matter. He picked up all the shining stones he

could espy in the pebbly bottom, in hopes of finding diamonds

also. There is, in fact, no reason why both gold and diamonds

should not be found here, the hills being a continuation of those

of the mining countries of interior Brazil, and the brooks

flowing through the narrow valleys between them.

On arriving at the place where we had left our canoe, we found

poor Jose the mulatto much worse, so we hastened on to Juquerapua

to procure aid. An old half-caste woman took charge of him; she

made poultices of the pulp of a wild fruit, administered cooling

draughts made from herbs which grew near the house, and in fact,

acted the part of nurse admirably. We stayed at this place all

night and part of the following day, and I had a stroll along a

delightful pathway, which led over hill and dale, two or three

miles through the forest. I was surprised at the number and

variety of brilliantly-coloured butterflies; they were all of

small size and started forth from the low bushes, which bordered

the road, at every step I took. I first heard here the notes of a

trogon; it was seated alone on a branch, at no great elevation; a

beautiful bird, with glossy-green back and rose-coloured breast

(probably Trogon melanurus). At intervals it uttered, in a

complaining tone, a sound resembling the words "qua, qua." It is

a dull inactive bird, and not very ready to take flight when

approached. In this respect, however, the trogons are not equal

to the jacamars, whose stupidity in remaining at their posts,

seated on low branches in the gloomiest shades of the forest, is

somewhat remarkable in a country where all other birds are

exceedingly wary. One species of jacamar was not uncommon here

(Galbula viridis); I sometimes saw two or three together seated

on a slender branch, silent and motionless with the exception of

a slight movement of the head; when an insect flew past within a

short distance, one of the birds would dart off, seize it, and

return again to its sitting-place. The trogons are found in the

tropics of both hemispheres. The jacamars, which are clothed in

plumage of the most beautiful golden-bronze and steel colours,

are peculiar to tropical America.

At night I slept ashore as a change from the confinement of the

canoe, having obtained permission from Senor Joaquim to sling my

hammock under his roof. The house, like all others in these out-

of-the-way parts of the country, was a large open, palm-thatched

shed, having one end enclosed by means of partitions also made of

palm-leaves, so as to form a private apartment. Under the shed

were placed all the household utensils-- earthenware jars, pots,

and kettles, hunting and fishing implements, paddles, bows and

arrows, harpoons, and so forth. One or two common wooden chests

serve to contain the holiday clothing of the females. There is no

other furniture except a few stools and the hammock, which

answers the purposes of chair and sofa. When a visitor enters, he

is asked to sit down in a hammock; persons who are on intimate

terms with each other recline together in the same hammock, one

at each end. This is a very convenient arrangement for friendly

conversation. There are neither tables nor chairs; the cloth for

meals is spread on a mat, and the guests squat round in any

position they choose. There is no cordiality of manners, but the

treatment of the guests shows a keen sense of the duties of

hospitality on the part of the host. There is a good deal of

formality in the intercourse of these half-wild mamelucos, which,

I believe, has been chiefly derived from their Indian

forefathers, although a little of it may have been copied from

the Portuguese.

A little distance from the house were the open sheds under which

the farinha for the use of the establishment was manufactured. In

the centre of each shed stood the shallow pans, made of clay and

built over ovens, where the meal is roasted. A long flexible

cylinder made of the peel of a marantaceous plant, plaited into

the proper form, hung suspended from a beam; it is in this that

the pulp of the mandioca is pressed, and from it the juice, which

is of a highly poisonous nature, although the pulp is wholesome

food, runs into pans placed beneath to receive it. A wooden

trough, such as is used in all these places for receiving the

pulp before the poisonous matter is extracted, stood on the

ground, and from the posts hung the long wicker-work baskets, or

aturas, in which the women carry the roots from the roca or

clearing; a broad ribbon made from the inner bark of the monguba

tree is attached to the rims of the baskets, and is passed round

the forehead of the carriers, to relieve their backs in

supporting the heavy load. Around the shed were planted a number

of banana and other fruit trees; among them were the never-

failing capsicum-pepper bushes, brilliant as holly-trees at

Christmas time with their fiery-red fruit, and lemon trees; the

one supplying the pungent, the other the acid, for sauce to the

perpetual meal of fish. There is never in such places any

appearance of careful cultivation-- no garden or orchard. The

useful trees are surrounded by weeds and bushes, and close behind

rises the everlasting forest.

There were other strangers under Senor Joaquim's roof besides

myself--mulattos, mamelucos, and Indian,--so we formed altogether

a large party. Houses occur at rare intervals in this wild

country, and hospitality is freely given to the few passing

travellers. After a frugal supper, a large wood fire was lighted

in the middle of the shed, and all turned in to their hammocks,

and began to converse. A few of the party soon dropped asleep;

others, however, kept awake until a very late hour telling

stories. Some related adventures which had happened to them while

hunting or fishing; others recounted myths about the Curupira,

and other demons or spirits of the forest. They were all very

appropriate to the time and place, for now and then a yell or a

shriek resounded through the gloomy wilderness around the shed.

One old parchment-faced fellow, with a skin the colour of

mahogany, seemed to be a capital story-teller; but I was sorry I

did not know enough of the language to follow him in all the

details which he gave. Amongst other things, he related an

adventure he had once had with a jaguar. He got up from his

hammock in the course of the narrative to give it the greater

effect by means of gestures; he seized a bow and a large taquara

arrow to show how he slew the beast, imitated its hoarse growl,

and danced about the fire like a demon.

In descending the river we landed frequently, and Mr. Wallace and

I lost no chance of adding to our collections, so that before the

end of our journey, we had got together a very considerable

number of birds, insects, and shells, chiefly taken, however, in

the low country. Leaving Baiao, we took our last farewell of the

limpid waters and varied scenery of the upper river, and found

ourselves again in the humid flat region of the Amazons valley.

We sailed down this lower part of the river by a different

channel from the one we travelled along in ascending, and

frequently went ashore on the low islands in mid-river. As

already stated, these are covered with water in the wet season;

but at this time, there having been three months of fine weather,

they were dry throughout, and by the subsidence of the waters,

placed four or five feet above the level of the river. They are

covered with a most luxuriant forest, comprising a large number

of india-rubber trees. We found several people encamped here, who

were engaged in collecting and preparing the rubber, and thus had

an opportunity of observing the process.

The tree which yields this valuable sap is the Siphonia elastica,

a member of the Euphorbiaceous order; it belongs, therefore, to a

group of plants quite different from that which furnishes the

caoutchouc of the East Indies and Africa. This latter is the

product of different species of Ficus, and is considered, I

believe, in commerce, an inferior article to the India-rubber of

Para. The Siphonia elastica grows only on the lowlands in the

Amazons region; hitherto, the rubber has been collected chiefly

in the islands and swampy parts of the mainland within a distance

of fifty to a hundred miles to the west of Para; but there are

plenty of untapped trees still growing in the wilds of the

Tapajos, Madeira, Jurua, and Jauari, as far as 1800 miles from

the Atlantic coast. The tree is not remarkable in appearance; in

bark and foliage it is not unlike the European ash. But the

trunk, like that of all forest trees, shoots up to an immense

height before throwing off branches. The trees seem to be no

man's property hereabout. The people we met with told us they

came every year to collect rubber on these islands as soon as the

waters had subsided, namely in August, and remained until January

or February.

The process is very simple. Every morning each person, man or

woman, to whom is allotted a certain number of trees, goes the

round of the whole and collects in a large vessel the milky sap

which trickles from gashes made in the bark on the preceding

evening, and which is received in little clay cups, or in

ampullaria shells stuck beneath the wounds. The sap, which at

first is of the consistence of cream, soon thickens; the

collectors are provided with a great number of wooden moulds of

the shape in which the rubber is wanted, and when they return to

the camp, they dip them into the liquid, laying on, in the course

of several days, one coat after another. When this is done, the

substance is white and hard; the proper colour and consistency

are given by passing it repeatedly through a thick black smoke

obtained by burning the nuts of certain palm trees, after which

process the article is ready for sale.

India-rubber is known throughout the province only by the name of

seringa, the Portuguese word for syringe; it owes this

appellation to the circumstance that it was only in this form

that the first Portuguese settlers noticed it to be employed by

the aborigines. It is said that the Indians were first taught to

make syringes of rubber by seeing natural tubes formed by it when

the spontaneously-flowing sap gathered round projecting twigs.

Brazilians of all classes still use it extensively in the form of

syringes, for injections form a great feature in the popular

system of cures; the rubber for this purpose is made into a pear-

shaped bottle, and a quill fixed in the long neck.

September 24th.--Opposite Cameta, the islands are all planted

with cacao, the tree which yields the chocolate nut. The forest

is not cleared for the purpose, but the cacao plants are stuck in

here and there almost at random amongst the trees. There are many

houses on the banks of the river, all elevated above the swampy

soil on wooden piles, and furnished with broad ladders by which

to mount to the ground floor. As we passed by in our canoe, we

could see the people at their occupations in the open verandas,

and in one place saw a ball going on in broad daylight; there

were fiddles and guitars hard at work, and a number of lads in

white shirts and trousers dancing with brown damsels clad in

showy print dresses. The cacao tree produces a curious impression

on account of the flowers and fruit growing directly out of the

trunk and branches. There is a whole group of wild fruit trees

which have the same habit in this country. In the wildernesses

where the cacao is planted, the collecting of the fruit is

dangerous due to the number of poisonous snakes which inhabit the

places. One day, when we were running our montaria to a landing-

place, we saw a large serpent on the trees overhead as we were

about to brush past; the boat was stopped just in the nick of

time, and Mr. Leavens brought the reptile down with a charge of

shot.

September 26th.--At length we got clear of the islands, and saw

once more before us the sea-like expanse of waters which forms

the mouth of the Tocantins. The river had now sunk to its lowest

point, and numbers of fresh-water dolphins were rolling about in

shoaly places. There are here two species, one of which was new

to science when I sent specimens to England; it is called the

Tucuxi (Steno tucuxi of Gray). When it comes to the surface to

breathe, it rises horizontally, showing first its back fin, then

draws an inspiration, and dives gently down, head foremost. This

mode of proceeding distinguishes the Tucuxi at once from the

other species, which is called Bouto or porpoise by the natives

(Inia Geoffroyi of Desmarest). When this rises the top of the

head is the part first seen; it then blows, and immediately

afterwards dips head downwards, its back curving over, exposing

successively the whole dorsal ridge with its fin. It seems thus

to pitch heels over head, but does not show the tail fin. Besides

this peculiar motion, it is distinguished from the Tucuxi by its

habit of generally going in pairs. Both species are exceedingly

numerous throughout the Amazons and its larger tributaries, but

they are nowhere more plentiful than in the shoaly water at the

mouth of the Tocantins, especially in the dry season. In the

Upper Amazons a third pale flesh-coloured species is also

abundant (the Delphinus pallidus of Gervais). With the exception

of a species found in the Ganges, all other varieties of dolphin

inhabit the sea exclusively. In the broader parts of the Amazons,

from its mouth to a distance of fifteen hundred miles in the

interior, one or other of the three kinds here mentioned are

always heard rolling, blowing, and snorting, especially at night,

and these noises contribute much to the impression of sea-wide

vastness and desolation which haunts the traveller. Besides

dolphins in the water, frigate birds in the air are

characteristic of this lower part of the Tocantins. Flocks of

them were seen the last two or three days of our journey,

hovering above at an immense height. Towards night, we were

obliged to cast anchor over a shoal in the middle of the river to

await the ebb tide. The wind blew very strongly, and this,

together with the incoming flow, caused such a heavy sea that it

was impossible to sleep. The vessel rolled and pitched until

every bone in our bodies ached with the bumps we received, and we

were all more or less seasick. On the following day we entered

the Anapu, and on the 30th September, after threading again the

labyrinth of channels communicating between the Tocantins and the

Moju, arrived at Para.

I will now give a short account of Cameta, the principal town on

the banks of the Tocantins, which I visited for the second time,

in June,1849. Mr. Wallace, in the same month, departed from Para

to explore the rivers Guama and Capim. I embarked as passenger in

a Cameta trading vessel, the St. John, a small schooner of thirty

tons burthen. I had learnt by this time that the only way to

attain the objects for which I had come to this country was to

accustom myself to the ways of life of the humbler classes of the

inhabitants. A traveller on the Amazons gains little by being

furnished with letters of recommendation to persons of note, for

in the great interior wildernesses of forest and river the

canoemen have pretty much their own way; the authorities cannot

force them to grant passages or to hire themselves to travellers,

and therefore, a stranger is obliged to ingratiate himself with

them in order to get conveyed from place to place. I thoroughly

enjoyed the journey to Cameta; the weather was again beautiful in

the extreme. We started from Para at sunrise on the 8th of June,

and on the 10th emerged from the narrow channels of the Anapu

into the broad Tocantins. The vessel was so full of cargo that

there was no room to sleep in the cabin; so we passed the nights

on deck. The captain or supercargo, called in Portuguese cabo,

was a mameluco, named Manoel, a quiet, good-humoured person, who

treated me with the most unaffected civility during the three

days' journey. The pilot was also a mameluco, named John Mendez,

a handsome young fellow, full of life and spirit. He had on board

a wire guitar or viola, as it is here called; and in the bright

moonlight nights, as we lay at anchor hour after hour waiting for

the tide, he enlivened us all with songs and music. He was on the

best of terms with the cabo, both sleeping in the same hammock

slung between the masts. I passed the nights wrapped in an old

sail outside the roof of the cabin. The crew, five in number,

were Indians and half-breeds, all of whom treated their two

superiors with the most amusing familiarity, yet I never sailed

in a better managed vessel than the St. John.

In crossing to Cameta we had to await the flood-tide in a channel

called Entre-as-Ilhas, which lies between two islands in mid-

river, and John Mendez, being in good tune, gave us an extempore

song, consisting of a great number of verses. The crew lay about

the deck listening, and all joined in the chorus. Some stanzas

related to me, telling how I had come all the way from

"Inglaterra," to skin monkeys and birds and catch insects; the

last-mentioned employment of course giving ample scope for fun.

He passed from this to the subject of political parties in

Cameta; and then, as all the hearers were Cametaenses and

understood the hits, there were roars of laughter, some of them

rolling over and over on the deck, so much were they tickled.

Party spirit runs high at Cameta, not merely in connection with

local politics, but in relation to affairs of general concern,

such as the election of members to the Imperial Parliament, and

so forth. This political strife is partly attributable to the

circumstance that a native of Cameta, Dr. Angelo Custodio

Correia, had been in almost every election, one of the candidates

for the representation of the province. I fancied these shrewd

but unsophisticated canoe-men saw through the absurdities

attending these local contests, and hence their inclination to

satirise them; they were, however, evidently partisans of Dr.

Angelo. The brother of Dr. Angelo, Joao Augusto Correia, a

distinguished merchant, was an active canvasser. The party of the

Correias was the Liberal, or, as it is called throughout Brazil,

the Santa Luzia faction; the opposite side, at the head of which

was one Pedro Moraes, was the Conservative, or Saquarema party. I

preserved one of the stanzas of the song, which, however, does

not contain much point; it ran thus:

Ora pana, tana pana!, pana tana, Joao Augusto he bonito e homem

pimpao, Mas Pedro he feio e hum grande ladrao, (Chorus) Ora pana,

etc.

John Augustus is handsome and as a man ought to be, But Peter is

ugly and a great thief. (Chorus) Ora pana, etc.

The canoe-men of the Amazons have many songs and choruses, with

which they are in the habit of relieving the monotony of their

slow voyages, and which are known all over the interior. The

choruses consist of a simple strain, repeated almost to

weariness, and sung generally in unison, but sometimes with an

attempt at harmony. There is a wildness and sadness about the

tunes which harmonise well with, and in fact are born of, the

circumstances of the canoe-man's life: the echoing channels, the

endless gloomy forests, the solemn nights, and the desolate

scenes of broad and stormy waters and falling banks. Whether they

were invented by the Indians or introduced by the Portuguese it

is hard to decide, as many of the customs of the lower classes of

Portuguese are so similar to those of the Indians that they have

become blended with them. One of the commonest songs is very wild

and pretty. It has for refrain the words "Mai, Mai" ("Mother,

Mother"), with a long drawl on the second word. The stanzas are

quite variable; the best wit on board starts the verse,

improvising as he goes on, and the others join in the chorus.

They all relate to the lonely river life and the events of the

voyage-- the shoals, the wind, how far they shall go before they

stop to sleep, and so forth. The sonorous native names of places,

Goajara, Tucumanduba, etc., add greatly to the charm of the wild

music. Sometimes they bring in the stars thus:

A lua esta sahindo, Mai, Mai! A lua esta sahindo, Mai, Mai! As

sete estrellas estao chorando, Mai, Mai! Por s'acharem

desamparados, Mai, Mai!

The moon is rising, Mother, Mother! The moon is rising, Mother,

Mother! The seven stars (Pleiades) are weeping, Mother, Mother!

To find themselves forsaken, Mother, mother!

I fell asleep about ten o'clock, but at four in the morning John

Mendez woke me to enjoy the sight of the little schooner tearing

through the waves before a spanking breeze. The night was

transparently clear and almost cold, the moon appeared sharply

defined against the dark blue sky, and a ridge of foam marked

where the prow of the vessel was cleaving its way through the

water. The men had made a fire in the galley to make tea of an

acid herb, called erva cidreira, a quantity of which they had

gathered at the last landing-place, and the flames sparkled

cheerily upwards. It is at such times as these that Amazon

travelling is enjoyable, and one no longer wonders at the love

which many, both natives and strangers, have for this wandering

life. The little schooner sped rapidly on with booms bent and

sails stretched to the utmost; just as day dawned, we ran with

scarcely slackened speed into the port of Cameta, and cast

anchor.

I stayed at Cameta until the 16th of July, and made a

considerable collection of the natural productions of the

neighbourhood. The town in 1849 was estimated to contain about

5000 inhabitants, but the municipal district of which Cameta is

the capital numbered 20,000; this, however, comprised the whole

of the lower part of the Tocantins, which is the most thickly

populated part of the province of Para. The productions of the

district are cacao, india-rubber, and Brazil nuts. The most

remarkable feature in the social aspect of the place is the

hybrid nature of the whole population, the amalgamation of the

white and Indian races being here complete. The aborigines were

originally very numerous on the western bank of the Tocantins,

the principal tribe having been the Camutas, from which the city

takes its name. They were a superior nation, settled, and

attached to agriculture, and received with open arms the white

immigrants who were attracted to the district by its fertility,

natural beauty, and the healthfulness of the climate. The

Portuguese settlers were nearly all males, the Indian women were

good-looking, and made excellent wives; so the natural result has

been, in the course of two centuries, a complete blending of the

two races. There is now, however, a considerable infusion of

negro blood in the mixture, several hundred African slaves having

been introduced during the last seventy years. The few whites are

chiefly Portuguese, but there are also two or three Brazilian

families of pure European descent. The town consists of three

long streets, running parallel to the river, with a few shorter

ones crossing them at right angles. The houses are very plain,

being built, as usual in this country, simply of a strong

framework, filled up with mud, and coated with white plaster. A

few of them are of two or three stories. There are three

churches, and also a small theatre, where a company of native

actors at the time of my visit were representing light Portuguese

plays with considerable taste and ability. The people have a

reputation all over the province for energy and perseverance; and

it is often said that they are as keen in trade as the

Portuguese. The lower classes are as indolent and sensual here as

in other parts of the province, a moral condition not to be

wondered at in a country where perpetual summer reigns, and where

the necessities of life are so easily obtained. But they are

light-hearted, quick-witted, communicative, and hospitable. I

found here a native poet, who had written some pretty verses,

showing an appreciation of the natural beauties of the country,

and was told that the Archbishop of Bahia, the primate of Brazil,

was a native of Cameta. It is interesting to find the mamelucos

displaying talent and enterprise, for it shows that degeneracy

does not necessarily result from the mixture of white and Indian

blood. The Cametaenses boast, as they have a right to do, of

theirs being the only large town which resisted successfully the

anarchists in the great rebellion of 1835-6. While the whites of

Para were submitting to the rule of half-savage revolutionists,

the mamelucos of Cameta placed themselves under the leadership of

a courageous priest, named Prudencio. They armed themselves,

fortified the place, and repulsed the large forces which the

insurgents of Para sent to attack the place. The town not only

became the refuge for all loyal subjects, but was a centre whence

large parties of volunteers sallied forth repeatedly to attack

the anarchists in their various strongholds.

The forest behind Cameta is traversed by several broad roads,

which lead over undulating ground many miles into the interior.

They pass generally under shade, and part of the way through

groves of coffee and orange trees, fragrant plantations of cacao,

and tracts of second-growth woods. The narrow brook-watered

valleys, with which the land is intersected, alone have remained

clothed with primaeval forest, at least near the town. The houses

along these beautiful roads belong chiefly to Mameluco, mulatto,

and Indian families, each of which has its own small plantation.

There are only a few planters with larger establishments, and

these have seldom more than a dozen slaves. Besides the main

roads, there are endless bypaths which thread the forest and

communicate with isolated houses. Along these the traveller may

wander day after day without leaving the shade, and everywhere

meet with cheerful, simple, and hospitable people.

Soon after landing, I was introduced to the most distinguished

citizen of the place, Dr. Angelo Custodio Correia, whom I have

already mentioned. This excellent man was a favourable specimen

of the highest class of native Brazilians. He had been educated

in Europe, was now a member of the Brazilian Parliament, and had

been twice president of his native province.His manners were less

formal, and his goodness more thoroughly genuine, perhaps, than

is the rule generally with Brazilians. He was admired and loved,

as I had ample opportunity of observing, throughout all Amazonia.

He sacrificed his life in 1855, for the good of his fellow-

townsmen, when Cameta was devastated by the cholera; having

stayed behind with a few heroic spirits to succour invalids and

direct the burying of the dead, when nearly all the chief

citizens had fled from the place. After he had done what he

could, he embarked for Para but was himself then attacked with

cholera, and died on board the steamer before he reached the

capital. Dr. Angelo received me with the usual kindness which he

showed to all strangers. He procured me, unsolicited, a charming

country house, free of rent, hired a mulatto servant for me, and

thus relieved me of the many annoyances and delays attendant on a

first arrival in a country town where even the name of an inn is

unknown. The rocinha, thus given up for my residence, belonged to

a friend of his, Senor Jose Raimundo Furtado, a stout florid-

complexioned gentleman, such a one as might be met with any day

in a country town in England. To him also I was indebted for many

acts of kindness.

The rocinha was situated near a broad grassy road bordered by

lofty woods, which leads from Cameta to the Aldeia, a village two

miles distant. My first walks were along this road. From it

branches another similar but still more picturesque road, which

runs to Curima and Pacaja, two small settlements, several miles

distant, in the heart of the forest. The Curima road is beautiful

in the extreme. About half a mile from the house where I lived,

it crosses a brook flowing through a deep dell by means of a long

rustic wooden bridge. The virgin forest is here left untouched;

numerous groups of slender palms, mingled with lofty trees

overrun with creepers and parasites, fill the shady glen and arch

over the bridge, forming one of the most picturesque scenes

imaginable. A little beyond the bridge there was an extensive

grove of orange and other trees, which yielded me a rich harvest.

The Aldeia road runs parallel to the river, the land from the

border of the road to the indented shore of the Tocantins forming

a long slope which was also richly wooded; this slope was

threaded by numerous shady paths, and abounded in beautiful

insects and birds. At the opposite or southern end of the town,

there was a broad road called the Estrada da Vacaria-- this ran

along the banks of the Tocantins at some distance from the river,

and continued over hill and dale, through bamboo thickets and

palm swamps, for about fifteen miles.

At Cameta I chanced to verify a fact relating to the habits of a

large hairy spider of the genus Mygale, in a manner worth

recording. The species was M. avicularia, or one very closely

allied to it; the individual was nearly two inches in length of

body, but the legs expanded seven inches, and the entire body and

legs were covered with coarse grey and reddish hairs. I was

attracted by a movement of the monster on a tree-trunk; it was

close beneath a deep crevice in the tree, across which was

stretched a dense white web. The lower part of the web was

broken, and two small birds, finches, were entangled in the

pieces; they were about the size of the English siskin, and I

judged the two to be male and female. One of them was quite dead,

the other lay under the body of the spider, not quite dead, and

was smeared with the filthy liquor or saliva exuded by the

monster. I drove away the spider and took the birds, but the

second one soon died. The fact of species of Mygale sallying

forth at night, mounting trees, and sucking the eggs and young of

hummingbirds, has been recorded long ago by Madame Merian and

Palisot de Beauvois; but, in the absence of any confirmation, it

has come to be discredited. From the way the fact has been

related, it would appear that it had been merely derived from the

report of natives, and had not been witnessed by the narrators.

Count Langsdorff, in his Expedition into the Interior of Brazil,

states that he totally disbelieved the story. I found the

circumstance to be quite a novelty to the residents hereabout.

The Mygales are quite common insects: some species make their

cells under stones, others form artistical tunnels in the earth,

and some build their dens in the thatch of houses. The natives

call them Aranhas carangueijeiras, or crab-spiders. The hairs

with which they are clothed come off when touched, and cause a

peculiar and almost maddening irritation. The first specimen that

I killed and prepared was handled incautiously, and I suffered

terribly for three days afterwards. I think this is not owing to

any poisonous quality residing in the hairs, but to their being

short and hard, and thus getting into the fine creases of the

skin. Some Mygales are of immense size. One day I saw the

children belonging to an Indian family, who collected for me with

one of these monsters secured by a cord round its waist, by which

they were leading it about the house as they would a dog.

The only monkeys I observed at Cameta were the Couxio (Pithecia

Satanas)--a large species, clothed with long brownish-black hair-

-and the tiny Midas argentatus. The Couxio has a thick bushy

tail, and the hair of the head, which looks as if it had been

carefully combed, sits on it like a wig. It inhabits only the

most retired parts of the forest, on the terra firma, and I

observed nothing of its habits. The little Midas argentatus is

one of the rarest of the American monkeys; indeed, I have not

heard of its being found anywhere except near Cameta, where I

once saw three individuals, looking like so many white kittens,

running along a branch in a cacao grove; in their motions, they

resembled precisely the Midas ursulus already described. I saw

afterwards a pet animal of this species, and heard that there

were many so kept, and that they were esteemed as great

treasures. The one mentioned was full-grown, although it measured

only seven inches in length of body. It was covered with long,

white, silky hairs, the tail being blackish, and the face nearly

naked and flesh-coloured. It was a most timid and sensitive

little thing. The woman who owned it carried it constantly in her

bosom, and no money would induce her to part with her pet. She

called it Mico. It fed from her mouth and allowed her to fondle

it freely, but the nervous little creature would not permit

strangers to touch it. If any one attempted to do so, it shrank

back, the whole body trembling with fear, and its teeth chattered

while it uttered its tremulous, frightened tones. The expression

of its features was like that of its more robust brother, Midas

ursulus; the eyes, which were black, were full of curiosity and

mistrust, and were always kept fixed upon the person who

attempted to advance towards it.

In the orange groves and other parts, hummingbirds were

plentiful, but I did not notice more than three species. I saw

one day a little pigmy belonging to the genus Phaethornis in the

act of washing itself in a brook; perched on a thin branch, one

end of which was under water. It dipped itself, then fluttered

its wings and pruned its feathers, and seemed thoroughly to enjoy

itself alone in the shady nook which it had chosen--a place

overshadowed by broad leaves of ferns and Heliconiae. I thought,

as I watched it, that there was no need for poets to invent elves

and gnomes while Nature furnishes us with such marvellous little

sprites ready at hand.

My return journey to Para afforded many incidents characteristic

of Amazonian travelling. I left Cameta on the 16th of July. My

luggage was embarked in the morning in the Santa Rosa, a vessel

of the kind called cuberta, or covered canoe. The cuberta is very

much used on these rivers. It is not decked, but the sides

forward are raised and arched over so as to admit of cargo being

piled high above the water-line. At the stern is a neat square

cabin, also raised, and between the cabin and covered forepart is

a narrow piece decked over, on which are placed the cooking

arrangements. This is called the tombadilha or quarterdeck, and

when the canoe is heavily laden, it goes underwater as the vessel

heels over to the wind. There are two masts, rigged with fore and

aft sails--the foremast has often besides a main and top sail.

The forepart is planked over at the top, and on this raised deck

the crew work the vessel, pulling it along, when there is no

wind, by means of the long oars already described.

As I have just said, my luggage was embarked in the morning. I

was informed that we should start with the ebb-tide in the

afternoon; so I thought I should have time to pay my respects to

Dr. Angelo and other friends, whose extreme courtesy and goodness

had made my residence at Cameta so agreeable. After dinner the

guests, according to custom at the house of the Correias, walked

into the cool verandah which overlooks the river; and there we

saw the Santa Rosa, a mere speck in the offing miles away,

tacking down river with a fine breeze. I was now in a fix, for it

would be useless attempting to overtake the cuberta, and besides

the sea ran too high for any montaria. I was then told that I

ought to have been aboard hours before the time fixed for

starting, because when a breeze springs up, vessels start before

the tide turns; the last hour of the flood not being very strong.

All my precious collections, my clothes, and other necessaries

were on board, and it was indispensable that I should be at Para

when the things were disembarked. I tried to hire a montaria and

men, but was told that it would be madness to cross the river in

a small boat with this breeze. On going to Senor Laroque, another

of my Cameta friends, I was relieved of my embarrassment, for I

found there an English gentleman, Mr. Patchett of Pernambuco, who

was visiting Para and its neighbourhood on his way to England,

and who, as he was going back to Para in a small boat with four

paddles, which would start at midnight, kindly offered me a

passage.

The evening from seven to ten o'clock was very stormy. About

seven, the night became intensely dark, and a terrific squall of

wind burst forth, which made the loose tiles fly over the

housetops; to this succeeded lightning and stupendous claps of

thunder, both nearly simultaneous. We had had several of these

short and sharp storms during the past month. At midnight, when

we embarked, all was as calm as though a ruffle had never

disturbed air, forest, or river. The boat sped along like an

arrow to the rhythmic paddling of the four stout youths we had

with us, who enlivened the passage with their wild songs. Mr.

Patchett and I tried to get a little sleep, but the cabin was so

small and encumbered with boxes placed at all sorts of angles,

that we found sleep impossible. I was just dozing when the day

dawned, and, on awakening, the first object I saw was the Santa

Rosa, at anchor under a green island in mid-river. I preferred to

make the remainder of the voyage in company of my collections, so

bade Mr. Patchett good-day. The owner of the Santa Rosa, Senor

Jacinto Machado, whom I had not seen before, received me aboard,

and apologised for having started without me. He was a white man,

a planter, and was now taking his year's production of cacao,

about twenty tons, to Para. The canoe was very heavily laden, and

I was rather alarmed to see that it was leaking at all points.

The crew were all in the water diving about to feel for the

holes, which they stopped with pieces of ray and clay, and an old

negro was baling the water out of the hold. This was a pleasant

prospect for a three-day voyage! Senor Machado treated it as the

most ordinary incident possible: "It was always likely to leak,

for it was an old vessel that had been left as worthless high and

dry on the beach, and he had bought it very cheap."

When the leaks were stopped, we proceeded on our journey and at

night reached the mouth of the Anapu. I wrapped myself in an old

sail, and fell asleep on the raised deck. The next day, we

threaded the Igarape-mirim, and on the 19th descended the Moju.

Senor Machado and I by this time had become very good friends. At

every interesting spot on the banks of the Moju, he manned the

small boat and took me ashore. There are many large houses on

this river belonging to what were formerly large and flourishing

plantations, but which, since the Revolution of 1835-6, had been

suffered to go to decay. Two of the largest buildings were

constructed by the Jesuits in the early part of the last century.

We were told that there were formerly eleven large sugar mills on

the banks of the Moju, while now there are only three.

At Burujuba, there is a large monastery in a state of ruin; part

of the edifice, however, was still inhabited by a Brazilian

family. The walls are four feet in thickness. The long dark

corridors and gloomy cloisters struck me as very inappropriate in

the midst of this young and radiant nature. They would be better

if placed on some barren moor in Northern Europe than here in the

midst of perpetual summer. The next turn in the river below

Burujuba brought the city of Para into view. The wind was now

against us, and we were obliged to tack about. Towards evening,

it began to blow stiffly, the vessel heeled over very much, and

Senor Machado, for the first time, trembled for the safety of his

cargo; the leaks burst out afresh when we were yet two miles from

the shore. He ordered another sail to be hoisted in order to run

more quickly into port, but soon afterwards an extra puff of wind

came, and the old boat lurched alarmingly, the rigging gave way,

and down fell boom and sail with a crash, encumbering us with the

wreck. We were then obliged to have recourse to oars; and as soon

as we were near the land, fearing that the crazy vessel would

sink before reaching port, I begged Senor Machado to send me

ashore in the boat with the more precious portion of my

collections.

CHAPTER V

CARIPI AND THE BAY OF MARAJO

River Para and Bay of Marajo--Journey to Caripi--Negro Observance

of Christmas--A German Family--Bats--Ant-eaters--Hummingbirds--

Excursion to the Murucupi--Domestic Life of the Inhabitants--

Hunting Excursion with Indians--White Ants

That part of the Para river which lies in front of the city, as I

have already explained, forms a narrow channel, being separated

from the main waters of the estuary by a cluster of islands. This

channel is about two miles broad, and constitutes part of the

minor estuary of Goajara, into which the three rivers Guama,

Moju, and Acara discharge their waters. The main channel of the

Para lies ten miles away from the city, directly across the

river; at that point, after getting clear of the islands, a great

expanse of water is beheld, ten to twelve miles in width; on the

opposite shore the island of Marajo, being visible only in clear

weather as a line of tree-tops dotting the horizon. A little

further upwards, that is to the southwest, the mainland on the

right or eastern shore appears--this is called Carnapijo; it is

rocky, covered with the neverending forest, and the coast, which

is fringed with broad sandy beaches, describes a gentle curve

inwards. The broad reach of the Para in front of this coast is

called the Bahia, or Bay of Marajo. The coast and the interior of

the land are peopled by civilised Indians and Mamelucos, with a

mixture of free negroes and mulattos. They are poor, for the

waters are not abundant in fish, and they are dependent for a

livelihood solely on their small plantations, and the scant

supply of game found in the woods. The district was originally

peopled by various tribes of Indians, of whom the principal were

the Tupinambas and Nhengahibas. Like all the coast tribes,

whether inhabiting the banks of the Amazons or the seashore

between Para and Bahia, they were far more advanced in

civilisation than the hordes scattered through the interior of

the country, some of which still remain in the wild state,

between the Amazons and the Plata. There are three villages on

the coast of Carnapijo, and several planters' houses, formerly

the centres of flourishing estates, which have now relapsed into

forest in consequence of the scarcity of labour and diminished

enterprise. One of the largest of these establishments is called

Caripi. At the time of which I am speaking, it belonged to a

Scotch gentleman, Mr. Campbell, who had married the daughter of a

large Brazilian proprietor. Most of the occasional English and

American visitors to Para had made some stay at Caripi, and it

had obtained quite a reputation for the number and beauty of the

birds and insects found there; I therefore applied for, and

obtained permission, to spend two or three months at the place.

The distance from Para was about twenty-three miles, round by the

northern end of the Ilha das oncas (Isle of Tigers), which faces

the city. I bargained for a passage thither with the cabo of a

small trading-vessel, which was going past the place, and started

on the 7th of December, 1848.

We were thirteen persons aboard: the cabo, his pretty mulatto

mistress, the pilot and five Indian canoemen, three young

mamelucos (tailor-apprentices who were taking a holiday trip to

Cameta), a heavily chained runaway slave, and myself. The young

mamelucos were pleasant, gentle fellows; they could read and

write, and amused themselves on the voyage with a book containing

descriptions and statistics of foreign countries, in which they

seemed to take great interest--one reading while the others

listened. At Uirapiranga, a small island behind the Ilha das

oncas, we had to stop a short time to embark several pipes of

cashaca at a sugar estate. The cabo took the montaria and two

men; the pipes were rolled into the water and floated to the

canoe, the men passing cables round and towing them through a

rough sea. Here we slept, and the following morning, continuing

our voyage, entered a narrow channel which intersects the land of

Carnapijo. At 2 p.m. we emerged from this channel, which is

called the Aitituba, or Arrozal, into the broad Bahia, and then

saw, two or three miles away to the left, the red-tiled mansion

of Caripi, embosomed in woods on the shores of a charming little

bay.

The water is very shallow near the shore, and when the wind blows

there is a heavy ground swell. A few years previously, an English

gentleman, Mr. Graham, an amateur naturalist, was capsized here

and drowned with his wife and child, while passing in a heavily-

laden montaria to his large canoe. Remembering their fate, I was

rather alarmed to see that I should be obliged to take all my

luggage ashore in one trip in a leaky little boat. The pile of

chests with two Indians and myself sank the montaria almost to

the level of the water. I was kept busy bailing all the way. The

Indians manage canoes in this condition with admirable skill.

They preserve the nicest equilibrium, and paddle so gently that

not the slightest oscillation is perceptible. On landing, an old

negress named Florinda, the feitora or manageress of the

establishment (which was kept only as a poultry-farm and hospital

for sick slaves), gave me the keys, and I forthwith took

possession of the rooms I required.

I remained here nine weeks, or until the 12th of February, 1849.

The house was very large and most substantially built, but

consisted of only one story. I was told it was built by the

Jesuits more than a century ago. The front had no veranda, the

doors opening upon a slightly elevated terrace about a hundred

yards distant from the broad sandy beach. Around the residence

the ground had been cleared to the extent of two or three acres,

and was planted with fruit trees. Well-trodden pathways through

the forest led to little colonies of the natives on the banks of

retired creeks and rivulets in the interior. I led here a

solitary but not unpleasant life; for there was a great charm in

the loneliness of the place. The swell of the river beating on

the sloping beach caused an unceasing murmur, which lulled me to

sleep at night, and seemed appropriate music in those midday

hours when all nature was pausing breathless under the rays of a

vertical sun. Here I spent my first Christmas Day in a foreign

land. The festival was celebrated by the negroes of their own

free will and in a very pleasing manner. The room next to the one

I had chosen was the capella, or chapel. It had a little altar

which was neatly arranged, and the room was furnished with a

magnificent brass chandelier. Men, women, and children were busy

in the chapel all day on the 24th of December decorating the

altar with flowers and strewing the floor with orange-leaves.

They invited some of their neighbours to the evening prayers, and

when the simple ceremony began an hour before midnight, the

chapel was crowded. They were obliged to dispense with the mass,

for they had no priest; the service therefore consisted merely of

a long litany and a few hymns. There was placed on the altar a

small image of the infant Christ, the "Menino Deos" as they

called it, or the child-god, which had a long ribbon depending

from its waist. An old white-haired negro led off the litany, and

the rest of the people joined in the responses. After the service

was over they all went up to the altar, one by one, and kissed

the end of the ribbon. The gravity and earnestness shown

throughout the proceedings were remarkable. Some of the hymns

were very simple and beautiful, especially one beginning

"Virgensoberana," a trace of whose melody springs to my

recollection whenever I think on the dreamy solitude of Caripi.

The next day after I arrived, two blue-eyed and red-haired boys

came up and spoke to me in English, and presently their father

made his appearance. They proved to be a German family named

Petzell, who were living in the woods, Indian fashion, about a

mile from Caripi. Petzell explained to me how he came here. He

said that thirteen years ago he came to Brazil with a number of

other Germans under engagement to serve in the Brazilian army.

When his time had expired he came to Para to see the country, but

after a few months' rambling left the place to establish himself

in the United States. There he married, went to Illinois, and

settled as farmer near St. Louis. He remained on his farm seven

or eight years, and had a family of five children. He could never

forget, however, the free river-life and perpetual summer of the

banks of the Amazons; so, he persuaded his wife to consent to

break up their home in North America, and migrate to Para. No one

can imagine the difficulties the poor fellow had to go through

before reaching the land of his choice. He first descended the

Mississippi, feeling sure that a passage to Para could be got at

New Orleans. He was there told that the only port in North

America he could start from was New York, so away he sailed for

New York; but there was no chance of a vessel sailing thence to

Para, so he took a passage to Demerara, as bringing him, at any

rate, near to the desired land. There is no communication

whatever between Demerara and Para, and he was forced to remain

here with his family four or five months, during which they all

caught the yellow fever, and one of his children died. At length,

he heard of a small coasting vessel going to Cayenne, so he

embarked, and thereby got another stage nearer the end of his

journey. A short time after reaching Cayenne, he shipped in a

schooner that was going to Para, or rather the island of Marajo,

for a cargo of cattle. He had now fixed himself, after all his

wanderings, in a healthy and fertile little nook on the banks of

a rivulet near Caripi, built himself a log-hut, and planted a

large patch of mandioca and Indian corn. He seemed to be quite

happy, but his wife complained much of the want of wholesome

food, meat, and wheaten bread. I asked the children whether they

liked the country; they shook their heads, and said they would

rather be in Illinois. Petzell told me that his Indian neighbours

treated him very kindly; one or other of them called almost every

day to see how he was getting on, and they had helped him in many

ways. He had a high opinion of the Tapuyos, and said, "If you

treat them well, they will go through fire to serve you."

Petzell and his family were expert insect-collectors, so I

employed them at this work during my stay at Caripi. The daily

occurrences here were after a uniform fashion. I rose with the

dawn, took a cup of coffee, and then sallied forth after birds.

At ten I breakfasted, and devoted the hours from ten until three

to entomology. The evening was occupied in preserving and storing

my captures. Petzell and I sometimes undertook long excursions,

occupying the whole day. Our neighbours used to bring me all the

quadrupeds, birds, reptiles, and shells they met with, and so

altogether I was enabled to acquire a good collection of the

productions of the district.

The first few nights I was much troubled by bats. The room where

I slept had not been used for many months, and the roof was open

to the tiles and rafters. The first night I slept soundly and did

not perceive anything unusual, but on the next I was aroused

about midnight by the rushing noise made by vast hosts of bats

sweeping about the room. The air was alive with them; they had

put out the lamp, and when I relighted it the place appeared

blackened with the impish multitudes that were whirling round and

round. After I had laid about well with a stick for a few

minutes, they disappeared amongst the tiles, but when all was

still again they returned, and once more extinguished the light.

I took no further notice of them, and went to sleep. The next

night several got into my hammock; I seized them as they were

crawling over me, and dashed them against the wall. The next

morning I found a wound, evidently caused by a bat, on my hip.

This was rather unpleasant, so I set to work with the negroes,

and tried to exterminate them. I shot a great many as they hung

from the rafters, and the negroes having mounted with ladders to

the roof outside, routed out from beneath the caves many hundreds

of them, including young broods. There were altogether four

species--two belonging to the genus Dysopes, one to Phyllostoma,

and the fourth to Glossophaga. By far the greater number belonged

to the Dysopes perotis, a species having very large ears, and

measuring two feet from tip to tip of the wings. The Phyllostoma

was a small kind, of a dark-grey colour, streaked with white down

the back, and having a leaf-shaped fleshy expansion on the tip of

the nose. I was never attacked by bats except on this occasion.

The fact of their sucking the blood of persons sleeping, from

wounds which they make in the toes, is now well established; but

it is only a few persons who are subject to this blood-letting.

According to the negroes, the Phyllostoma is the only kind which

attacks man. Those which I caught crawling over me were Dysopes,

and I am inclined to think many different kinds of bats have this

propensity.

One day I was occupied searching for insects in the bark of a

fallen tree, when I saw a large cat-like animal advancing towards

the spot. It came within a dozen yards before perceiving me. I

had no weapon with me but an old chisel, and was getting ready to

defend myself if it should make a spring, when it turned around

hastily and trotted off. I did not obtain a very distinct view of

it, but I could see its colour was that of the Puma, or American

Lion, although it was rather too small for that species. The Puma

is not a common animal in the Amazons forests. I did not see

altogether more than a dozen skins, in the possession of the

natives. The fur is of a fawn colour. On account of its hue

resembling that of a deer common in the forests, the natives call

it the Sassu-arana, [The old zoologist Marcgrave called the Puma

the Cuguacuarana, probably (the c's being soft) a misspelling of

Sassu-arana; hence, the name Cougouar employed by French

zoologists, and copied in most works on natural history.] or the

false deer; that is, an animal which deceives one at first sight

by its superficial resemblance to a deer. The hunters are not at

all afraid of it, and speak always in disparaging terms of its

courage. Of the Jaguar, they give a very different account.

The only species of monkey I met with at Caripi was the same

dark-coloured little Midas already mentioned as found near Para.

The great Anteater, Tamandua of the natives (Myrmecophaga

jubata), was not uncommon here. After the first few weeks of

residence, I ran short of fresh provisions. The people of the

neighbourhood had sold me all the fowls they could spare; I had

not yet learned to eat the stale and stringy salt-fish which is

the staple food in these places, and for several days I had lived

on rice-porridge, roasted bananas, and farinha. Florinda asked me

whether I could eat Tamandua. I told her almost anything in the

shape of flesh would be acceptable; so the same day she went with

an old negro named Antonio and the dogs, and in the evening

brought one of the animals. The meat was stewed and turned out

very good, something like goose in flavour. The people at Caripi

would not touch a morsel, saying it was not considered fit to eat

in these parts; I had read, however, that it was an article of

food in other countries of South America. During the next two or

three weeks, whenever we were short of fresh meat, Antonio was

always ready, for a small reward, to get me a Tamandua. But one

day he came to me in great distress, with the news that his

favourite dog, Atrevido, had been caught in the grip of an ant-

eater, and was killed. We hastened to the place, and found the

dog was not dead, but severely torn by the claws of the animal,

which itself was mortally wounded, and was now relaxing its

grasp.

The habits of the Myrmecophaga jubata are now pretty well known.

It is not uncommon in the drier forests of the Amazons valley,

but is not found, I believe, in the Ygapo, or flooded lands. The

Brazilians call the species the Tamandua bandeira, or the Banner

Anteater, the term banner being applied in allusion to the

curious colouration of the animal, each side of the body having a

broad oblique stripe, half grey and half black, which gives it

some resemblance to a heraldic banner. It has an excessively long

slender muzzle, and a wormlike extensile tongue. Its jaws are

destitute of teeth. The claws are much elongated, and its gait is

very awkward. It lives on the ground, and feeds on termites, or

white ants -- the long claws being employed to pull in pieces the

solid hillocks made by the insects, and the long flexible tongue

to lick them up from the crevices. All the other species of this

singular genus are arboreal. I met with four species altogether.

One was the Myrmecophaga tetradactyla; the two others, more

curious and less known, were very small kinds, called Tamandua-i.

Both are similar in size--ten inches in length, exclusive of the

tail--and in the number of the claws, having two of unequal

length to the anterior feet, and four to the hind feet. One

species is clothed with greyish-yellow silky hair-- this is of

rare occurrence. The other has a fur of a dingy brown colour,

without silky lustre. One was brought to me alive at Caripi,

having been caught by an Indian, clinging motionless inside a

hollow tree. I kept it in the house about twenty-four hours. It

had a moderately long snout, curved downwards, and extremely

small eyes. It remained nearly all the time without motion except

when irritated, in which case it reared itself on its hind legs

from the back of a chair to which it clung, and clawed out with

its forepaws like a cat. Its manner of clinging with its claws,

and the sluggishness of its motions, gave it a great resemblance

to a sloth. It uttered no sound, and remained all night on the

spot where I had placed it in the morning. The next day, I put it

on a tree in the open air, and at night it escaped. These small

Tamanduas are nocturnal in their habits, and feed on those

species of termites which construct earthy nests that look like

ugly excrescences on the trunks and branches of trees. The

different kinds of ant-eaters are thus adapted to various modes

of life, terrestrial and arboreal. Those which live on trees are

again either diurnal or nocturnal, for Myrmecophaga tetradactyla

is seen moving along the main branches in the daytime. The allied

group of the Sloths, which are still more exclusively South

American forms than ant-eaters are, at the present time furnish

arboreal species only, but formerly terrestrial forms of sloths

also existed, as the Megatherium, whose mode of life was a

puzzle, seeing that it was of too colossal a size to live on

trees, until Owen showed how it might have obtained its food from

the ground.

In January the orange-trees became covered with blossom, at least

to a greater extent than usual, for they flower more or less in

this country all the year round--and attracting a great number of

hummingbirds. Every day, in the cooler hours of the morning, and

in the evening from four o'clock until six, they were to be seen

whirring about the trees by scores. Their motions are unlike

those of all other birds. They dart to and fro so swiftly that

the eye can scarcely follow them, and when they stop before a

flower, it is only for a few moments. They poise themselves in an

unsteady manner, their wings moving with inconceivable rapidity,

probe the flower, and then shoot off to another part of the tree.

They do not proceed in that methodical manner which bees follow,

taking the flowers seriatim, but skip about from one part of the

tree to another in the most capricious way. Sometimes two males

close with each other and fight, mounting upwards in the

struggle, as insects are often seen to do when similarly engaged,

and then separating hastily and darting back to their work. Now

and then they stop to rest, perching on leafless twigs, where

they may be sometimes seen probing, from the places where they

sit, the flowers within their reach. The brilliant colours with

which they are adorned cannot be seen whilst they are fluttering

about, nor can the different species be distinguished unless they

have a deal of white hue in their plumage, such as Heliothrix

auritus, which is wholly white underneath, although of a

glittering green colour above, and the white-tailed Florisuga

mellivora.

There is not a great variety of hummingbirds in the Amazons

region, the number of species being far smaller in these uniform

forest plains than in the diversified valleys of the Andes, under

the same parallels of latitude. The family is divisible into two

groups, contrasted in form and habits: one containing species

which live entirely in the shade of the forest, and the other

comprising those which prefer open sunny places. The forest

species (Phaethorninae) are seldom seen at flowers, flowers

being, in the shady places where they abide, of rare occurrence;

but they search for insects on leaves, threading the bushes and

passing above and beneath each leaf with wonderful rapidity. The

other group (Trochilinae) are not quite confined to cleared

places, as they come into the forest wherever a tree is in

blossom, and descend into sunny openings where flowers are to be

found. But it is only where the woods are less dense than usual

that this is the case; in the lofty forests and twilight shades

of the lowlands and islands, they are scarcely ever seen. I

searched well at Caripi, expecting to find the Lophornis Gouldii,

which I was told had been obtained in the locality. This is one

of the most beautiful of all hummingbirds, having round the neck

a frill of long white feathers tipped with golden green. I was

not, however, so fortunate as to meet with it. Several times I

shot by mistake a hummingbird hawk-moth instead of a bird. This

moth (Macroglossa Titan) is somewhat smaller than hummingbirds

generally are; but its manner of flight, and the way it poises

itself before a flower whilst probing it with its proboscis, are

precisely like the same actions of hummingbirds. It was only

after many days' experience that I learned to distinguish one

from the other when on the wing. This resemblance has attracted

the notice of the natives, all of whom, even educated whites,

firmly believe that one is transmutable into the other. They have

observed the metamorphosis of caterpillars into butterflies, and

think it not at all more wonderful that a moth should change into

a hummingbird. The resemblance between this hawk-moth and a

hummingbird is certainly very curious, and strikes one even when

both are examined in the hand. Holding them sideways, the shape

of the head and position of the eyes in the moth are seen to be

nearly the same as in the bird, the extended proboscis

representing the long beak. At the tip of the moth's body there

is a brush of long hair-scales resembling feathers, which, being

expanded, looks very much like a bird's tail. But, of course, all

these points of resemblance are merely superficial. The negroes

and Indians tried to convince me that the two were of the same

species. "Look at their feathers," they said; "their eyes are the

same, and so are their tails." This belief is so deeply rooted

that it was useless to reason with them on the subject. The

Macroglossa moths are found in most countries, and have

everywhere the same habits; one well-known species is found in

England. Mr. Gould relates that he once had a stormy altercation

with an English gentleman, who affirmed that hummingbirds were

found in England, for he had seen one flying in Devonshire,

meaning thereby the moth Macroglossa stellatarum. The analogy

between the two creatures has been brought about, probably, by

the similarity of their habits, there being no indication of the

one having been adapted in outward appearance with reference to

the other.

It has been observed that hummingbirds are unlike other birds in

their mental qualities, resembling in this respect insects rather

than warm-blooded vertebrate animals. The want of expression in

their eyes, the small degree of versatility in their actions, the

quickness and precision of their movements, are all so many

points of resemblance between them and insects.

In walking along the alleys of the forest, a Phaethornis

frequently crosses one's path, often stopping suddenly and

remaining poised in midair, a few feet distant from the face of

the intruder. The Phaethorninae are certainly more numerousin the

Amazons region that the Trochilinae. They build their nests,

which are made of fine vegetable fibres and lichens; densely

woven together and thickly lined with silk-cotton from the fruit

of the samauma tree (Eriodendron samauma); and on the inner sides

lined with of the tips of palm-fronds. They are long and

purseshaped. The young when first hatched have very much shorter

bills than their parents. The only species of Trochilinae which I

found at Caripi were the little brassy-green Polytmus

viridissimus, the sapphire and emerald (Thalurania furcata), and

the large falcate-winged Campylopterus obscurus.

Snakes were very numerous at Caripi; many harmless species were

found near the house, and these sometimes came into the rooms. I

was wandering one day amongst the green bushes of Guajara, a tree

which yields a grape-like berry (Chrysobalanus Icaco) and grows

along all these sandy shores, when I was startled by what

appeared to be the flexuous stem of a creeping plant endowed with

life and threading its way amongst the leaves and branches. This

animated liana turned out to be a pale-green snake, the Dryophis

fulgida. Its whole body is of the same green hue, and it is thus

rendered undistinguishable amidst the foliage of the Guajara

bushes, where it prowls in search of its prey-- treefrogs and

lizards. The forepart of its head is prolonged into a slender

pointed beak, and the total length of the reptile was six feet.

There was another kind found amongst bushes on the borders of the

forest closely allied to this, but much more slender, viz., the

Dryophis acuminata. This grows to a length of four feet eight

inches, the tail alone being twenty-two inches; but the diameter

of the thickest part of the body is little more than a quarter of

an inch. It is of light-brown colour, with iridescent shades

variegated with obscurer markings, and looks like a piece of

whipcord. One individual which I caught of this species had a

protuberance near the middle of the body. Upon opening it, I

found a half-digested lizard which was much more bulky than the

snake itself.

Another kind of serpent found here, a species of Helicops, was

amphibiousin its habits. I saw several of this in wet weather on

the beach, which, on being approached, always made straightway

for the water, where they swamwith much grace and dexterity.

Florinda one day caught a Helicops while angling for fish, it

having swallowed the fishhook with the bait. She and others told

me these water-snakes lived on small fishes, but I did not meet

with any proof of the statement. In the woods, snakes were

constantly occurring; it was not often, however, that I saw

poisonous species. There were many arboreal kinds besides the two

just mentioned; and it was rather alarming, in entomologising

about the trunks of trees, to suddenly encounter, on turning

round, as sometimes happened, a pair of glittering eyes and a

forked tongue within a few inches of one's head. The last kind I

shall mention is the Coral-snake, which is a most beautiful

object when seen coiled up on black soil in the woods. The one I

saw here was banded with black and vermilion, the black bands

having each two clear white rings. The state of specimens

preserved in spirits can give no idea of the brilliant colours

which adorn the Coral-snake in life.

Petzell and I, as already mentioned, made many excursions of long

extent in the neighbouring forest. We sometimes went to Murucupi,

a creek which passes through the forest, about four miles behind

Caripi, the banks of which are inhabited by Indians and half-

breeds who have lived there for many generations in perfect

seclusion from the rest of the world-- the place being little

known or frequented. A path from Caripi leads to it through a

gloomy tract of virgin forest, where the trees are so closely

packed together that the ground beneath is thrown into the

deepest shade, under which nothing but fetid fungi and rotting

vegetable debris is to be seen. On emerging from this unfriendly

solitude near the banks of the Murucupi, a charming contrast is

presented. A glorious vegetation, piled up to an immense height,

clothes the banks of the creek, which traverses a broad tract of

semi-cultivated ground, and the varied masses of greenery are

lighted up with the sunny glow. Open palm-thatched huts peep

forth here and there from amidst groves of banana, mango, cotton,

and papaw trees and palms. On our first excursion, we struck the

banks of the river in front of a house of somewhat more

substantial architecture than the rest, having finished mud walls

that were plastered and whitewashed, and had a covering of red

tiles. It seemed to be full of children, and the aspect of the

household was improved by a number of good-looking mameluco

women, who were busily employed washing, spinning, and making

farinha. Two of them, seated on a mat in the open verandah, were

engaged sewing dresses, for a festival was going to take place a

few days hence at Balcarem, a village eight miles distant from

Murucupi, and they intended to be present to hear mass and show

their finery. One of the children, a naked boy about seven years

of age, crossed over with the montaria to fetch us. We were made

welcome at once, and asked to stay for dinner. On our accepting

the invitation, a couple of fowls were killed, and a wholesome

stew of seasoned rice and fowls soon put into preparation. It is

not often that the female members of a family in these retired

places are familiar with strangers; but, these people had lived a

long time in the capital, and therefore, were more civilised than

their neighbours. Their father had been a prosperous tradesman,

and had given them the best education the place afforded. After

his death the widow with several daughters, married and

unmarried, retired to this secluded spot, which had been their

sitio, farm or country-house, for many years. One of the

daughters was married to a handsome young mulatto, who was

present, and sang us some pretty songs, accompanying himself on

the guitar.

After dinner I expressed a wish to see more of the creek; so a

lively and polite old man, whom I took to be one of the

neighbours, volunteered as guide. We embarked in a little

montaria, and paddled some three or four miles up and down the

stream. Although I had now become familiarised with beautiful

vegetation, all the glow of fresh admiration came again to me in

this place. The creek was about a hundred yards wide, but

narrower in some places. Both banks were masked by lofty walls of

green drapery, here and there a break occurring, through which,

under overarching trees, glimpses were obtained of the palm-

thatched huts of settlers. The projecting boughs of lofty trees,

which in some places stretched half-way across the creek, were

hung with natural garlands and festoons, and an endless variety

of creeping plants clothed the water-frontage, some of which,

especially the Bignonias, were ornamented with large gaily-

coloured flowers. Art could not have assorted together beautiful

vegetable forms so harmoniously as was here done by Nature.

Palms, as usual, formed a large proportion of the lower trees;

some of them, however, shot up their slim stems to a height of

sixty feet or more, and waved their bunches of nodding plumes

between us and the sky. One kind of palm, the Pashiuba (Iriartea

exorhiza), which grows here in greater abundance than elsewhere,

was especially attractive. It is not one of the tallest kinds,

for when full-grown its height is not more, perhaps, than forty

feet; the leaves are somewhat less drooping, and the leaflets

much broader than in other species, so that they have not that

feathery appearance which those of some palms have, but still

they possess their own peculiar beauty. My guide put me ashore in

one place to show me the roots of the Pashiuba. These grow above

ground, radiating from the trunk many feet above the surface, so

that the tree looks as if supported on stilts; and a person can,

in old trees, stand upright amongst the roots with the

perpendicular stem wholly above his head. It adds to the

singularity of their appearance that these roots, which have the

form of straight rods, are studded with stout thorns, while the

trunk of the tree is quite smooth. The purpose of this curious

arrangement is, perhaps, similar to that of the buttress roots

already described--namely, to recompense the tree by root-growth

above the soil for its inability, in consequence of the

competition of neighbouring roots, to extend it underground. The

great amount of moisture and nutriment contained in the

atmosphere may also favour these growths.

On returning to the house, I found Petzell had been well occupied

during the hot hours of the day collecting insects in a

neighbouring clearing. Our kind hosts gave us a cup of coffee

about five o'clock, and we then started for home. The last mile

of our walk was performed in the dark. The forest in this part is

obscure even in broad daylight, but I was scarcely prepared for

the intense opacity of darkness which reigned here on this night,

and which prevented us from seeing each other while walking side

by side. Nothing occurred of a nature to alarm us, except that

now and then a sudden rush was heard among the trees, and once a

dismal shriek startled us. Petzell tripped at one place and fell

all his length into the thicket. With this exception, we kept

well to the pathway, and in due time arrived safely at Caripi.

One of my neighbours at Murucupi was a hunter of reputation in

these parts. He was a civilised Indian, married and settled,

named Raimundo, whose habit was to sally forth at intervals to

certain productive hunting-grounds, the situation of which he

kept secret, and procure fresh provisions for his family. I had

found out by this time that animal food was as much a necessary

of life in this exhausting climate as it is in the North of

Europe. An attempt which I made to live on vegetable food was

quite a failure, and I could not eat the execrable salt-fish

which Brazilians use. I had been many days without meat of any

kind, and nothing more was to be found near Caripi, so I asked as

a favour of Senor Raimundo permission to accompany him on one of

his hunting-trips, and shoot a little game for my own use. He

consented, and appointed a day on which I was to come over to his

house to sleep, so as to be ready for starting with the ebb-tide

shortly after midnight.

The locality we were to visit was situated near the extreme point

of the land of Carnapijo, where it projects northwardly into the

middle of the Para estuary, and is broken into a number of

islands. On the afternoon of January 11th, 1849, I walked through

the woods to Raimundo's house, taking nothing with me but a

double-barrelled gun, a supply of ammunition, and a box for the

reception of any insects I might capture. Raimundo was a

carpenter, and seemed to be a very industrious, man; he had two

apprentices, Indians like himself: one a young lad, and the other

apparently about twenty years of age. His wife was of the same

race. The Indian women are not always of a taciturn disposition

like their husbands. Senora Dominga was very talkative; there was

another old squaw at the house on a visit, and the tongues of the

two were going at a great rate the whole evening, using only the

Tupi language. Raimundo and his apprentices were employed

building a canoe. Notwithstanding his industry, he seemed to be

very poor, and this was the condition of most of the residents on

the banks of the Murucupi. They have, nevertheless, considerable

plantations of mandioca and Indian corn, besides small plots of

cotton, coffee, and sugarcane; the soil is very fertile, they

have no rent to pay, and no direct taxes. There is, moreover,

always a market in Para, twenty miles distant, for their surplus

produce, and a ready communication with it by water.

In the evening we had more visitors. The sounds of pipe and tabor

were heard, and presently a procession of villagers emerged from

a pathway through the mandioca fields. They were on a begging

expedition for St. Thome, the patron saint of Indians and

Mamelucos. One carried a banner, on which was crudely painted the

figure of St. Thome with a glory round his head. The pipe and

tabor were of the simplest description. The pipe was a reed

pierced with four holes, by means of which a few unmusical notes

were produced, and the tabor was a broad hoop with a skin

stretched over each end. A deformed young man played both the

instruments. Senor Raimundo received them with the quiet

politeness which comes so naturally to the Indian when occupying

the position of host. The visitors, who had come from the Villa

de Conde, five miles through the forest, were invited to rest.

Raimundo then took the image of St. Thome from one of the party,

and placed it by the side of Nossa Senhora in his own oratorio, a

little decorated box in which every family keeps its household

gods, finally lighting a couple of wax candles before it. Shortly

afterwards a cloth was laid on a mat, and all the guests were

invited to supper. The fare was very scanty-- a boiled fowl with

rice, a slice of roasted pirarucu, farinha, and bananas. Each one

partook very sparingly, some of the young men contenting

themselves with a plateful of rice. One of the apprentices stood

behind with a bowl of water and a towel, with which each guest

washed his fingers and rinsed his mouth after the meal. They

stayed all night-- the large open shed was filled with hammocks,

which were slung from pole to pole; and upon retiring, Raimundo

gave orders for their breakfast in the morning.

Raimundo called me at two o'clock, when we embarked (he, his

older apprentice Joaquim, and myself) in a shady place where it

was so dark that I could see neither canoe nor water, taking with

us five dogs. We glided down a winding creek where huge trunks of

trees slanted across close overhead, and presently emerged into

the Murucupi. A few yards further on we entered the broader

channel of the Aitituba. This we crossed, and entered another

narrow creek on the opposite side. Here the ebb-tide was against

us, and we had great difficulty in making progress. After we had

struggled against the powerful current a distance of two miles,

we came to a part where the ebb-tide ran in the opposite

direction, showing that we had crossed the watershed. The tide

flows into this channel or creek at both ends simultaneously, and

meets in the middle, although there is apparently no difference

of level, and the breadth of the water is the same. The tides are

extremely intricate throughout all the infinite channels and

creeks which intersect the lands of the Amazons delta.

The moon now broke forth and lighted up the trunks of colossal

trees, the leaves of monstrous Jupati palms which arched over the

creek, and revealed groups of arborescent arums standing like

rows of spectres on its banks. We had a glimpse now and then into

the black depths of the forest, where all was silent except the

shrill stridulation of wood-crickets. Now and then a sudden

plunge in the water ahead would startle us, caused by heavy fruit

or some nocturnal animal dropping from the trees. The two Indians

here rested on their paddles and allowed the canoe to drift with

the tide. A pleasant perfume came from the forest, which Raimundo

said proceeded from a cane-field. He told me that all this land

was owned by large proprietors at Para, who had received grants

from time to time from the Government for political services.

Raimundo was quite in a talkative humour; he related to me many

incidents of the time of the "Cabanagem," as the revolutionary

days of 1835-6 are popularly called. He said he had been much

suspected himself of being a rebel, but declared that the

suspicion was unfounded. The only complaint he had to make

against the white man was that he monopolised the land without

having any intention or prospect of cultivating it. He had been

turned out of one place where he had squatted and cleared a large

piece of forest. I believe the law of Brazil at this time was

that the new lands should become the property of those who

cleared and cultivated them, if their right was not disputed

within a given term of years by some one who claimed the

proprietorship. This land-law has since been repealed, and a new

one adopted founded on that of the United States. Raimundo spoke

of his race as the redskins, "pelle vermelho." They meant well to

the whites, and only begged to be let alone. "God," he said, "had

given room enough for us all."

It was pleasant to hear the shrewd good-natured fellow talk in

this strain. Our companion, Joaquim, had fallen asleep; the night

air was cool, and the moonlight lit up the features of Raimundo,

revealing a more animated expression than is usually observable

in Indian countenances. I always noticed that Indians were more

cheerful on a voyage, especially in the cool hours of night and

morning, than when ashore. There is something in their

constitution of body which makes them feel excessively depressed

in the hot hours of the day, especially inside their houses.

Their skin is always hot to the touch. They certainly do not

endure the heat of their own climate so well as the whites. The

negroes are totally different in this respect; the heat of midday

has very little effect on them, and they dislike the cold nights

on the river.

We arrived at our hunting-ground about half-past four. The

channel was broader here and presented several ramifications. It

yet wanted an hour and a half to daybreak, so

Raimundo,recommended me to have a nap. We both stretched

ourselves on the benches of the canoe and fell asleep, letting

the boat drift with the tide, which was now slack. I slept well

considering the hardness of our bed, and when I awoke in the

middle of a dream about home-scenes, the day was beginning to

dawn. My clothes were quite wet with the dew. The birds were

astir, the cicadas had begun their music, and the Urania Leilus,

a strange and beautiful tailed and gilded moth, whose habits are

those of a butterfly, commenced to fly in flocks over the tree-

tops. Raimundo exclaimed "Clareia o dia!"--"The day brightens!"

The change was rapid: the sky in the east assumed suddenly the

loveliest azure colour, across which streaks of thin white clouds

were painted. It is at such moments as this when one feels how

beautiful our earth truly is! The channel on whose waters our

little boat was floating was about two hundred yards wide; others

branched off right and left, surrounding the group of lonely

islands which terminate the land of Carnapijo. The forest on all

sides formed a lofty hedge without a break; below, it was fringed

with mangrove bushes, whose small foliage contrasted with the

large glossy leaves of the taller trees, or the feather and fan-

shaped fronds of palms.

Being now arrived at our destination, Raimundo turned up his

trousers and shirt-sleeves, took his long hunting-knife, and

leapt ashore with the dogs. He had to cut a gap in order to enter

the forest. We expected to find Pacas and Cutias; and the method

adopted to secure them was this: at the present early hour they

would be seen feeding on fallen fruits, but would quickly, on

hearing a noise, betake themselves to their burrows; Raimundo was

then to turn them out by means of the dogs, and Joaquim and I

were to remain in the boat with our guns, ready to shoot all that

came to the edge of the stream--the habits of both animals, when

hard-pressed, being to take to the water. We had not long to

wait. The first arrival was a Paca, a reddish, nearly tail-less

rodent, spotted with white on the sides, and intermediate in size

and appearance between a hog and a hare. My first shot did not

take effect; the animal dived into the water and did not

reappear. A second was brought down by my companion as it was

rambling about under the mangrove bushes. A Cutia next appeared:

this is also a rodent, about one-third the size of the Paca; it

swims, but does not dive, and I was fortunate enough to shoot it.

We obtained in this way two more Pacas and another Cutia. All the

time the dogs were yelping in the forest.

Shortly afterwards Raimundo made his appearance, and told us to

paddle to the other side of the island. Arrived there, we landed

and prepared for breakfast. It was a pretty spot--a clean, white,

sandy beach beneath the shade of wide-spreading trees. Joaquim

made a fire. He first scraped fine shavings from the midrib of a

Bacaba palm-leaf; these he piled into a little heap in a dry

place, and then struck a light in his bamboo tinderbox with a

piece of an old file and a flint, the tinder being a felt-like

substance manufactured by an ant (Polyrhachis bispinosus). By

gentle blowing, the shavings ignited, dry sticks were piled on

them, and a good fire soon resulted. He then singed and prepared

the cutia, finishing by running a spit through the body and

fixing one end in the ground in a slanting position over the

fire. We had brought with us a bag of farinha and a cup

containing a lemon, a dozen or two of fiery red peppers, and a

few spoonsful of salt. We breakfasted heartily when our cutia was

roasted, and washed the meal down with a calabash full of the

pure water of the river.

After breakfast the dogs found another cutia, which was hidden in

its burrow two or three feet beneath the roots of a large tree,

and it took Raimundo nearly an hour to disinter it. Soon

afterwards we left this place, crossed the channel, and, paddling

past two islands, obtained a glimpse of the broad river between

them, with a long sandy spit, on which stood several scarlet

ibises and snow-white egrets. One of the islands was low and

sandy, and half of it was covered with gigantic arum-trees, the

often-mentioned Caladium arborescens, which presented a strange

sight. Most people are acquainted with the little British

species, Arum maculatum, which grows in hedge-bottoms, and many,

doubtless, have admired the larger kinds grown in hothouses; they

can therefore form some idea of a forest of arums. On this islet

the woody stems of the plants near the bottom were eight to ten

inches in diameter, and the trees were twelve to fifteen feet

high-- all growing together in such a manner that there was just

room for a man to walk freely between them. There was a canoe

inshore, with a man and a woman-- the man, who was hooting with

all his might, told us in passing that his son was lost in the

"aningal" (arum-grove). He had strayed while walking ashore, and

the father had now been an hour waiting for him in vain.

About one o'clock we again stopped at the mouth of a little

creek. It was now intensely hot. Raimundo said deer were found

here; so he borrowed my gun, as being a more effective weapon

than the wretched arms called Lazarinos, which he, in common with

all the native hunters, used, and which sell at Para for seven or

eight shillings apiece. Raimundo and Joaquim now stripped

themselves quite naked, and started off in different directions

through the forest, going naked in order to move with less noise

over the carpet of dead leaves, among which they stepped so

stealthily that not the slightest rustle could be heard. The dogs

remained in the canoe, in the neighbourhood of which I employed

myself two hours entomologising. At the end of that time my two

companions returned, having met with no game whatever.

We now embarked on our return voyage. Raimundo cut two slender

poles, one for a mast and the other for a sprit-- to these he

rigged a sail we had brought in the boat, for we were to return

by the open river, and expected a good wind to carry us to

Caripi. As soon as we got out of the channel we began to feel the

wind--the sea-breeze, which here makes a clean sweep from the

Atlantic. Our boat was very small and heavily laden; and when,

after rounding a point, I saw the great breadth we had to

traverse (seven miles), I thought the attempt to cross in such a

slight vessel foolhardy in the extreme. The waves ran very high,

there was no rudder, Raimundo steered with a paddle, and all we

had to rely upon to save us from falling into the trough of the

sea and being instantly swamped were his nerve and skill. There

was just room in the boat for our three selves, the dogs, and the

game we had killed, and when between the swelling ridges of waves

in so frail a shell, our destruction seemed inevitable; as it

was, we shipped a little water now and then. Joaquim assisted

with his paddle to steady the boat-- my time was fully occupied

in bailing out the water and watching the dogs, which were

crowded together in the prow, yelling with fear-- one or other of

them occasionally falling over the side and causing great

commotion in scrambling in again. Off the point was a ridge of

rocks, over which the surge raged furiously. Raimundo sat at the

stern, rigid and silent, his eye steadily watching the prow of

the boat. It was almost worth the risk and discomfort of the

passage to witness the seamanlike ability displayed by Indians on

the water. The little boat rode beautifully, rising well with

each wave, and in the course of an hour and a half we arrived at

Caripi, thoroughly tired and wet through to the skin.

On the 16th of January, the dry season came abruptly to an end.

The sea-breezes, which had been increasing in force for some

days, suddenly ceased, and the atmosphere became misty; at length

heavy clouds collected where a uniform blue sky had for many

weeks prevailed, and down came a succession of heavy showers, the

first of which lasted a whole day and night. This seemed to give

a new stimulus to animal life. On the first night there was a

tremendous uproar--tree-frogs, crickets, goat-suckers, and owls

all joining to perform a deafening concert. One kind of goat-

sucker kept repeating at intervals throughout the night a phrase

similar to the Portuguese words, "Joao corta pao,"--"John, cut

wood"-- a phrase which forms the Brazilian name of the bird. An

owl in one of the Genipapa trees muttered now and then a

succession of syllables resembling the word "Murucututu."

Sometimes the croaking and hooting of frogs and toads were so

loud that we could not hear one another's voices within doors.

Swarms of dragonflies appeared in the daytime about the pools of

water created by the rain, and ants and termites came forth in

the winged state in vast numbers. I noticed that the winged

termites, or white ants, which came by hundreds to the lamps at

night, when alighting on the table, often jerked off their wings

by a voluntary movement. On examination I found that the wings

were not shed by the roots, for a small portion of the stumps

remained attached to the thorax. The edge of the fracture was in

all cases straight, not ruptured; there is, in fact, a natural

seam crossing the member towards its root, and at this point the

long wing naturally drops or is jerked off when the insect has no

further use for it. The white ant is endowed with wings simply

for the purpose of flying away from the colony peopled by its

wingless companions, to pair with individuals of the same or

other colonies, and thus propagate and disseminate its kind. The

winged individuals are males and females, while the great bulk of

their wingless fraternity are of no sex, but are of two castes,

soldiers and workers, which are restricted to the functions of

building the nests, nursing, and defending the young brood. The

two sexes mate while on the ground, after the wings are shed; and

then the married couples, if they escape the numerous enemies

which lie in wait for them, proceed to the task of founding new

colonies. Ants and white ants have much that is analogous in

their modes of life-- they belong, however, to two widely

different orders of insects, strongly contrasted in their

structure and manner of growth.

I amassed at Caripi a very large collection of beautiful and

curious insects, amounting altogether to about twelve hundred

species. The number of Coleoptera was remarkable, seeing that

this order is so poorly represented near Para. I attributed their

abundance to the number of new clearings made in the virgin

forest by the native settlers. The felled timber attracts

lignivorous insects, and these draw in their train the predaceous

species of various families. As a general rule, the species were

smaller and much less brilliant in colours than those of Mexico

and South Brazil. The species too, although numerous, were not

represented by great numbers of individuals; they were also

extremely nimble, and therefore much less easy of capture than

insects of the same order in temperate climates. The carnivorous

beetles at Caripi were, like those of Para, chiefly arboreal.

Most of them exhibited a beautiful contrivance for enabling them

to cling to and run over smooth or flexible surfaces, such as

leaves. Their tarsi or feet are broad, and furnished beneath with

a brush of short stiff hairs; while their claws are toothed in

the form of a comb, adapting them for clinging to the smooth

edges of leaves, the joint of the foot which precedes the claw

being cleft so as to allow free play to the claw in grasping. The

common dung-beetles at Caripi, which flew about in the evening

like the Geotrupes, the familiar "shard-borne beetle with his

drowsy hum" of our English lanes, were of colossal size and

beautiful colours. One kind had a long spear-shaped horn

projecting from the crown of its head (Phanaeus lancifer). A blow

from this fellow, as he came heavily flying along, was never very

pleasant. All the tribes of beetles which feed on vegetable

substances, fresh or decayed, were very numerous. The most

beautiful of these, but not the most common, were the

Longicornes; very graceful insects, having slender bodies and

long antennae, often ornamented with fringes and tufts of hair.

They were found on flowers, on trunks of trees, or flying about

the new clearings. One small species (Coremia hirtipes) has a

tuft of hairs on its hind legs, while many of its sister species

have a similar ornament on the antennae. It suggests curious

reflections when we see an ornament like the feather of a

grenadier's cap situated on one part of the body in one species,

and in a totally different part in nearly allied ones. I tried in

vain to discover the use of these curious brush-like decorations.

On the trunk of a living leguminous tree, Petzell found a number

of a very rare and handsome species, the Platysternus hebraeus,

which is of a broad shape, coloured ochreous, but spotted and

striped with black, so as to resemble a domino. On the felled

trunks of trees, swarms of gilded-green Longicornes occurred, of

small size (Chrysoprasis), which looked like miniature musk-

beetles, and, indeed, are closely allied to those well-known

European insects.

At length, on the 12th of February, I left Caripi, my Negro and

Indian neighbours bidding me a warm "adios." I had passed a

delightful time, notwithstanding the many privations undergone in

the way of food. The wet season had now set in; the lowlands and

islands would soon become flooded daily at high water, and the

difficulty of obtaining fresh provisions would increase. I

intended, therefore, to spend the next three months at Para, in

the neighbourhood of which there was still much to be done in the

intervals of fine weather, and then start off on another

excursion into the interior.

CHAPTER VI

THE LOWER AMAZONS-PARA TO OBYDOS

Modes of Travelling on the Amazons--Historical Sketch of the

Early Explorations of the River--Preparations for Voyage--Life on

Board a Large Trading Vessel--The narrow channels joining the

Para to the Amazons--First Sight of the Great River--Gurupa--The

Great Shoal--Flat-topped Mountains--Santarem--Obydos

At the time of my first voyage up the Amazons--namely, in 1849--

nearly all communication with the interior was by means of small

sailing-vessels, owned by traders residing in the remote towns

and villages, who seldom came to Para themselves, but entrusted

vessels and cargoes to the care of half-breeds or Portuguese

cabos. Sometimes, indeed, they risked all in the hands of the

Indian crew, making the pilot, who was also steersman, do duty as

supercargo. Now and then, Portuguese and Brazilian merchants at

Para furnished young Portuguese with merchandise, and dispatched

them to the interior to exchange the goods for produce among the

scattered population. The means of communication, in fact, with

the upper parts of the Amazons had been on the decline for some

time, on account of the augmented difficulty of obtaining hands

to navigate vessels. Formerly, when the Government wished to send

any important functionary, such as a judge or a military

commandant, into the interior, they equipped a swift-sailing

galliota manned with ten or a dozen Indians. These could travel,

on the average, in one day farther than the ordinary sailing

craft could in three. Indian paddlers were now, however, almost

impossible to be obtained, and Government officers were obliged

to travel as passengers in trading-vessels. The voyage made in

this way was tedious in the extreme. When the regular east-wind

blew--the "vento geral," or trade-wind of the Amazons--sailing-

vessels could get along very well; but when this failed, they

were obliged to remain, sometimes many days together, anchored

near the shore, or progress laboriously by means of the "espia."

The latter mode of travelling was as follows. The montaria, with

twenty or thirty fathoms of cable, one end of which was attached

to the foremast, was sent ahead with a couple of hands, who

secured the other end of the rope to some strong bough or tree-

trunk; the crew then hauled the vessel up to the point, after

which the men in the boat re-embarked the cable, and paddled

forwards to repeat the process. In the dry season, from August to

December, when the trade-wind is strong and the currents slack, a

schooner could reach the mouth of the Rio Negro, a thousand miles

from Para, in about forty days; but in the wet season, from

January to July, when the east-wind no longer blows and the

Amazons pours forth its full volume of water, flooding the banks

and producing a tearing current, it took three months to travel

the same distance. It was a great blessing to the inhabitants

when, in 1853, a line of steamers was established, and this same

journey could be accomplished with ease and comfort, at all

seasons, in eight days!

It is, perhaps, not generally known that the Portuguese, as early

as 1710, had a fair knowledge of the Amazons; but the information

gathered by their Government, from various expeditions undertaken

on a grand scale, was long withheld from the rest of the world,

through the jealous policy which ruled in their colonial affairs.

From the foundation of Para by Caldeira, in 1615, to the

settlement of the boundary line between the Spanish and

Portuguese possessions, Peru and Brazil, in 1781-91, numbers of

these expeditions were undertaken in succession . The largest was

the one commanded by Pedro Texeira in 1637-9, who ascended the

river to Quito by way of the Napo, a distance of about 2800

miles, with 45 canoes and 900 men, and returned to Para without

any great misadventure by the same route. The success of this

remarkable undertaking amply proved, at that early date, the

facility of the river navigation, the practicability of the

country, and the good disposition of the aboriginal inhabitants.

The river, however, was first discovered by the Spaniards, the

mouth having been visited by Pinzon in 1500, and nearly the whole

course of the river navigated by Orellana in 1541-2. The voyage

of the latter was one of the most remarkable on record. Orellana

was a lieutenant of Gonzalo Pizarro, Governor of Quito, and

accompanied the latter in an adventurous journey which he

undertook across the easternmost chain of the Andes, down into

the sweltering valley of the Napo, in search of the land of El

Dorado, or the Gilded King. They started with 300 soldiers and

4000 Indian porters; but, arrived on the banks of one of the

tributaries of the Napo, their followers were so greatly

decreased in number by disease and hunger, and the remainder so

much weakened, that Pizarro was obliged to despatch Orellana with

fifty men, in a vessel they had built, to the Napo, in search of

provisions. It can be imagined by those acquainted with the

Amazons country how fruitless this errand would be in the

wilderness of forest where Orellana and his followers found

themselves when they reached the Napo, and how strong their

disinclination would be to return against the currents and rapids

which they had descended. The idea then seized them to commit

themselves to the chances of the stream, although ignorant

whither it would lead. So onward they went. From the Napo they

emerged into the main Amazons, and, after many and various

adventures with the Indians on its banks, reached the Atlantic--

eight months from the date of their entering the great river. [It

was during this voyage that the nation of female warriors was

said to have been met with; a report which gave rise to the

Portuguese name of the river, Amazonas. It is now pretty well

known that this is a mere fable, originating in the love of the

marvellous which distinguished the early Spanish adventurers, and

impaired the credibility of their narratives.]

Another remarkable voyage was accomplished, in a similar manner,

by a Spaniard named Lopez d'Aguirre, from Cusco, in Peru, down

the Ucayali, a branch of the Amazons flowing from the south, and

therefore, from an opposite direction to that of the Napo. An

account of this journey was sent by D'Aguirre, in a letter to the

King of Spain, from which Humboldt has given an extract in his

narrative. As it is a good specimen of the quaintness of style

and looseness of statement exhibited by these early narrators of

adventures in South America, I will give a translation of it:

"We constructed rafts, and, leaving behind our horses and

baggage, sailed down the river (the Ucayali) with great risk,

until we found ourselves in a gulf of fresh water. In this river

Maranon we continued more than ten months and a half, down to its

mouth, where it falls into the sea. We made one hundred days'

journey, and travelled 1500 leagues. It is a great and fearful

stream, has 80 leagues of fresh water at its mouth, vast shoals,

and 800 leagues of wilderness without any kind of inhabitants,

[This account disagrees with that of Acunna, the historiographer

of Texeira's expedition, who accompanied him, in 1639, on his

return voyage from Quito. Acunna speaks of a very numerous

population on the banks of the Amazons.] as your Majesty will see

from the true and correct narrative of the journey which we have

made. It has more than 6000 islands. God knows how we came out of

this fearful sea!"

Many expeditions were undertaken in the course of the eighteenth

century; in fact, the crossing of the continent from the Pacific

to the Atlantic, by way of the Amazons, seems to have become by

this time a common occurrence. The only voyage, however, which

yielded much scientific information to the European public was

that of the French astronomer, La Condamine, in 1743-4. The most

complete account yet published of the river is that given by Von

Martius in the third volume of Spix and Martius' Travels. These

most accomplished travellers were eleven months in the country--

namely, from July, 1819, to June, 1820--and ascended the river to

the frontiers of the Brazilian territory. The accounts they have

given of the geography, ethnology, botany, history, and

statistics of the Amazons region are the most complete that have

ever been given to the world. Their narrative was not published

until 1831, and was unfortunately inaccessible to me during the

time I travelled in the same country.

While preparing for my voyage it happened, fortunately, that the

half-brother of Dr. Angelo Custodio, a young mestizo named Joao

da Cunha Correia, was about to start for the Amazons on a trading

expedition in his own vessel, a schooner of about forty tons'

burthen. A passage for me was soon arranged with him through the

intervention of Dr. Angelo, and we started on the 5th of

September, 1849. I intended to stop at some village on the

northern shore of the Lower Amazons, where it would be

interesting to make collections, in order to show the relations

of the fauna to those of Para and the coast region of Guiana. As

I should have to hire a house or hut wherever I stayed, I took

all the materials for housekeeping--cooking utensils, crockery,

and so forth. To these were added a stock of such provisions as

it would be difficult to obtain in the interior--also ammunition,

chests, store-boxes, a small library of natural history books,

and a hundredweight of copper money. I engaged, after some

trouble, a Mameluco youth to accompany me as servant--a short,

fat, yellow-faced boy named Luco, whom I had already employed at

Para in collecting. We weighed anchor at night, and on the

following day found ourselves gliding along the dark-brown waters

of the Moju.

Joao da Cunha, like most of his fellow countrymen, took matters

very easily. He was going to be absent in the interior several

years, and therefore, intended to diverge from his route to visit

his native place, Cameta, and spend a few days with his friends.

It seemed not to matter to him that he had a cargo of

merchandise, vessel, and crew of twelve persons, which required

an economical use of time; "pleasure first and business

afterwards" appeared to be his maxim. We stayed at Cameta twelve

days. The chief motive for prolonging the stay to this extent was

a festival at the Aldeia, two miles below Cameta, which was to

commence on the 21st, and which my friend wished to take part in.

On the day of the festival the schooner was sent down to anchor

off the Aldeia, and master and men gave themselves up to revelry.

In the evening a strong breeze sprang up, and orders were given

to embark. We scrambled down in the dark through the thickets of

cacao, orange, and coffee trees which clothed the high bank, and,

after running great risk of being swamped by the heavy sea in the

crowded montaria, got all aboard by nine o'clock. We made all

sail amidst the "adios" shouted to us by Indian and mulatto

sweethearts from the top of the bank, and, tide and wind being

favourable, were soon miles away.

Our crew consisted, as already mentioned, of twelve persons. One

was a young Portuguese from the province of Traz os Montes, a

pretty sample of the kind of emigrants which Portugal sends to

Brazil. He was two or three and twenty years of age, and had been

about two years in the country, dressing and living like the

Indians, to whom he was certainly inferior in manners. He could

not read or write, whereas one at least of our Tapuyos had both

accomplishments. He had a little wooden image of Nossa Senora in

his rough wooden clothes-chest, and to this he always had

recourse when any squall arose, or when we ran aground on a

shoal. Another of our sailors was a tawny white of Cameta; the

rest were Indians, except the cook, who was a Cafuzo, or half-

breed between the Indian and negro. It is often said that this

class of mestizos is the most evilly-disposed of all the numerous

crosses between the races inhabiting Brazil; but Luiz was a

simple, good-hearted fellow, always ready to do one a service.

The pilot was an old Tapuyo of Para, with regular oval face and

well-shaped features. I was astonished at his endurance. He never

quitted the helm night or day, except for two or three hours in

the morning. The other Indians used to bring him his coffee and

meals, and after breakfast one of them relieved him for a time,

when he used to lie down on the quarterdeck and get his two hours

nap. The Indians forward had things pretty much their own way. No

system of watches was followed; when any one was so disposed, he

lay down on the deck and went to sleep; but a feeling of good

fellowship seemed always to exist amongst them. One of them was a

fine specimen of the Indian race-- a man just short of six feet

high, with remarkable breadth of shoulder and full muscular

chest. His comrades called him the commandant, on account of his

having been one of the rebel leaders when the Indians and others

took Santarem in 1835. They related of him that, when the legal

authorities arrived with an armed flotilla to recapture the town,

he was one of the last to quit, remaining in the little fortress

which commands the place to make a show of loading the guns,

although the ammunition had given out long ago. Such were our

travelling companions. We lived almost the same as on board ship.

Our meals were cooked in the galley; but, where practicable, and

during our numerous stoppages, the men went in the montaria to

fish near the shore, so that our breakfasts and dinners of salt

pirarucu were sometimes varied with fresh food.

September 24th--We passed Entre-as-Ilhas with the morning tide

yesterday, and then made across to the eastern shore--the

starting-point for all canoes which have to traverse the broad

mouth of the Tocantins going west. Early this morning we

commenced the passage. The navigation is attended with danger on

account of the extensive shoals in the middle of the river, which

are covered only by a small depth of water at this season of the

year. The wind was fresh, and the schooner rolled and pitched

like a ship at sea. The distance was about fifteen miles. In the

middle, the river-view was very imposing. Towards the northeast

there was a long sweep of horizon clear of land, and on the

southwest stretched a similar boundless expanse, but varied with

islets clothed with fan-leaved palms, which, however, were

visible only as isolated groups of columns, tufted at the top,

rising here and there amidst the waste of waters. In the

afternoon we rounded the westernmost point; the land, which is

not terra firma, but simply a group of large islands forming a

portion of the Tocantins delta, was then about three miles

distant.

On the following day (25th) we sailed towards the west, along the

upper portion of the Para estuary, which extends seventy miles

beyond the mouth of the Tocantins. It varies in width from three

to five miles, but broadens rapidly near its termination, where

it is eight or nine miles wide. The northern shore is formed by

the island of Marajo, and is slightly elevated and rocky in some

parts. A series of islands conceals the southern shore from view

most of the way. The whole country, mainland and islands, is

covered with forest. We had a good wind all day, and about 7 p.m.

entered the narrow river of Breves, which commences abruptly the

extensive labyrinth of channels that connects the Para with the

Amazons. The sudden termination of the Para at a point where it

expands to so great a breadth is remarkable; the water, however,

is very shallow over the greater portion of the expanse. I

noticed both on this and on the three subsequent occasions of

passing this place in ascending and descending the river, that

the flow of the tide from the east along the estuary, as well as

up the Breves, was very strong. This seems sufficient to prove

that no considerable volume of water passes by this medium from

the Amazons to the Para, and that the opinion of those

geographers is an incorrect one, who believe the Para to be one

of the mouths of the great river. There is, however, another

channel connecting the two rivers, which enters the Para six

miles to the south of the Breves. The lower part of its course

for eighteen miles is formed by the Uanapu, a large and

independent river flowing from the south. The tidal flow is said

by the natives to produce little or no current up this river--a

fact which seems to afford a little support to the view just

stated.

We passed the village of Breves at 3 p.m. on the 26th. It

consists of about forty houses, most of which are occupied by

Portuguese shopkeepers. A few Indian families reside here, who

occupy themselves with the manufacture of ornamental pottery and

painted cuyas, which they sell to traders or passing travellers.

The cuyas--drinking-cups made from gourds--are sometimes very

tastefully painted. The rich black ground colour is produced by a

dye made from the bark of a tree called Comateu, the gummy nature

of which imparts a fine polish. The yellow tints are made with

the Tabatinga clay; the red with the seeds of the Urucu, or

anatto plant; and the blue with indigo, which is planted round

the huts. The art is indigenous with the Amazonian Indians, but

it is only the settled agricultural tribes belonging to the Tupi

stock who practise it.

September 27th-30th.--After passing Breves, we continued our way

slowly along a channel, or series of channels, of variable width.

On the morning of the 27th we had a fair wind, the breadth of the

stream varying from about 150 to 400 yards. About midday we

passed, on the western side, the mouth of the Aturiazal, through

which, on account of its swifter current, vessels pass in

descending from the Amazons to Para. Shortly afterwards we

entered the narrow channel of the Jaburu, which lies twenty miles

above the mouth of the Breves. Here commences the peculiar

scenery of this remarkable region. We found ourselves in a narrow

and nearly straight canal, not more than eighty to a hundred

yards in width, and hemmed in by two walls of forest, which rose

quite perpendicularly from the water to a height of seventy or

eighty feet. The water was of great and uniform depth, even close

to the banks. We seemed to be in a deep gorge, and the strange

impression the place produced was augmented by the dull echoes

wakened by the voices of our Indians and the splash of their

paddles. The forest was excessively varied. Some of the trees,

the dome-topped giants of the Leguminous and Bombaceous orders,

reared their heads far above the average height of the green

walls. The fan-leaved Miriti palm was scattered in some numbers

amidst the rest, a few solitary specimens shooting up their

smooth columns above the other trees. The graceful Assai palm

grew in little groups, forming feathery pictures set in the

rounder foliage of the mass. The Ubussu, lower in height, showed

only its shuttlecock shaped crowns of huge undivided fronds,

which, being of a vivid pale-green, contrasted forcibly against

the sombre hues of the surrounding foliage. The Ubussu grew here

in great numbers; the equally remarkable Jupati palm (Rhaphia

taedigera), which, like the Ubussu, is peculiar to this district,

occurred more sparsely, throwing its long shaggy leaves, forty to

fifty feet in length, in broad arches over the canal. An infinite

diversity of smaller-sized palms decorated the water's edge, such

as the Maraja-i (Bactris, many species), the Ubim (Geonoma), and

a few stately Bacabas (Oenocarpus Bacaba). The shape of this last

is exceedingly elegant, the size of the crown being in proper

proportion to the straight smooth stem. The leaves, down even to

the bases of the glossy petioles, are of a rich dark-green

colour, and free from spines.

"The forest wall"--I am extracting from my journal-"under which

we are now moving, consists, besides palms, of a great variety of

ordinary forest trees. From the highest branches of these down to

the water sweep ribbons of climbing plants of the most diverse

and ornamental foliage possible. Creeping convolvuli and others

have made use of the slender lianas and hanging air roots as

ladders to climb by. Now and then appears a Mimosa or other tree

having similar fine pinnate foliage, and thick masses of Inga

border the water, from whose branches hang long bean-pods, of

different shape and size according to the species, some of them a

yard in length. Flowers there are very few. I see, now and then,

a gorgeous crimson blossom on long spikes ornamenting the sombre

foliage towards the summits of the forest. I suppose it to belong

to a climber of the Combretaceous order. There are also a few

yellow and violet Trumpet-flowers (Bignoniae). The blossoms of

the Ingas, although not conspicuous, are delicately beautiful.

The forest all along offers so dense a front that one never

obtains a glimpse into the interior of the wilderness."

The length of the Jaburu channel is about thirty-five miles,

allowing for the numerous abrupt bends which occur between the

middle and the northern end of its course. We were three days and

a half accomplishing the passage. The banks on each side seemed

to be composed of hard river-mud with a thick covering of

vegetable mold, so that I should imagine this whole district

originated in a gradual accumulation of alluvium, through which

the endless labyrinths of channels have worked their deep and

narrow beds. The flood-tide as we travelled northward became

gradually of less assistance to us, as it caused only a feeble

current upwards. The pressure of the waters from the Amazons here

makes itself felt; as this is not the case lower down, I suppose

the currents are diverted through some of the numerous channels

which we passed on our right, and which traverse, in their course

towards the sea, the northwestern part of Marajo. In the evening

of the 29th we arrived at a point where another channel joins the

Jaburu from the northeast. Up this the tide was flowing; we

turned westward, and thus met the flood coming from the Amazons.

This point is the object of a strange superstitious observance on

the part of the canoemen. It is said to be haunted by a Paje, or

Indian wizard, whom it is necessary to propitiate by depositing

some article on the spot, if the voyager wishes to secure a safe

return from the "sertao," as the interior of the country is

called. The trees were all hung with rags, shirts, straw hats,

bunches of fruit, and so forth. Although the superstition

doubtless originated with the aborigines, I observed in both my

voyages, that it was only the Portuguese and uneducated

Brazilians who deposited anything. The pure Indians gave nothing,

and treated the whole affair as a humbug; but they were all

civilised Tapuyos.

On the 30th, at 9 p.m., we reached a broad channel called Macaco,

and now left the dark, echoing Jaburu. The Macaco sends off

branches towards the northwest coast of Marajo. It is merely a

passage amongst a cluster of islands, between which a glimpse is

occasionally obtained of the broad waters of the main Amazons. A

brisk wind carried us rapidly past its monotonous scenery, and

early in the morning of the 1st of October we reached the

entrance of the Uituquara, or the Wind-hole, which is fifteen

miles distant from the end of the Jaburu. This is also a winding

channel, thirty-five miles in length, threading a group of

islands, but it is much narrower than the Macaco.

On emerging from the Uituquara on the 2nd, we all went ashore--

the men to fish in a small creek; Joao da Cunha and I to shoot

birds. We saw a flock of scarlet and blue macaws (Macrocercus

Macao) feeding on the fruits of a Bacaba palm, and looking like a

cluster of flaunting banners beneath its dark-green crown. We

landed about fifty yards from the place, and crept cautiously

through the forest, but before we reached them they flew off with

loud harsh screams. At a wild fruit tree we were more successful,

as my companion shot an anaca (Derotypus coronatus), one of the

most beautiful of the parrot family. It is of a green colour, and

has a hood of feathers, red bordered with blue, at the back of

its head, which it can elevate or depress at pleasure. The anaca

is the only new-world parrot which nearly resembles the cockatoo

of Australia. It is found in all the lowlands throughout the

Amazons region, but is not a common bird anywhere. Few persons

succeed in taming it, and I never saw one that had been taught to

speak. The natives are very fond of the bird nevertheless, and

keep it in their houses for the sake of seeing the irascible

creature expand its beautiful frill of feathers, which it readily

does when excited.

The men returned with a large quantity of fish. I was surprised

at the great variety of species; the prevailing kind was a

species of Loricaria, a foot in length, and wholly encased in

bony armour. It abounds at certain seasons in shallow water. The

flesh is dry, but very palatable. They brought also a small

alligator, which they called Jacare curua, and said it was a kind

found only in shallow creeks. It was not more than two feet in

length, although full-grown according to the statement of the

Indians, who said it was a "mai d'ovos," or mother of eggs, as

they had pillaged the nest, which they had found near the edge of

the water. The eggs were rather larger than a hen's, and

regularly oval in shape, presenting a rough hard surface of

shell. Unfortunately, the alligator was cut up ready for cooking

when we returned to the schooner, and I could not therefore make

a note of its peculiarities. The pieces were skewered and roasted

over the fire, each man being his own cook. I never saw this

species of alligator afterwards.

October 3rd--About midnight the wind, for which we had long been

waiting, sprang up; the men weighed anchor, and we were soon

fairly embarked on the Amazons. I rose long before sunrise to see

the great river by moonlight. There was a spanking breeze, and

the vessel was bounding gaily over the waters. The channel along

which we were sailing was only a narrow arm of the river, about

two miles in width: the total breadth at this point is more than

twenty miles, but the stream is divided into three parts by a

series of large islands. The river, notwithstanding this

limitation of its breadth, had a most majestic appearance. It did

not present that lake-like aspect which the waters of the Para

and Tocantins affect, but had all the swing, so to speak, of a

vast flowing stream. The ochre-coloured turbid waters offered

also a great contrast to the rivers belonging to the Para system.

The channel formed a splendid reach, sweeping from southwest to

northeast, with a horizon of water and sky both upstream and

down. At 11 a.m. we arrived at Gurupa, a small village situated

on a rocky bank thirty or forty feet high. Here we landed, and I

had an opportunity of rambling in the neighbouring woods, which

are intersected by numerous pathways, and carpeted with Lycopodia

growing to a height of eight or ten inches, and enlivened by

numbers of glossy blue butterflies of the Theclidae or hairstreak

family. At 5 p.m. we were again under way. Soon after sunset, as

we were crossing the mouth of the Xingu, the first of the great

tributaries of the Amazons, 1200 miles in length, a black cloud

arose suddenly in the northeast. Joao da Cunha ordered all sails

to be taken in, and immediately afterwards a furious squall burst

forth, tearing the waters into foam, and producing a frightful

uproar in the neighbouring forests. A drenching rain followed,

but in half an hour all was again calm and the full moon appeared

sailing in a cloudless sky.

From the mouth of the Xingu the route followed by vessels leads

straight across the river, here ten miles broad. Towards midnight

the wind failed us, when we were close to a large shoal called

the Baixo Grande. We lay here becalmed in the sickening heat for

two days, and when the trade-wind recommenced with the rising

moon at 10 p.m. on the 6th, we found ourselves on a ice-shore.

Notwithstanding all the efforts of our pilot to avoid it, we ran

aground. Fortunately the bottom consisted only of soft mud, so

that by casting anchor to windward, and hauling in with the whole

strength of crew and passengers, we got off after spending an

uncomfortable night. We rounded the point of the shoal in two

fathoms' water; the head of the vessel was then put westward, and

by sunrise we were bounding forward before a steady breeze, all

sail set and everybody in good humour.

The weather was now delightful for several days in succession,

the air transparently clear, and the breeze cool and

invigorating. At daylight, on the 6th, a chain of blue hills, the

Serra de Almeyrim, appeared in the distance on the north bank of

the river. The sight was most exhilarating after so long a

sojourn in a flat country. We kept to the southern shore, passing

in the course of the day the mouths of the Urucuricaya and the

Aquiqui, two channels which communicate with the Xingu. The whole

of this southern coast hence to near Santarem, a distance of 130

miles, is lowland and quite uninhabited. It is intersected by

short arms or back waters of the Amazons, which are called in the

Tupi language Paranamirims, or little rivers. By keeping to

these, small canoes can travel a great part of the distance

without being much exposed to the heavy seas of the main river.

The coast throughout has a most desolate aspect; the forest is

not so varied as on the higher land; and the water-frontage,

which is destitute of the green mantle of climbing plants that

form so rich a decoration in other parts, is encumbered at every

step with piles of fallen trees; and peopled by white egrets,

ghostly storks, and solitary herons.

In the evening we passed Almeyrim. The hills, according to Von

Martius, who landed here, are about 800 feet above the level of

the river, and are thickly wooded to the summit. They commence on

the east by a few low isolated and rounded elevations; but

towards the west of the village, they assume the appearance of

elongated ridges which seem as if they had been planed down to a

uniform height by some external force. The next day we passed in

succession a series of similar flat-topped hills, some isolated

and of a truncated-pyramidal shape, others prolonged to a length

of several miles. There is an interval of low country between

these and the Almeyrim range, which has a total length of about

twenty-five miles; then commences abruptly the Serra de

Marauaqua, which is succeeded in a similar way by the Velha Pobre

range, the Serras de Tapaiuna-quara, and Paraua-quara. All these

form a striking contrast to the Serra de Almeyrim in being quite

destitute of trees. They have steep rugged sides, apparently

clothed with short herbage, but here and there exposing bare

white patches. Their total length is about forty miles. In the

Tear, towards the interior, they are succeeded by other ranges of

hills communicating with the central mountain-chain of Guiana,

which divides Brazil from Cayenne.

As we sailed along the southern shore, during the 6th and two

following days, the table-topped hills on the opposite side

occupied most of our attention. The river is from four to five

miles broad, and in some places long, low wooded islands

intervene in mid-stream, whose light-green, vivid verdure formed

a strangely beautiful foreground to the glorious landscape of

broad stream and grey mountain. Ninety miles beyond Almeyrim

stands the village of Monte Alegre, which is built near the

summit of the last hill visible of this chain. At this point the

river bends a little towards the south, and the hilly country

recedes from its shores to reappear at Obydos, greatly decreased

in height, about a hundred miles further west.

We crossed the river three times between Monte Alegre and the

next town, Santarem. In the middle the waves ran very high, and

the vessel lurched fearfully, hurling everything that was not

well secured from one side of the deck to the other. On the

morning of the 9th of October, a gentle wind carried us along a

"remanso," or still water, under the southern shore. These tracts

of quiet water are frequent on the irregular sides of the stream,

and are the effect of counter movements caused by the rapid

current of its central parts. At 9 a.m. we passed the mouth of a

Parana-mirim, called Mahica, and then found a sudden change in

the colour of the water and aspect of the banks. Instead of the

low and swampy water-frontage which had prevailed from the mouth

of the Xingu, we saw before us a broad sloping beach of white

sand. The forest, instead of being an entangled mass of irregular

and rank vegetation as hitherto, presented a rounded outline, and

created an impresssion of repose that was very pleasing. We now

approached, in fact, the mouth of the Tapajos, whose clear olive-

green waters here replaced the muddy current against which we had

so long been sailing. Although this is a river of great extent--

1000 miles in length, and, for the last eighty miles of its

course, four to ten in breadth--its contribution to the Amazons

is not perceptible in the middle of the stream. The white turbid

current of the main river flows disdainfully by, occupying nearly

the whole breadth of the channel, while the darker water of its

tributary seems to creep along the shore, and is no longer

distinguishable four or five miles from its mouth.

We reached Santarem at 11 a.m. The town has a clean and cheerful

appearance from the river. It consists of three long streets,

with a few short ones crossing them at right angles, and contains

about 2500 inhabitants. It lies just within the mouth of Tapajos,

and is divided into two parts, the town and the aldeia or

village. The houses of the white and trading classes are

substantially built, many being of two and three stories, and all

white-washed and tiled. The aldeia, which contains the Indian

portion of the population, or did so formerly, consists mostly of

mud huts, thatched with palm leaves. The situation of the town is

very beautiful. The land, although but slightly elevated, does

not form, strictly speaking, a portion of the alluvial river

plains of the Amazons, but is rather a northern prolongation of

the Brazilian continental land. It is scantily wooded, and

towards the interior consists of undulating campos, which are

connected with a series of hills extending southward as far as

the eye can reach. I subsequently made this place my head-

quarters for three years; an account of its neighbourhood is

therefore, reserved for another chapter. At the first sight of

Santarem, one cannot help being struck with the advantages of its

situation. Although 400 miles from the sea, it is accessible to

vessels of heavy tonnage coming straight from the Atlantic. The

river has only two slight bends between this port and the sea,

and for five or six months in the year the Amazonian trade wind

blows with very little interruption, so that sailing ships coming

from foreign countries could reach the place with little

difficulty. We ourselves had accomplished 200 miles, or about

half the distance from the sea, in an ill-rigged vessel, in three

days and a half. Although the land in the immediate neighbourhood

is perhaps ill adapted for agriculture, an immense tract of rich

soil, with forest and meadowland, lies on the opposite banks of

the river, and the Tapajos leads into the heart of the mining

provinces of interior Brazil. But where is the population to come

from to develop the resources of this fine country? At present,

the district within a radius of twenty-five miles contains barely

6500 inhabitants; behind the town, towards the interior, the

country is uninhabited, and jaguars roam nightly, at least in the

rainy season, close up to the ends of the suburban streets.

From information obtained here, I fixed upon the next town,

Obydos, as the best place to stay for a few weeks, in order to

investigate the natural productions of the north side of the

Lower Amazons. We started at sunrise on the 10th, and being still

favoured by wind and weather, made a pleasant passage, reaching

Obydos, which is nearly fifty miles distant from Santarem, by

midnight. We sailed all day close to the southern shore, and

found the banks here and there dotted with houses of settlers,

each surrounded by its plantation of cacao, which is the staple

product of the district. This coast has an evil reputation for

storms and mosquitoes, but we fortunately escaped both. It was

remarkable that we had been troubled by mosquitoes only on one

night, and then to a small degree, during the whole of our

voyage.

I landed at Obydos the next morning, and then bid adieu to my

kind friend Joao da Cunha, who, after landing my baggage, got up

his anchor and continued on his way. The town contains about 1200

inhabitants, and is airily situated on a high bluff, ninety or a

hundred feet above the level of the river. The coast is

precipitous for two or three miles hence to the west. The cliffs

consist of the parti-coloured clay, or Tabatinga, which occurs so

frequently throughout the Amazons region; the strong current of

the river sets full against them in the season of high water, and

annually carries away large portions. The clay in places is

stratified alternately pink and yellow, the pink beds being the

thickest and of much harder texture than the others.

When I descended the river in 1859, a German Major of Engineers,

in the employ of the Government, told me that he had found

calcareous layers, thickly studded with marine shells

interstratified with the clay. On the top of the Tabatinga lies a

bed of sand, in some places several feet thick, and the whole

formation rests on strata of sandstone, which are exposed only

when the river reaches its lowest level. Behind the town rises a

fine rounded hill, and a range of similar elevations extends six

miles westward, terminating at the mouth of the Trombetas, a

large river flowing through the interior of Guiana. Hills and

lowlands alike are covered with a sombre rolling forest. The

river here is contracted to a breadth of rather less than a mile

(1738 yards), and the entire volume of its waters, the collective

product of a score of mighty streams, is poured through the

strait with tremendous velocity. It must be remarked, however,

that the river valley itself is not contracted to this breadth,

the opposite shore not being continental land, but a low alluvial

tract, subject to inundation more or less in the rainy season.

Behind it lies an extensive lake, called the Lago Grande da Villa

Franca, which communicates with the Amazons, both above and below

Obydos, and has therefore, the appearance of a by-water or an old

channel of the river. This lake is about thirty-five miles in

length, and from four to ten in width; but its waters are of

little depth, and in the dry season its dimensions are much

lessened. It has no perceptible current, and does not therefore,

now divert any portion of the waters of the Amazons from their

main course past Obydos.

I remained at Obydos from the 11th of October to the 19th of

November. I spent three weeks here, also, in 1859, when the place

was much changed through the influx of Portuguese immigrants and

the building of a fortress on the top of the bluff. It is one of

the pleasantest towns on the river. The houses are all roofed

with tiles, and are mostly of substantial architecture. The

inhabitants, at least at the time of my first visit, were naive

in their ways, kind and sociable. Scarcely any palm-thatched huts

are to be seen, for very few Indians now reside here. It was one

of the early settlements of the Portuguese, and the better class

of the population consists of old-established white families, who

exhibit however, in some cases, traces of cross with the Indian

and negro. Obydos and Santarem have received, during the last

eighty years, considerable importations of negro slaves; before

that time, a cruel traffic was carried on in Indians for the same

purpose of forced servitude, but their numbers have gradually

dwindled away, and Indians now form an insignificant element in

the population of the district.

Most of the Obydos townsfolk are owners of cacao plantations,

which are situated on the low lands in the vicinity. Some are

large cattle proprietors, and possess estates of many square

leagues' extent in the campo, or grass-land districts, which

border the Lago Grande, and other similar inland lakes, near the

villages of Faro and Alemquer. These campos bear a crop of

nutritious grass; but in certain seasons, when the rising of the

Amazons exceeds the average, they are apt to be flooded, and then

the large herds of half wild cattle suffer great mortality from

drowning, hunger, and alligators. Neither in cattle-keeping nor

cacao-growing are any but the laziest and most primitive methods

followed, and the consequence is that the proprietors are

generally poor. A few, however, have become rich by applying a

moderate amount of industry and skill to the management of their

estates. People spoke of several heiresses in the neighbourhood

whose wealth was reckoned in oxen and slaves; a dozen slaves and

a few hundred head of cattle being considered a great fortune.

Some of them I saw had already been appropriated by enterprising

young men, who had come from Para and Maranham to seek their

fortunes in this quarter.

The few weeks I spent here passed away pleasantly. I generally

spent the evenings in the society of the townspeople, who

associated together (contrary to Brazilian custom) in European

fashion; the different families meeting at one another's houses

for social amusement, bachelor friends not being excluded, and

the whole company, married and single, joining in simple games.

The meetings used to take place in the sitting-rooms, and not in

the open verandas--a fashion almost compulsory on account of the

mosquitoes; but the evenings here are very cool, and the

closeness of a room is not so much felt as it is in Para. Sunday

was strictly observed at Obydos--at least all the shops were

closed, and almost the whole population went to church. The

Vicar, Padre Raimundo do Sanchez Brito, was an excellent old man,

and I fancy the friendly manners of the people, and the general

purity of morals at Obydos, were owing in great part to the good

example he set to his parishioners.

The forest at Obydos seemed to abound in monkeys, for I rarely

passed a day without seeing several. I noticed four species: the

Coaita (Ateles paniscus), the Chrysothrix sciureus, the

Callithrix torquatus, and our old Para friend, Midas ursulus. The

Coaita is a large black monkey, covered with coarse hair, and

having the prominent parts of the face of a tawny flesh-coloured

hue. It is the largest of the Amazonian monkeys in stature, but

is excelled in bulk by the "Barrigudo" (Lagothrix Humboldtii) of

the Upper Amazons. It occurs throughout the lowlands of the Lower

and Upper Amazons, but does not range to the south beyond the

limits of the river plains. At that point an allied species, the

White-whiskered Coaita (Ateles marginatus) takes its place. The

Coaitas are called by zoologists spider monkeys, on account of

the length and slenderness of their body and limbs. In these apes

the tail, as a prehensile organ, reaches its highest degree of

perfection; and on this account it would, perhaps, be correct to

consider the Coaitas as the extreme development of the American

type of apes. As far as we know, from living and fossil species,

the New World has progressed no farther than the Coaita towards

the production of a higher form of the Quadrumanous order. The

tendency of Nature here has been, to all appearance, simply to

perfect those organs which adapt the species more and more

completely to a purely arboreal life; and no nearer approach has

been made towards the more advanced forms of anthropoid apes,

which are the products of the Old World solely. The flesh of this

monkey is much esteemed by the natives in this part of the

country, and the Military Commandant of Obydos, Major Gama, every

week sent a negro hunter to shoot one for his table. One day I

went on a Coaita hunt, borrowing a negro slave of a friend to

show me the way. When in the deepest part of a ravine we heard a

rustling sound in the trees overheard, and Manoel soon pointed

out a Coaita to me. There was something human-like in its

appearance, as the lean, dark, shaggy creature moved deliberately

amongst the branches at a great height. I fired, but

unfortunately only wounded it in the belly. It fell with a crash

headlong about twenty or thirty feet, and then caught a bough

with its tail, which grasped it instantaneously, and then the

animal remained suspended in mid-air. Before I could reload, it

recovered itself and mounted nimbly to the topmost branches out

of the reach of a fowling-piece, where we could perceive the poor

thing apparently probing the wound with its fingers.

Coaitas are more frequently kept in a tame state than any other

kind of monkey. The Indians are very fond of them as pets, and

the women often suckle them when young at their breasts. They

become attached to their masters, and will sometimes follow them

on the ground to considerable distances. I once saw a most

ridiculously tame Coaita. It was an old female which accompanied

its owner, a trader on the river, in all his voyages. By way of

giving me a specimen of its intelligence and feeling, its master

set to and rated it soundly, calling it scamp, heathen, thief,

and so forth, all through the copious Portuguese vocabulary of

vituperation. The poor monkey, quietly seated on the ground,

seemed to be in sore trouble at this display of anger. It began

by looking earnestly at him, then it whined, and lastly rocked

its body to and fro with emotion, crying piteously, and passing

its long gaunt arms continually over its forehead; for this was

its habit when excited, and the front of the head was worn quite

bald in consequence. At length its master altered his tone. "It's

all a lie, my old woman; you're an angel, a flower, a good

affectionate old creature," and so forth. Immediately the poor

monkey ceased its wailing, and soon after came over to where the

man sat. The disposition of the Coaita is mild in the extreme--

it has none of the painful, restless vivacity of its kindred, the

Cebi, and no trace of the surly, untameable temper of its still

nearer relatives, the Mycetes, or howling monkeys. It is,

however, an arrant thief, and shows considerable cunning in

pilfering small articles of clothing, which it conceals in its

sleeping place. The natives of the Upper Amazons procure the

Coaita, when full grown, by shooting it with the blowpipe and

poisoned darts, and restoring life by putting a little salt (the

antidote to the Urari poison with which the darts are tipped) in

its mouth. The animals thus caught become tame forthwith. Two

females were once kept at the Jardin des Plantes of Paris, and

Geoffroy St. Hilaire relates of them that they rarely quitted

each other, remaining most of the time in close embrace, folding

their tails around one another's bodies. They took their meals

together; and it was remarked on such occasions, when the

friendship of animals is put to a hard test, that they never

quarrelled or disputed the possession of a favourite fruit with

each other.

The neighbourhood of Obydos was rich also in insects. In the

broad alleys of the forest a magnificent butterfly of the genus

Morpho, six to eight inches in expanse, the Morpho Hecuba, was

seen daily gliding along at a height of twenty feet or more from

the ground. Amongst the lower trees and bushes numerouskinds of

Heliconii, a group of butterflies peculiar to tropical America,

having long narrow wings, were very abundant. The prevailing

ground colour of the wings of these insects is a deep black, and

on this are depicted spots and streaks of crimson, white, and

bright yellow, in different patterns according to the species.

Their elegant shape, showy colours, and slow, sailing mode of

flight, make them very attractive objects, and their numbers are

so great that they form quite a feature in the physiognomy of the

forest, compensating for the scarcity of flowers.

Next to the Heliconii, the Catagrammas (C. astarte and C.

peristera) were the most conspicuous. These have a very rapid and

short flight, settling frequently and remaining stationary for a

long time on the trunks of trees. The colours of their wings are

vermilion and black, the surface having a rich velvety

appearance. The genus owes its Greek name Catagramma (signifying

"a letter beneath") to the curious markings of the underside of

the wings, resembling Arabic numerals. The species and varieties

are of almost endless diversity, but the majority inhabit the hot

valleys of the eastern parts of the Andes. Another butterfly

nearly allied to these, Callithea Leprieurii, was also very

abundant here at the marshy head of the pool before mentioned.

The wings are of a rich dark-blue colour, with a broad border of

silvery green. These two groups of Callithea and Catagramma are

found only in tropical America, chiefly near the equator, and are

certainly amongst the most beautiful productions of a region

where the animals and plants seem to have been fashioned in

nature's choicest moulds.

A great variety of other beautiful and curious insects adorned

these pleasant woods. Others were seen only in the sunshine in

open places. As the waters retreated from the beach, vast numbers

of sulphur-yellow and orange coloured butterflies congregated on

the moist sand. The greater portion of them belonged to the genus

Callidryas. They assembled in densely-packed masses, sometimes

two or three yards in circumference, their wings all held in an

upright position, so that the beach looked as though variegated

with beds of crocuses. These Callidryades seem to be migratory

insects, and have large powers of dissemination. During the last

two days of our voyage, the great numbers constantly passing over

the river attracted the attention of every one on board. They all

crossed in one direction, namely, from north to south, and the

processions were uninterrupted from an early hour in the morning

until sunset. All the individuals which resort to the margins of

sandy beaches are of the male sex. The females are much more

rare, and are seen only on the borders of the forest, wandering

from tree to tree, and depositing their eggs on low mimosas which

grow in the shade. The migrating hordes, as far as I could

ascertain, are composed only of males, and on this account I

believe their wanderings do not extend very far.

A strange kind of wood-cricket is found in this neighbourhood,

the males of which produce a very loud and not unmusical noise by

rubbing together the overlapping edges of their wing-cases. The

notes are certainly the loudest and most extraordinary that I

ever heard produced by an orthopterous insect. The natives call

it the Tanana, in allusion to its music, which is a sharp,

resonant stridulation resembling the syllables ta-na-na, ta-na-

na, succeeding each other with little intermission. It seems to

be rare in the neighbourhood. When the natives capture one, they

keep it in a wicker-work cage for the sake of hearing it sing. A

friend of mine kept one six days. It was lively only for two or

three, and then its loud note could be heard from one end of the

village to the other. When it died he gave me the specimen, the

only one I was able to procure. It is a member of the family

Locustidae, a group intermediate between the Cricket (Achetidae)

and the Grasshoppers (Acridiidae). The total length of the body

is two inches and a quarter; when the wings are closed the insect

has an inflated vesicular or bladder-like shape, owing to the

great convexity of the thin but firm parchmenty wing-cases, and

the colour is wholly pale-green. The instrument by which the

Tanana produces its music is curiously contrived out of the

ordinary nervures of the wing-cases. In each wing-case the inner

edge, near its origin, has a horny expansion or lobe; on one wing

(b) this lobe has sharp raised margins; on the other (a), the

strong nervure which traverses the lobe on the under side is

crossed by a number of fine sharp furrows like those of a file.

When the insect rapidly moves its wings, the file of the one lobe

is scraped sharply across the horny margin of the other, thus

producing the sounds; the parchmenty wing-cases and the hollow

drum-like space which they enclose assist in giving resonance to

the tones. The projecting portions of both wing-cases are

traversed by a similar strong nervure, but this is scored like a

file only in one of them, in the other remaining perfectly

smooth.

Other species of the family to which the Tanana belongs have

similar stridulating organs, but in none are these so highly

developed as in this insect; they exist always in the males only,

the other sex having the edges of the wing-cases quite straight

and simple. The mode of producing the sounds and their object

have been investigated by several authors with regard to certain

European species. They are the call-notes of the males. In the

common field-cricket of Europe the male has been observed to

place itself, in the evening, at the entrance of its burrow, and

stridulate until a female approaches, when the louder notes are

succeeded by a more subdued tone, while the successful musician

caresses with his antennae the mate he has won. Anyone who will

take the trouble may observe a similar proceeding in the common

house-cricket. The nature and object of this insect music are

more uniform than the structure and situation of the instrument

by which it is produced. This differs in each of the three allied

families above mentioned. In the crickets the wing-cases are

symmetrical; both have straight edges and sharply-scored nervures

adapted to produce the stridulation. A distinct portion of their

edges is not, therefore, set apart for the elaboration of a

sound-producing instrument. In this family the wing-cases lie

flat on the back of the insect, and overlap each other for a

considerable portion of their extent. In the Locustidae the same

members have a sloping position on each side of the body, and do

not overlap, except to a small extent near their bases; it is out

of this small portion that the stridulating organ is contrived.

Greater resonance is given in most species by a thin transparent

plate, covered by a membrane, in the centre of the overlapping

lobes. In the Grasshoppers (Acridiidae) the wing-cases meet in a

straight suture, and the friction of portions of their edges is

no longer possible. But Nature exhibits the same fertility of

resource here as elsewhere; and in contriving other methods of

supplying the males with an instrument for the production of

call-notes indicates the great importance which she attaches to

this function. The music in the males of the Acridiidae is

produced by the scraping of the long hind thighs against the

horny nervures of the outer edges of the wing-cases; a drum-

shaped organ placed in a cavity near the insertion of the thighs

being adapted to give resonance to the tones.

I obtained very few birds at Obydos. There was no scarcity of

birds, but they were mostly common Cayenne species. In early

morning, the woods near my house were quite animated with their

songs--an unusual thing in this country. I heard here for the

first time the pleasing wild notes of the Carashue, a species of

thrush, probably the Mimus lividus of ornithologists. I found it

afterwards to be a common bird in the scattered woods of the

campo district near Santarem. It is a much smaller and plainer-

coloured bird than our thrush, and its song is not so loud,

varied, or so long sustained; but the tone is of a sweet and

plaintive quality, which harmonises well with the wild and silent

woodlands, where alone it is heard in the mornings and evenings

of sultry tropical days. In course of time the song of this

humble thrush stirred up pleasing associations in my mind, in the

same way as those of its more highly endowed sisters formerly did

at home. There are several allied species in Brazil; in the

southern provinces they are called Sabiahs. The Brazilians are

not insensible to the charms of this their best songster, for I

often heard some pretty verses in praise of the Sabiah sung by

young people to the accompaniment of the guitar.

I found several times the nest of the Carashue, which is built of

dried grass and slender twigs, and lined with mud; the eggs are

coloured and spotted like those of our blackbird, but they are

considerably smaller. I was much pleased with a brilliant little

red-headed mannikin, which I shot here (Pipra cornuta). There

were three males seated on a low branch, and hopping slowly

backwards and forwards, near to one another, as though engaged in

a kind of dance. In the pleasant airy woods surrounding the sandy

shores of the pool behind the town, the yellow-bellied Trogon (T.

viridis) was very common. Its back is of a brilliant metallic-

green colour, and the breast steel blue. The natives call it the

Suruqua do Ygapo, or Trogon of the flooded lands, in

contradistinction to the red-breasted species, which are named

Surtiquas da terra firma. I often saw small companies of half a

dozen individuals quietly seated on the lower branches of trees.

They remained almost motionless for an hour or two at a time,

simply moving their heads, on the watch for passing insects; or,

as seemed more generally to be the case, scanning the

neighbouring trees for fruit, which they darted off now and then,

at long intervals to secure, returning always to the same perch.

CHAPTER VII

THE LOWER AMAZONS--OBYDOS TO MANAOS, OR THE BARRA OF THE RIO

NEGRO

Departure from Obydos--River Banks and By-channels--Cacao

Planters--Daily Life on Board Our Vessel--Great Storm--Sand-

Island and Its Birds--Hill of Parentins--Negro Trader and Mauhes

Indians--Villa Nova: Its Inhabitants, Forest, and Animal

Productions--Cararaucu--A rustic Festival--Lake of Cararaucu--

Motuca--Flies--Serpa--Christmas Holidays--River Madeira--A

Mameluco Farmer--Mura Indians--Rio Negro--Description of Barra--

Descent to Para--Yellow Fever

A Trader of Obydos, named Penna, was proceeding about in a

cuberta laden with merchandise to the Rio Negro, intending to

stop frequently on the road, so I bargained with him for a

passage. He gave up a part of the toldo, or fore-cabin as it may

be called, and here I slung my hammock and arranged my boxes so

as to be able to work as we went along. The stoppages I thought

would be an advantage, as I could collect in the woods whilst he

traded, and thus acquire a knowledge of the productions of many

places on the river which on a direct voyage would be impossible

to do. I provided a stock of groceries for two months'

consumption; and, after the usual amount of unnecessary fuss and

delay on the part of the owner, we started on the 19th of

November. Penna took his family with him-- this comprised a

smart, lively mameluco woman, named Catarina, whom we called

Senora Katita, and two children. The crew consisted of three men:

one a sturdy Indian, another a Cafuzo, godson of Penna, and the

third, our best hand, a steady, good-natured mulatto, named

Joaquim. My boy Luco was to assist in rowing and so forth. Penna

was a timid middle-aged man, a white with a slight cross of

Indian; when he was surly and obstinate, he used to ask me to

excuse him on account of the Tapuyo blood in his veins. He tried

to make me as comfortable as the circumstances admitted, and

provided a large stock of eatables and drinkables; so that

altogether the voyage promised to be a pleasant one.

On leaving the port of Obydos, we crossed over to the right bank

and sailed with a light wind all day, passing numerous houses,

each surrounded by its grove of cacao trees. On the 20th we made

slow progress. After passing the high land at the mouth of the

Trombetas, the banks were low, clayey, or earthy on both sides.

The breadth of the river varies hereabout from two and a half to

three miles, but neither coast is the true terra firma. On the

northern side a by-channel runs for a long distance inland,

communicating with the extensive lake of Faro; on the south,

three channels lead to the similar fresh-water sea of Villa

Franca; these are in part arms of the river, so that the land

they surround consists, properly speaking, of islands. When this

description of land is not formed wholly of river deposit, as

sometimes happens, or is raised above the level of the highest

floods, it is called Ygapo alto, and is distinguished by the

natives from the true islands of mid-river, as well as from the

terra firma. We landed at one of the cacao plantations. The house

was substantially built; the walls formed of strong upright

posts, lathed across, plastered with mud and whitewashed, and the

roof tiled. The family were mamelucos, and seemed to be an

average sample of the poorer class of cacao growers. All were

loosely dressed and bare-footed. A broad verandah extended along

one side of the house, the floor of which was simply the well-

trodden earth; and here hammocks were slung between the bare

upright supports, a large rush mat being spread on the ground,

upon which the stout matron-like mistress, with a tame parrot

perched upon her shoulder, sat sewing with two pretty little

mulatto girls. The master, coolly clad in shirt and drawers, the

former loose about the neck, lay in his hammock smoking a long

gaudily-painted wooden pipe. The household utensils, earthenware

jars, water-pots and saucepans lay at one end, near which was a

wood fire, with the ever-ready coffee-pot simmering on the top of

a clay tripod. A large shed stood a short distance off, embowered

in a grove of banana, papaw, and mango trees; and under it were

the ovens, troughs, sieves, and all other apparatus for the

preparation of mandioca. The cleared space around the house was

only a few yards in extent; beyond it lay the cacao plantations,

which stretched on each side parallel to the banks of the river.

There was a path through the forest which led to the mandioca

fields, and several miles beyond to other houses on the banks of

an interior channel. We were kindly received, as is always the

case when a stranger visits these out-of-the-way habitations--

the people being invariably civil and hospitable. We had a long

chat, took coffee, and upon departing, one of the daughters sent

a basket full of oranges for our use down to the canoe.

The cost of a cacao plantation in the Obydos district is after

the rate of 240 reis or sixpence per tree, which is much higher

than at Cameta, where I believe the yield is not so great. The

forest here is cleared before planting, and the trees are grown

in rows. The smaller cultivators are all very poor. Labour is

scarce; one family generally manages its own small plantation of

10,000 to 15,000 trees, but at the harvest time neighbours assist

each other. It appeared to me to be an easy, pleasant life; the

work is all done under shade, and occupies only a few weeks in

the year. The incorrigible nonchalance and laziness of the people

alone prevent them from surrounding themselves with all the

luxuries of a tropical country. They might plant orchards of the

choicest fruit trees around their houses, grow Indian corn, and

rear cattle and hogs, as intelligent settlers from Europe would

certainly do, instead of indolently relying solely on the produce

of their small plantations, and living on a meagre diet of fish

and farinha. In preparing the cacao they have not devised any

means of separating the seeds well from the pulp, or drying it in

a systematic way; the consequence is that, although naturally of

good quality, it molds before reaching the merchants' stores, and

does not fetch more than half the price of the same article grown

in other parts of tropical America. The Amazons region is the

original home of the principal species of chocolate tree, the

Theobroma cacao; and it grows in abundance in the forests of the

upper river. The cultivated crop appears to be a precarious one;

little or no care, however, is bestowed on the trees, and even

weeding is done very inefficiently. The plantations are generally

old, and have been made on the low ground near the river, which

renders them liable to inundation when this rises a few inches

more than the average. There is plenty of higher land quite

suitable to the tree, but it is uncleared, and the want of labour

and enterprise prevents the establishment of new plantations.

We passed the last houses in the Obydos district on the 20th, and

the river scenery then resumed its usual wild and solitary

character, which the scattered human habitations relieved,

although in a small degree. We soon fell into a regular mode of

life on board our little ark. Penna would not travel by night;

indeed, our small crew, wearied by the day's labour, required

rest, and we very rarely had wind in the night. We used to moor

the vessel to a tree, giving out plenty of cable, so as to sleep

at a distance from the banks and free of mosquitoes, which

although swarming in the forest, rarely came many yards out into

the river at this season of the year. The strong current at a

distance of thirty or forty yards from the coast steadied the

cuberta head to stream, and kept us from drifting ashore. We all

slept in the open air, as the heat of the cabins was stifling in

the early part of the night. Penna, Senhora Katita, and I slung

our hammocks in triangle between the mainmast and two stout poles

fixed in the raised deck. A sheet was the only covering required,

besides our regular clothing, for the decrease of temperature at

night on the Amazons is never so great as to be felt otherwise

than as a delightful coolness after the sweltering heat of the

afternoons.

We used to rise when the first gleam of dawn showed itself above

the long, dark line of forest. Our clothes and hammocks were then

generally soaked with dew, but this was not felt to be an

inconvenience. The Indian Manoel used to revive himself by a

plunge in the river, under the bows of the vessel. It is the

habit of all Indians, male and female, to bathe early in the

morning; they do it sometimes for warmth's sake, the temperature

of the water being often considerably higher than that of the

air. Penna and I lolled in our hammocks, while Katita prepared

the indispensable cup of strong coffee, which she did with

wonderful celerity, smoking meanwhile her early morning pipe of

tobacco. Liberal owners of river craft allow a cup of coffee

sweetened with molasses, or a ration of cashaca, to each man of

their crews; Penna gave them coffee. When all were served, the

day's work began. There was seldom any wind at this early hour,

so if there was still water along the shore, the men rowed, if

not, there was no way of progressing but by espia.

In some places the currents ran with great force close to the

banks, especially where these receded to form long bays or

enseadas, as they are called, and then we made very little

headway. In such places the banks consist of loose earth, a rich

crumbly vegetable mold supporting a growth of most luxuriant

forest, of which the currents almost daily carry away large

portions, so that the stream for several yards out is encumbered

with fallen trees whose branches quiver in the current. When

projecting points of land were encountered, it was impossible,

with our weak crew, to pull the cuberta against the whirling

torrents which set round them; and in such cases we had to cross

the river, drifting often with the current, a mile or two lower

down on the opposite shore. There generally sprung a light wind

as the day advanced, and then we took down our hammocks, hoisted

all sail, and bowled away merrily. Penna generally preferred to

cook the dinner ashore, when there was little or no wind. About

midday on these calm days, we used to look out for a nice shady

nook in the forest with cleared space sufficient to make a fire

upon. I then had an hour's hunting in the neighbouring

wilderness, and was always rewarded by the discovery of some new

species. During the greater part of our voyage, however, we

stopped at the house of some settler, and made our fire in the

port. Just before dinner it was our habit to take a bath in the

river, and then, according to the universal custom on the

Amazons, where it seems to be suitable on account of the weak

fish diet, we each took half a tea-cup full of neat cashaca, the

"abre" or " opening," as it is called, and set to on our mess of

stewed pirarucu, beans, and bacon. Once or twice a week we had

fowls and rice; at supper, after sunset, we often had fresh fish

caught by our men in the evening. The mornings were cool and

pleasant until towards midday; but in the afternoons, the heat

became almost intolerable, especially in gleamy, squally weather,

such as generally prevailed. We then crouched in the shade of the

sails, or went down to our hammocks in the cabin, choosing to be

half stifled rather than expose ourselves on deck to the

sickening heat of the sun.

We generally ceased travelling about nine o'clock, fixing upon a

safe spot wherein to secure the vessel for the night. The cool

evening hours were delicious; flocks of whistling ducks (Anas

autumnalis), parrots, and hoarsely-screaming macaws, pair by

pair, flew over from their feeding to their resting places, as

the glowing sun plunged abruptly beneath the horizon. The brief

evening chorus of animals then began, the chief performers being

the howling monkeys, whose frightful unearthly roar deepened the

feeling of solitude which crept up as darkness closed around us.

Soon after, the fireflies in great diversity of species came

forth and flitted about the trees. As night advanced, all became

silent in the forest, save the occasional hooting of tree-frogs,

or the monotonous chirping of wood-crickets and grasshoppers.

We made but little progress on the 20th and two following days,

on account of the unsteadiness of the wind. The dry season had

been of very brief duration this year; it generally lasts in this

part of the Amazons from July to January, with a short interval

of showery weather in November. The river ought to sink thirty or

thirty-five feet below its highest point; this year it had

declined only about twenty-five feet, and the November rains

threatened to be continuous. The drier the weather the stronger

blows the east wind; it now failed us altogether, or blew gently

for a few hours merely in the afternoons. I had hitherto seen the

great river only in its sunniest aspect; I was now about to

witness what it could furnish in the way of storms.

On the night of the 22nd the moon appeared with a misty halo. As

we went to rest, a fresh watery wind was blowing, and a dark pile

of clouds gathered up river in a direction opposite to that of

the wind. I thought this betokened nothing more than a heavy rain

which would send us all in a hurry to our cabins. The men moored

the vessel to a tree alongside a hard clayey bank, and after

supper, all were soon fast asleep, scattered about the raised

deck. About eleven o'clock I was awakened by a horrible uproar,

as a hurricane of wind suddenly swept over from the opposite

shore. The cuberta was hurled with force against the clayey bank;

Penna shouted out, as he started to his legs, that a trovoada de

cima, or a squall from up-river, was upon us. We took down our

hammocks, and then all hands were required to save the vessel

from being dashed to pieces. The moon set, and a black pall of

clouds spread itself over the dark forests and river; a frightful

crack of thunder now burst over our heads, and down fell the

drenching rain. Joaquim leapt ashore through the drowning spray

with a strong pole, and tried to pass the cuberta round a small

projecting point, while we on deck aided in keeping her off and

lengthened the cable. We succeeded in getting free, and the

stout-built boat fell off into the strong current farther away

from the shore, Joaquim swinging himself dexterously aboard by

the bowsprit as it passed the point. It was fortunate for us that

he happened to be on a sloping clayey bank where there was no

fear of falling trees; a few yards farther on, where the shore

was perpendicular and formed of crumbly earth, large portions of

loose soil, with all their superincumbent mass of forest, were

being washed away; the uproar thus occasioned adding to the

horrors of the storm.

The violence of the wind abated in the course of an hour, but the

deluge of rain continued until about three o'clock in the

morning; the sky was lighted up by almost incessant flashes of

pallid lightning, and the thunder pealing from side to side

without interruption. Our clothing, hammocks, and goods were

thoroughly soaked by the streams of water which trickled through

between the planks. In the morning all was quiet, but an opaque,

leaden mass of clouds overspread the sky, throwing a gloom over

the wild landscape that had a most dispiriting effect. These

squalls from the west are always expected about the time of the

breaking up of the dry season in these central parts of the Lower

Amazons. They generally take place about the beginning of

February, so that this year they had commenced much earlier than

usual. The soil and climate are much drier in this part of the

country than in the region lying farther to the west, where the

denser forests and more clayey, humid soil produce a considerably

cooler atmosphere. The storms may be, therefore, attributed to

the rush of cold moist air from up river, when the regular trade-

wind coming from the sea has slackened or ceased to blow.

On the 26th we arrived at a large sand bank connected with an

island in mid-river, in front of an inlet called Maraca-uassu.

Here we anchored and spent half a day ashore. Penna's object in

stopping was simply to enjoy a ramble on the sands with the

children, and give Senora Katita an opportunity to wash the

linen. The sandbank was now fast going under water with the rise

of the river; in the middle of the dry season it is about a mile

long and half a mile in width. The canoe-men delight in these

open spaces, which are a great relief to the monotony of the

forest that clothes the land in every other part of the river.

Farther westward they are much more frequent, and of larger

extent. They lie generally at the upper end of islands; in fact,

the latter originate in accretions of vegetable matter formed by

plants and trees growing on a shoal. The island was wooded

chiefly with the trumpet tree (Cecropia peltata), which has a

hollow stem and smooth pale bark. The leaves are similar in shape

to those of the horse-chestnut, but immensely larger; beneath

they are white, and when the welcome trade-wind blows they show

their silvery undersides--a pleasant signal to the weary canoe

traveller. The mode of growth of this tree is curious: the

branches are emitted at nearly right angles with the stem, the

branchlets in minor whorls around these, and so forth, the leaves

growing at their extremities, so that the total appearance is

that of a huge candelabrum. Cecropiae of different species are

characteristic of Brazilian forest scenery; the kind of which I

am speaking grows in great numbers everywhere on the banks of the

Amazons where the land is low. In the same places the curious

Monguba tree (Bombax ceiba) is also plentiful; the dark green

bark of its huge tapering trunk, scored with grey, forming a

conspicuous object. The principal palm tree on the lowlands is

the Jauari (Astrvocaryum Jauari), whose stem, surrounded by

whorls of spines, shoots up to a great height. On the borders of

the island were large tracts of arrow-grass (Gynerium

saccharoides), which bears elegant plumes of flowers, like those

of the reed, and grows to a height of twenty feet, the leaves

arranged in a fan-shaped figure near the middle of the stem. I

was surprised to find on the higher parts of the sandbank the

familiar foliage of a willow (Salix Humboldtiana). It is a dwarf

species, and grows in patches resembling beds of osiers; as in

the English willows, the leaves were peopled by small

chrysomelideous beetles.

In wandering about, many features reminded me of the seashore.

Flocks of white gulls were flying overhead, uttering their well-

known cry, and sandpipers coursed along the edge of the water.

Here and there lonely wading-birds were stalking about; one of

these, the Curiaca (Ibis melanopis), flew up with a low cackling

noise, and was soon joined by a unicorn bird (Palamedea cornuta),

which I startled up from amidst the bushes, whose harsh screams,

resembling the bray of a jackass, but shriller, disturbed

unpleasantly the solitude of the place. Amongst the willow bushes

were flocks of a handsome bird belonging to the Icteridae or

troupial family, adorned with a rich plumage of black and

saffron-yellow. I spent some time watching an assemblage of a

species of bird called by the natives Tumburi-para, on the

Cecropia trees. It is the Monasa nigrifrons of ornithologists,

and has a plain slate-coloured plumage with the beak of an orange

hue. It belongs to the family of Barbets, most of whose members

are remarkable for their dull, inactive temperament. Those

species which are arranged by ornithologists under the genus

Bucco are called by the Indians, in the Tupi language, Tai-assu

uira, or pig-birds. They remain seated sometimes for hours

together on low branches in the shade, and are stimulated to

exertion only when attracted by passing insects. This flock of

Tamburi-para were the reverse of dull; they were gambolling and

chasing each other amongst the branches. As they sported about,

each emitted a few short tuneful notes, which altogether produced

a ringing, musical chorus that quite surprised me.

On the 27th we reached an elevated wooded promontory, called

Parentins, which now forms the boundary between the provinces of

Para and the Amazons. Here we met a small canoe descending to

Santarem. The owner was a free negro named Lima, who, with his

wife, was going down the river to exchange his year's crop of

tobacco for European merchandise. The long shallow canoe was

laden nearly to the water level. He resided on the banks of the

Abacaxi, a river which discharges its waters into the Canoma, a

broad interior channel which extends from the river Madeira to

the Parentins, a distance of 180 miles. Penna offered him

advantageous terms, so a bargain was struck, and the man saved

his long journey. The negro seemed a frank, straightforward

fellow; he was a native of Pernambuco, but had settled many years

ago in this part of the country. He had with him a little Indian

girl belonging to the Mauhes tribe, whose native seat is the

district of country lying in the rear of the Canoma, between the

Madeira and the Tapajos. The Mauhes are considered, I think with

truth, to be a branch of the great Mundurucu nation, having

segregated from them at a remote period, and by long isolation

acquired different customs and a totally different language, in a

manner which seems to have been general with the Brazilian

aborigines. The Mundurucus seem to have retained more of the

general characteristics of the original Tupi stock than the

Mauhes. Senor Lima told me, what I afterwards found to be

correct, that there were scarcely two words alike in the

languages of the two peoples, although there are words closely

allied to Tupi in both.

The little girl had not the slightest trace of the savage in her

appearance. Her features were finely shaped, the cheekbones not

at all prominent, the lips thin, and the expression of her

countenance frank and smiling. She had been brought only a few

weeks previously from a remote settlement of her tribe on the

banks of the Abacaxi, and did not yet know five words of

Portuguese. The Indians, as a general rule, are very manageable

when they are young, but it is a general complaint that when they

reach the age of puberty they become restless and discontented.

The rooted impatience of all restraint then shows itself, and the

kindest treatment will not prevent them running away from their

masters; they do not return to the malocas of their tribes, but

join parties who go out to collect the produce of the forests and

rivers, and lead a wandering semi-savage kind of life.

We remained under the Serra dos Parentins all night. Early the

next morning a light mist hung about the tree-tops, and the

forest resounded with the yelping of Whaiapu-sai monkeys. I went

ashore with my gun and got a glimpse of the flock, but did not

succeed in obtaining a specimen. They were of small size and

covered with long fur of a uniform grey colour. I think the

species was the Callithrix donacophilus. The rock composing the

elevated ridge of the Parentins is the same coarse iron-cemented

conglomerate which I have often spoken of as occurring near Para

and in several other places. Many loose blocks were scattered

about. The forest was extremely varied, and inextricable coils of

woody climbers stretched from tree to tree. Throngs of cacti were

spread over the rocks and tree-trunks. The variety of small,

beautifully-shaped ferns, lichens, and boleti, made the place

quite a museum of cryptogamic plants. I found here two exquisite

species of Longicorn beetles, and a large kind of grasshopper

(Pterochroza) whose broad fore-wings resembled the leaf of a

plant, providing the insect with a perfect disguise when they

were closed; while the hind wings were decorated with gaily-

coloured eye-like spots.

The negro left us and turned up a narrow channel, the Parana-

mirim dos Ramos (the little river of the branches, i.e., having

many ramifications), on the road to his home, 130 miles distant.

We then continued our voyage, and in the evening arrived at Villa

Nova, a straggling village containing about seventy houses, many

of which scarcely deserve the name, being mere mud-huts roofed

with palm-leaves. We stayed here four days. The village is built

on a rocky bank, composed of the same coarse conglomerate as that

already so often mentioned. In some places a bed of Tabatinga

clay rests on the conglomerate. The soil in the neighbourhood is

sandy, and the forest, most of which appears to be of second

growth, is traversed by broad alleys which terminate to the south

and east on the banks of pools and lakes, a chain of which

extends through the interior of the land. As soon as we anchored

I set off with Luco to explore the district. We walked about a

mile along the marly shore, on which was a thick carpet of

flowering shrubs, enlivened by a great variety of lovely little

butterflies, and then entered the forest by a dry watercourse.

About a furlong inland this opened on a broad placid pool, whose

banks, clothed with grass of the softest green hue, sloped gently

from the water's edge to the compact wall of forest which

encompassed the whole. The pool swarmed with water-fowl; snowy

egrets, dark-coloured striped herons, and storks of various

species standing in rows around its margins. Small flocks of

macaws were stirring about the topmost branches of the trees.

Long-legged piosocas (Perra Jacana) stalked over the water plants

on the surface of the pool, and in the bushes on its margin were

great numbers of a kind of canary (Sycalis brasiliensis) of a

greenish-yellow colour, which has a short and not very melodious

song. We had advanced but a few steps when we startled a pair of

the Jaburu-moleque (Mycteria americana), a powerful bird of the

stork family, four and a half feet in height, which flew up and

alarmed the rest, so that I got only one bird out of the

tumultuous flocks which passed over our heads. Passing towards

the farther end of the pool I saw, resting on the surface of the

water, a number of large round leaves turned up at their edges;

they belonged to the Victoria water-lily. The leaves were just

beginning to expand (December 3rd), some were still under water,

and the largest of those which had reached the surface measured

not quite three feet in diameter. We found a montaria with a

paddle in it, drawn up on the bank, which I took leave to borrow

of the unknown owner, and Luco paddled me amongst the noble

plants to search for flowers-- meeting, however, with no success.

I learned afterwards that the plant is common in nearly all the

lakes of this neighbourhood. The natives call it the furno do

Piosoca, or oven of the Jacana, the shape of the leaves being

like that of the ovens on which Mandioca meal is roasted.

We saw many kinds of hawks and eagles, one of which, a black

species, the Caracara-i (Milvago nudicollis), sat on the top of a

tall naked stump, uttering its hypocritical whining notes. This

eagle is considered a bird of ill omen by the Indians: it often

perches on the tops of trees in the neighbourhood of their huts,

and is then said to bring a warning of death to some member of

the household. Others say that its whining cry is intended to

attract other defenseless birds within its reach. The little

courageous flycatcher Bemti-vi (Saurophagus sulphuratus)

assembles in companies of four or five, and attacks it boldly,

driving it from the perch where it would otherwise sit for hours.

I shot three hawks of as many different species; and these, with

a Magoary stork, two beautiful gilded-green jacamars (Galbula

chalcocephala), and half-a-dozen leaves of the water-lily, made a

heavy load, with which we trudged off back to the canoe.

A few years after this visit, namely, in 1854-5, I passed eight

months at Villa Nova. The district of which it is the chief town

is very extensive, for it has about forty miles of linear extent

along the banks of the river; but, the whole does not contain

more than 4000 inhabitants. More than half of these are pureblood

Indians who live in a semi-civilised condition on the banks of

the numerous channels and lakes. The trade of the place is

chiefly in India-rubber, balsam of Copaiba (which are collected

on the banks of the Madeira and the numerous rivers that enter

the Canoma channel), and salt fish, prepared in the dry season,

nearer home. These articles are sent to Para in exchange for

European goods. The few Indian and half-breed families who reside

in the town are many shades inferior in personal qualities and

social condition to those I lived amongst near Para and Cameta.

They live in wretched dilapidated mud-hovels; the women cultivate

small patches of mandioca; the men spend most of their time in

fishing, selling what they do not require themselves and getting

drunk with the most exemplary regularity on cashaca, purchased

with the proceeds.

I made, in this second visit to Villa Nova, an extensive

collection of the natural productions of the neighbourhood. A few

remarks on some of the more interesting of these must suffice.

The forests are very different in their general character from

those of Para, and in fact those of humid districts generally

throughout the Amazons. The same scarcity of large-leaved

Musaceous and Marantaceous plants was noticeable here as at

Obydos. The low-lying areas of forest or Ygapos, which alternate

everywhere with the more elevated districts, did not furnish the

same luxuriant vegetation as they do in the Delta region of the

Amazons. They are flooded during three or four months in the

year, and when the waters retire, the soil--to which the very

thin coating of alluvial deposit imparts little fertility--

remains bare, or covered with a matted bed of dead leaves until

the next flood season. These tracts have then a barren

appearance; the trunks and lower branches of the trees are coated

with dried slime, and disfigured by rounded masses of fresh-water

sponges, whose long horny spiculae and dingy colours give them

the appearance of hedgehogs.

Dense bushes of a harsh, cutting grass, called Tiririca, form

almost the only fresh vegetation in the dry season. Perhaps the

dense shade, the long period during which the land remains under

water, and the excessively rapid desiccation when the waters

retire, all contribute to the barrenness of these Ygapos. The

higher and drier land is everywhere sandy, and tall coarse

grasses line the borders of the broad alleys which have been cut

through the second-growth woods. These places swarm with

carapatos, ugly ticks belonging to the genus Ixodes, which mount

to the tips of blades of grass, and attach themselves to the

clothes of passers-by. They are a great annoyance. It occupied me

a full hour daily to pick them off my flesh after my diurnal

ramble. There are two species; both are much flattened in shape,

have four pairs of legs, a thick short proboscis and a horny

integument. Their habit is to attach themselves to the skin by

plunging their proboscides into it, and then suck the blood until

their flat bodies are distended into a globular form. The whole

proceeding, however, is very slow, and it takes them several days

to pump their fill. No pain or itching is felt, but serious sores

are caused if care is not taken in removing them, as the

proboscis is liable to break off and remain in the wound. A

little tobacco juice is generally applied to make them loosen

their hold. They do not cling firmly to the skin by their legs,

although each of these has a pair of sharp and fine claws

connected with the tips of the member by means of a flexible

pedicle. When they mount to the summits of slender blades of

grass, or the tips of leaves, they hold on by their forelegs

only, the other three pairs being stretched out so as to fasten

onto any animal which comes their way. The smaller of the two

species is of a yellowish colour; it is the most abundant, and

sometimes falls upon one by scores. When distended, it is about

the size of a No. 8 shot; the larger kind, which fortunately

comes only singly to the work, swells to the size of a pea.

In some parts of the interior, the soil is composed of very

coarse sand and small fragments of quartz; in these places no

trees grow. I visited, in company with the priest, Padre

Torquato, one of these treeless spaces or campos, as they are

called, situated five miles from the village. The road thither

led through a varied and beautiful forest, containing many

gigantic trees. I missed the Assai, Mirti, Paxiuba, and other

palms which are all found only on rich moist soils, but the noble

Bacaba was not uncommon, and there was a great diversity of dwarf

species of Maraja palms (Bactris), one of which, called the

Peuririma, was very elegant, growing to a height of twelve or

fifteen feet, with a stem no thicker than a man's finger. On

arriving at the campo, all this beautiful forest abruptly ceased,

and we saw before us an oval tract of land three or four miles in

circumference, destitute even of the smallest bush. The only

vegetation was a crop of coarse hairy grass growing in patches.

The forest formed a hedge all round the isolated field, and its

borders were composed in great part of trees which do not grow in

the dense virgin forest, such as a great variety of bushy

Melastomas, low Byrsomina trees, myrtles, and Lacre-trees, whose

berries exude globules of wax resembling gamboge. On the margins

of the campo wild pineapples also grew in great quantity. The

fruit was of the same shape as our cultivated kind, but much

smaller, the size being that of a moderately large apple. We

gathered several quite ripe ones; they were pleasant to the

taste, of the true pineapple flavour, but had an abundance of

fully developed seeds, and only a small quantity of eatable pulp.

There was no path beyond this campo; in fact, all beyond is terra

incognita to the inhabitants of Villa Nova.

The only interesting Mammalian animal which I saw at Villa Nova

was a monkey of a species new to me; it was not, however, a

native of the district, having been brought by a trader from the

river Madeira, a few miles above Borba. It was a howler, probably

the Mycetes stramineus of Geoffroy St. Hilaire. The howlers are

the only kinds of monkey which the natives have not succeeded in

taming. They are often caught, but they do not survive captivity

many weeks. The one of which I am speaking was not quite full

grown. It measured sixteen inches in length, exclusive of the

tail-- the whole body was covered with rather long and shining

dingy-white hair, the whiskers and beard only being of a tawny

hue. It was kept in a house, together with a Coaita and a

Caiarara monkey (Cebus albifrons). Both these lively members of

the monkey order seemed rather to court attention, but the

Mycetes slunk away when anyone approached it. When it first

arrived, it occasionally made a gruff subdued howling noise early

in the morning. The deep volume of sound in the voice of the

howling monkeys, as is well known, is produced by a drum-shaped

expansion of the larynx. It was curious to watch the animal while

venting its hollow cavernous roar, and observe how small was the

muscular exertion employed. When howlers are seen in the forest,

there are generally three or four of them mounted on the topmost

branches of a tree. It does not appear that their harrowing roar

is emitted from sudden alarm; at least, it was not so in captive

individuals. It is probable, however, that the noise serves to

intimidate their enemies. I did not meet with the Mycetes

stramineus in any other part of the Amazons region; in the

neighbourhood of Para a reddish-coloured species prevails (M.

Belzebuth); in the narrow channels near Breves I shot a large,

entirely black kind; another yellow-handed species, according to

the report of the natives, inhabits the island of Macajo, which

is probably the M. flavimanus of Kuhl; some distance up the

Tapajos the only howler found is a brownish-black species; and on

the Upper Amazons, the sole species seen was the Mycetes ursinus,

whose fur is of a shining yellowish-red colour.

In the dry forests of Villa Nova I saw a rattlesnake for the

first time. I was returning home one day through a narrow alley,

when I heard a pattering noise close to me. Hard by was a tall

palm tree, whose head was heavily weighted with parasitic plants,

and I thought the noise was a warning that it was about to fall.

The wind lulled for a few moments, and then there was no doubt

that the noise proceeded from the ground. On turning my head in

that direction, a sudden plunge startled me, and a heavy gliding

motion betrayed a large serpent making off almost from beneath my

feet. The ground is always so encumbered with rotting leaves and

branches that one only discovers snakes when they are in the act

of moving away. The residents of Villa Nova would not believe

that I had seen a rattlesnake in their neighbourhood; in fact, it

is not known to occur in the forests at all, its place being the

open campos, where, near Santarem, I killed several. On my second

visit to Villa Nova I saw another. I had then a favourite little

dog, named Diamante, who used to accompany me in my rambles. One

day he rushed into the thicket, and made a dead set at a large

snake, whose head I saw raised above the herbage. The foolish

little brute approached quite close, and then the serpent reared

its tail slightly in a horizontal position and shook its terrible

rattle. It was many minutes before I could get the dog away; and

this incident, as well as the one already related, shows how slow

the reptile is to make the fatal spring.

I was much annoyed, and at the same time amused, with the Urubu

vultures. The Portuguese call them corvos or crows; in colour and

general appearance they somewhat resemble rooks, but they are

much larger, and have naked, black, wrinkled skin about their

face and throat. They assemble in great numbers in the villages

about the end of the wet season, and are then ravenous with

hunger. My cook could not leave the kitchen open at the back of

the house for a moment while the dinner was cooking, on account

of their thievish propensities. Some of them were always

loitering about, watching their opportunity, and the instant the

kitchen was left unguarded, the bold marauders marched in and

lifted the lids off the saucepans with their beaks to rob them of

their contents. The boys of the village lie in wait, and shoot

them with bow and arrow; and vultures have consequently acquired

such a dread of these weapons, that they may be often kept off by

hanging a bow from the rafters of the kitchen. As the dry season

advances, the hosts of Urubus follow the fishermen to the lakes,

where they gorge themselves with the offal of the fisheries.

Towards February, they return to the villages, and are then not

nearly so ravenous as before their summer trips.

The insects of Villa Nova are, to a great extent, the same as

those of Santarem and the Tapajos. A few species of all orders,

however, are found here, which occurred nowhere else on the

Amazons, besides several others which are properly considered

local varieties or races of others found at Para, on the Northern

shore of the Amazons, or in other parts of Tropical America. The

Hymenoptera were especially numerous, as they always are in

districts which possess a sandy soil; but the many interesting

facts which I gleaned relative to their habits will be more

conveniently introduced when I treat of the same or similar

species found in the localities above-named.

In the broad alleys of the forest several species of Morpho were

common. One of these is a sister form to the Morpho Hecuba, which

I have mentioned as occurring at Obydos. The Villa Nova kind

differs from Hecuba sufficiently to be considered a distinct

species, and has been described under the name of M. Cisseis; but

it is clearly only a local variety of it, the range of the two

being limited by the barrier of the broad Amazons. It is a grand

sight to see these colossal butterflies by twos and threes

floating at a great height in the still air of a tropical

morning. They flap their wings only at long intervals, for I have

noticed them to sail a very considerable distance without a

stroke. Their wing-muscles and the thorax to which they are

attached are very feeble in comparison with the wide extent and

weight of the wings; but the large expanse of these members

doubtless assists the insects in maintaining their aerial course.

Morphos are among the most conspicuous of the insect denizens of

Tropical American forests, and the broad glades of the Villa Nova

woods seemed especially suited to them, for I noticed here six

species. The largest specimens of Morpho Cisseis measure seven

inches and a half in expanse. Another smaller kind, which I could

not capture, was of a pale silvery-blue colour, and the polished

surface of its wings flashed like a silver speculum as the insect

flapped its wings at a great elevation in the sunlight.

To resume our voyage-- We left Villa Nova on the 4th of December.

A light wind on the 5th carried us across to the opposite shore

and past the mouth of the Parana-mirim do arco, or the little

river of the bow, so-called on account of its being a short arm

of the main river, of a curved shape, and rejoining the Amazons a

little below Villa Nova. On the 6th, after passing a large island

in mid-river, we arrived at a place where a line of perpendicular

clay cliffs, called the Barreiros de Cararaucu, diverts slightly

the course of the main stream, as at Obydos. A little below these

cliffs were a few settlers' houses; here Penna remained ten days

to trade, a delay which I turned to good account in augmenting

very considerably my collections.

At the first house a festival was going forward. We anchored at

some distance from the shore, on account of the water being

shoaly, and early in the morning three canoes put off, laden with

salt fish, oil of manatee, fowls and bananas-- wares which the

owners wished to exchange for different articles required for the

festa. Soon after I went ashore. The head man was a tall, well-

made, civilised Tapuyo, named Marcellino, who, with his wife, a

thin, active, wiry old squaw, did the honours of their house, I

thought, admirably. The company consisted of fifty or sixty

Indians and Mamelucos; some of them knew Portuguese, but the Tupi

language was the only one used amongst themselves. The festival

was in honour of our Lady of Conception; and, when the people

learnt that Penna had on board an image of the saint handsomer

than their own, they put off in their canoes to borrow it;

Marcellino taking charge of the doll, covering it carefully with

a neatly-bordered white towel. On landing with the image, a

procession was formed from the port to the house, and salutes

fired from a couple of lazarino guns, the saint being afterwards

carefully deposited in the family oratorio. After a litany and

hymn were sung in the evening, all assembled to supper around a

large mat spread on a smooth terrace-like space in front of the

house. The meal consisted of a large boiled Pirarucu, which had

been harpooned for the purpose in the morning, stewed and roasted

turtle, piles of mandioca-meal and bananas. The old lady, with

two young girls, showed the greatest activity in waiting on the

guests, Marcellino standing gravely by, observing what was wanted

and giving the necessary orders to his wife. When all was done,

hard drinking began, and soon after there was a dance, to which

Penna and I were invited. The liquor served was chiefly a spirit

distilled by the people themselves from mandioca cakes. The

dances were all of the same class, namely, different varieties of

the "Landum," an erotic dance similar to the fandango, originally

learned from the Portuguese. The music was supplied by a couple

of wire-stringed guitars, played alternately by the young men.

All passed off very quietly considering the amount of strong

liquor drunk, and the ball was kept up until sunrise the next

morning.

We visited all the houses one after the other. One of them was

situated in a charming spot, with a broad sandy beach before it,

at the entrance to the Parana-mirim do Mucambo, a channel leading

to an interior lake, peopled by savages of the Mura tribe. This

seemed to be the abode of an industrious family, but all the men

were absent, salting Pirarucu on the lakes. The house, like its

neighbours, was simply a framework of poles thatched with palm-

leaves, the walls roughly latticed and plastered with mud; but it

was larger, and much cleaner inside than the others. It was full

of women and children, who were busy all day with their various

employments; some weaving hammocks in a large clumsy frame, which

held the warp while the shuttle was passed by the hand slowly

across the six foot breadth of web; others were spinning cotton,

and others again scraping, pressing, and roasting mandioca. The

family had cleared and cultivated a large piece of ground; the

soil was of extraordinary richness, the perpendicular banks of

the river, near the house, revealing a depth of many feet of

crumbling vegetable mould. There was a large plantation of

tobacco, besides the usual patches of Indian-corn, sugar-cane,

and mandioca; and a grove of cotton, cacao, coffee, and fruit-

trees surrounded the house. We passed two nights at anchor in

shoaly water off the beach. The weather was most beautiful, and

scores of Dolphins rolled and snorted about the canoe all night.

We crossed the river at this point, and entered a narrow channel

which penetrates the interior of the island of Tupinambarana, and

leads to a chain of lakes called the Lagos de Cararaucu. A

furious current swept along the coast, eating into the crumbling

earthy banks, and strewing the river with debris of the forest.

The mouth of the channel lies about twenty-five miles from Villa

Nova; the entrance is only about forty yards broad, but it

expands, a short distance inland, into a large sheet of water. We

suffered terribly from insect pests during the twenty-four hours

we remained here. At night it was quite impossible to sleep for

mosquitoes; they fell upon us by myriads, and without much piping

came straight at our faces as thick as raindrops in a shower. The

men crowded into the cabins, and then tried to expel the pests by

the smoke from burnt rags, but it was of little avail, although

we were half suffocated during the operation. In the daytime, the

Motuca, a much larger and more formidable fly than the mosquito,

insisted upon levying his tax of blood. We had been tormented by

it for many days past, but this place seemed to be its

metropolis. The species has been described by Perty, the author

of the Entomological portion of Spix, and Martius' travels, under

the name of Hadrus lepidotus. It is a member of the Tabanidae

family, and indeed is closely related to the Haematopota

pluvialis, a brown fly which haunts the borders of woods in

summer time in England. The Motuca is of a bronzed-black colour;

its proboscis is formed of a bundle of horny lancets, which are

shorter and broader than is usually the case in the family to

which it belongs. Its puncture does not produce much pain, but it

makes such a large gash in the flesh that the blood trickles

forth in little streams. Many scores of them were flying about

the canoe all day, and sometimes eight or ten would settle on

one's ankles at the same time. It is sluggish in its motions, and

may be easily killed with the fingers when it settles. Penna went

forward in the montaria to the Pirarucu fishing stations, on a

lake lying further inland; but he did not succeed in reaching

them on account of the length and intricacy of the channels; so

after wasting a day, during which, however, I had a profitable

ramble in the forest, we again crossed the river, and on the 16th

continued our voyage along the northern shore.

The clay cliffs of Cararaucu are several miles in length. The

hard pink and red coloured beds are here extremely thick, and in

some places present a compact, stony texture. The total height of

the cliff is from thirty to sixty feet above the mean level of

the river, and the clay rests on strata of the same coarse iron-

cemented conglomerate which has already been so often mentioned.

Large blocks of this latter have been detached and rolled by the

force of currents up parts of the cliff where they are seen

resting on terraces of the clay. On the top of all lies a bed of

sand and vegetable mold, which supports a lofty forest, growing

up to the very brink of the precipice. After passing these

barreiros we continued our way along a low uninhabited coast,

clothed, wherever it was elevated above high-water mark, with the

usual vividly-coloured forests of the higher Ygapo lands, to

which the broad and regular fronds of the Murumuru palm, here

extremely abundant, served as a great decoration. Wherever the

land was lower than the flood height of the Amazons, Cecropia

trees prevailed, sometimes scattered over meadows of tall broad-

leaved grasses, which surrounded shallow pools swarming with

water-fowl. Alligators were common on most parts of the coast; in

some places we also saw small herds of Capybaras (a large Rodent

animal, like a colossal Guinea-pig) among the rank herbage on

muddy banks, and now and then flocks of the graceful squirrel

monkey (Chrysothrix sciureus), while the vivacious Caiarara

(Cebus albifrons) were seen taking flying leaps from tree to

tree. On the 22nd, we passed the mouth of the most easterly of

the numerous channels which lead to the large interior lake of

Saraca, and on the 23rd ,threaded a series of passages between

islands, where we again saw human habitations, ninety miles

distant from the last house at Cararaucu. On the 24th we arrived

at Serpa.

Serpa is a small village, consisting of about eighty houses,

built on a bank elevated twenty-five feet above the level of the

river. The beds of Tabatinga clay, which are here intermingled

with scoria-looking conglomerate, are in some parts of the

declivity prettily variegated in colour; the name of the town in

the Tupi language, Ita-coatiara, takes its origin from this

circumstance, signifying striped or painted rock. It is an old

settlement, and was once the seat of the district government,

which had authority over the Barra of the Rio Negro. It was in

1849 a wretched-looking village, but it has since revived, on

account of having been chosen by the Steamboat Company of the

Amazons as a station for steam saw-mills and tile manufactories.

We arrived on Christmas Eve, when the village presented an

animated appearance from the number of people congregated for the

holidays. The port was full of canoes, large and small, from the

montaria, with its arched awning of woven lianas and Maranta

leaves, to the two-masted cuberta of the peddling trader, who had

resorted to the place in the hope of trafficking with settlers

coming from remote sitios to attend the festival. We anchored

close to an igarite, whose owner was an old Juri Indian,

disfigured by a large black tatooed patch in the middle of his

face, and by his hair being close cropped, except a fringe in

front of the head.

In the afternoon we went ashore. The population seemed to consist

chiefly of semi-civilised Indians, living as usual in half-

finished mud hovels. The streets were irregularly laid out, and

overrun with weeds and bushes swarming with "mocuim," a very

minute scarlet acarus, which sweeps off to one's clothes in

passing, and attaching itself in great numbers to the skin causes

a most disagreeable itching. The few whites and better class of

mameluco residents live in more substantial dwellings, white-

washed and tiled. All, both men and women, seemed to me much more

cordial, and at the same time more brusque in their manners, than

any Brazilians I had yet met with. One of them, Captain Manoel

Joaquim, I knew for a long time afterwards; a lively,

intelligent, and thoroughly good-hearted man, who had quite a

reputation throughout the interior of the country for generosity,

and for being a firm friend of foreign residents and stray

travellers. Some of these excellent people were men of substance,

being owners of trading vessels, slaves, and extensive

plantations of cacao and tobacco.

We stayed at Serpa five days. Some of the ceremonies observed at

Christmas were interesting, inasmuch as they were the same, with

little modification, as those taught by the Jesuit missionaries

more than a century ago to the aboriginal tribes whom they had

induced to settle on this spot. In the morning, all the women and

girls, dressed in white gauze chemises and showy calico print

petticoats, went in procession to church, first going the round

of the town to take up the different "mordomos," or stewards,

whose office is to assist the Juiz of the festa. These stewards

carried each a long white reed, decorated with coloured ribbons;

several children also accompanied, grotesquely decked with

finery. Three old squaws went in front, holding the "saire," a

large semi-circular frame, clothed with cotton and studded with

ornaments, bits of looking-glass, and so forth. This they danced

up and down, singing all the time a monotonous whining hymn in

the Tupi language, and at frequent intervals turning round to

face the followers, who then all stopped for a few moments. I was

told that this saire was a device adopted by the Jesuits to

attract the savages to church, for these everywhere followed the

mirrors, in which they saw as it were magically reflected their

own persons.

In the evening good-humoured revelry prevailed on all sides. The

negroes, who had a saint of their own colour--St. Benedito--had

their holiday apart from the rest, and spent the whole night

singing and dancing to the music of a long drum (gamba) and the

caracasha. The drum was a hollow log, having one end covered with

skin, and was played by the performer sitting astride upon it,

and drumming with his knuckles. The caracasha is a notched bamboo

tube, which produces a harsh rattling noise by passing a hard

stick over the notches. Nothing could exceed in dreary monotony

this music and the singing and dancing, which were kept up with

unflagging vigour all night long. The Indians did not get up a

dance--for the whites and mamelucos had monopolised all the

pretty coloured girls for their own ball, and the older squaws

preferred looking on to taking a part themselves. Some of their

husbands joined the negroes, and got drunk very quickly. It was

amusing to notice how voluble the usually taciturn redskins

became under the influence of liquor. The negroes and Indians

excused their own intemperance by saying the whites were getting

drunk at the other end of the town, which was quite true.

We left Serpa on the 29th of December, in company of an old

planter named Senor Joao (John) Trinidade, at whose sitio,

situated opposite the mouth of the Madeira, Penna intended to

spend a few days. Our course on the 29th and 30th lay through

narrow channels between islands. On the 31st we passed the last

of these, and then beheld to the south a sea-like expanse of

water, where the Madeira, the greatest tributary of the Amazons,

after 2000 miles of course, blends its waters with those of the

king of rivers. I was hardly prepared for a junction of waters on

so vast a scale as this, now nearly 900 miles from the sea. While

travelling week after week along the somewhat monotonous stream,

often hemmed in between islands, and becoming thoroughly familiar

with it, my sense of the magnitude of this vast water system had

become gradually deadened; but this noble sight renewed the first

feelings of wonder. One is inclined, in such places as these, to

think the Paraenses do not exaggerate much when they call the

Amazons the Mediterranean of South America. Beyond the mouth of

the Madeira, the Amazons sweeps down in a majestic reach, to all

appearance not a whit less in breadth before than after this

enormous addition to its waters. The Madeira does not ebb and

flow simultaneously with the Amazons; it rises and sinks about

two months earlier, so that it was now fuller than the main

river. Its current therefore, poured forth freely from its mouth,

carrying with it a long line of floating trees and patches of

grass which had been torn from its crumbly banks in the lower

part of its course. The current, however, did not reach the

middle of the main stream, but swept along nearer to the southern

shore.

A few items of information which I gleaned relative to this river

may find a place here. The Madeira is navigable for about 480

miles from its mouth; a series of cataracts and rapids then

commences, which extends, with some intervals of quiet water,

about 16o miles, beyond which is another long stretch of

navigable stream. Canoes sometimes descend from Villa Bella, in

the interior province of Matto Grosso, but not so frequently as

formerly, and I could hear of very few persons who had attempted

of late years to ascend the river to that point. It was explored

by the Portuguese in the early part of the eighteenth century,

the chief and now the only town on its banks, Borba, 150 miles

from its mouth, being founded in 1756. Up to the year 1853, the

lower part of the river, as far as about a hundred miles beyond

Borba, was regularly visited by traders from Villa Nova, Serpa,

and Barra, to collect sarsaparilla, copauba balsam, turtle-oil,

and to trade with the Indians, with whom their relations were

generally on a friendly footing. In that year many India-rubber

collectors resorted to this region, stimulated by the high price

(2s. 6d. a pound) which the article was at that time fetching at

Para; and then the Araras, a fierce and intractable tribe of

Indians, began to be troublesome. They attacked several canoes

and massacred everyone on board, the Indian crews as well as the

white traders. Their plan was to lurk in ambush near the sandy

beaches where canoes stop for the night, and then fall upon the

people while asleep. Sometimes they came under pretence of

wishing to trade, and then as soon as they could get the trader

at a disadvantage, shot him and his crew from behind trees. Their

arms were clubs, bows, and Taquara arrows, the latter a

formidable weapon tipped with a piece of flinty bamboo shaped

like a spear-head; they could propel it with such force as to

pierce a man completely through the body. The whites of Borba

made reprisals, inducing the warlike Mundurucus, who had an old

feud with the Araras, to assist them. This state of things lasted

two or three years, and made a journey up the Madeira a risky

undertaking, as the savages attacked all corners. Besides the

Araras and the Mundurucus, the latter a tribe friendly to the

whites, attached to agriculture, and inhabiting the interior of

the country from the Madeira to beyond the Tapajos, two other

tribes of Indians now inhabit the lower Madeira, namely, the

Parentintins and the Muras. Of the former I did not hear much;

the Muras lead a lazy quiet life on the banks of the labyrinths

of lakes and channels which intersect the low country on both

sides of the river below Borba. The Araras are one of those

tribes which do not plant mandioca; and indeed have no settled

habitations. They are very similar in stature and other physical

features to the Mundurucus, although differing from them so

widely in habits and social condition. They paint their chins red

with Urucu (Anatto), and have usually a black tattooed streak on

each side of the face, running from the corner of the mouth to

the temple. They have not yet learned the use of firearms, have

no canoes, and spend their lives roaming over the interior of the

country, living on game and wild fruits. When they wish to cross

a river, they make a temporary canoe with the thick bark of

trees, which they secure in the required shape of a boat by means

of lianas. I heard it stated by a trader of Santarem, who

narrowly escaped being butchered by them in 1854, that the Araras

numbered 2000 fighting men. The number I think must be

exaggerated, as it generally is with regard to Brazilian tribes.

When the Indians show a hostile disposition to the whites, I

believe it is most frequently owing to some provocation they have

received at their hands; for the first impulse of the Brazilian

red-man is to respect Europeans; they have a strong dislike to be

forced into their service, but if strangers visit them with a

friendly intention they are well treated. It is related, however,

that the Indians of the Madeira were hostile to the Portuguese

from the first; it was then the tribes of Muras and Torazes who

attacked travellers. In 1855 I met with an American, an odd

character named Kemp, who had lived for many years amongst the

Indians on the Madeira, near the abandoned settlement of Crato.

He told me his neighbours were a kindly-disposed and cheerful

people, and that the onslaught of the Araras was provoked by a

trader from Bara, who wantonly fired into a family of them,

killing the parents, and carrying off their children to be

employed as domestic servants.

We remained nine days at the sitio of Senor John Trinidade. It is

situated on a tract of high Ygapo land, which is raised, however,

only a few inches above high-water mark. This skirts the northern

shore for a long distance; the soil consisting of alluvium and

rich vegetable mould, and exhibiting the most exuberant

fertility. Such districts are the first to be settled on in this

country, and the whole coast for many miles was dotted with

pleasant-looking sitios like that of our friend. The

establishment was a large one, the house and out-buildings

covering a large space of ground. The industrious proprietor

seemed to be Jack-of-all-trades; he was planter, trader,

fisherman, and canoe-builder, and a large igarite was now on the

stocks under a large shed. There was great pleasure in

contemplating this prosperous farm, from its being worked almost

entirely by free labour; in fact, by one family, and its

dependents. John Trinidade had only one female slave; his other

workpeople were a brother and sister-in-law, two godsons, a free

negro, one or two Indians, and a family of Muras. Both he and his

wife were mamelucos; the negro children called them always father

and mother. The order, abundance, and comfort about the place

showed what industry and good management could effect in this

country without slave-labour. But the surplus produce of such

small plantations is very trifling. All we saw had been done

since the disorders of 1835-6, during which John Trinidade was a

great sufferer; he was obliged to fly, and the Mura Indians

destroyed his house and plantations. There was a large, well-

weeded grove of cacao along the banks of the river, comprising

about 8000 trees, and further inland considerable plantations of

tobacco, mandioca, Indian corn, fields of rice, melons, and

watermelons. Near the house was a kitchen garden, in which grew

cabbages and onions, introduced from Europe, besides a wonderful

variety of tropical vegetables. It must not be supposed that

these plantations and gardens were enclosed or neatly kept, such

is never the case in this country where labour is so scarce; but

it was an unusual thing to see vegetables grown at all, and the

ground tolerably well weeded. The space around the house was

plentifully planted with fruit-trees, some, belonging to the

Anonaceous order, yielding delicious fruits large as a child's

head, and full of custardy pulp which it is necessary to eat with

a spoon--besides oranges, lemons, guavas, alligator pears, Abius

(Achras cainito), Genipapas, and bananas. In the shade of these,

coffee trees grew in great luxuriance.

The table was always well supplied with fish, which the Mura who

was attached to the household as fisherman caught every morning a

few hundred yards from the port. The chief kinds were the

Surubim, Pira-peeua, and Piramutaba, three species of Siluridae,

belonging to the genus Pimelodus. To these we used a sauce in the

form of a yellow paste, quite new to me, called Arube, which is

made of the poisonous juice of the mandioca root, boiled down

before the starch or tapioca is precipitated, and seasoned with

capsicum peppers. It is kept in stone bottles several weeks

before using, and is a most appetising relish to fish. Tucupi,

another sauce made also from mandioca juice, is much more common

in the interior of the country than Arube. This is made by

boiling or heating the pure liquid, after the tapioca has been

separated, daily for several days in succession, and seasoning it

with peppers and small fishes; when old, it has the taste of

essence of anchovies. It is generally made as a liquid, but the

Juri and Miranha tribes on the Japura make it up in the form of a

black paste by a mode of preparation I could not learn; it is

then called Tucupi-pixuna, or black Tucupi-- I have seen the

Indians on the Tapajos, where fish is scarce, season Tucupi with

Sauba ants. It is there used chiefly as a sauce to Tacaca,

another preparation from mandioca, consisting of the starch

beaten up in boiling water.

I thoroughly enjoyed the nine days we spent at this place. Our

host and hostess took an interest in my pursuit; one of the best

chambers in the house was given up to me, and the young men took

me on long rambles in the neighbouring forests. I saw very little

hard work going forward. Everyone rose with the daw, and went

down to the river to bathe; then came the never-failing cup of

rich and strong coffee, after which all proceeded to their

avocations. At this time, nothing was being done at the

plantations; the cacao and tobacco crops were not ripe; weeding

time was over; and the only work on foot was the preparation of a

little farinha by the women. The men dawdled about-- went

shooting and fishing, or did trifling jobs about the house. The

only laborious work done during the year in these establishments

is the felling of timber for new clearings; this happens at the

beginning of the dry season, namely, from July to September.

Whatever employment the people were engaged in, they did not

intermit it during the hot hours of the day. Those who went into

the woods took their dinners with them--a small bag of farinha,

and a slice of salt fish. About sunset all returned to the house;

they then had their frugal suppers, and towards eight o'clock,

after coming to ask a blessing of the patriarchal head of the

household, went off to their hammocks to sleep.

There was another visitor besides ourselves, a negro, whom John

Trinidade introduced to me as his oldest and dearest friend, who

had saved his life during the revolt of 1835. I have,

unfortunately, forgotten his name; he was a freeman, and had a

sitio of his own situated about a day's journey from this. There

was the same manly bearing about him that I had noticed with

pleasure in many other free negroes; but his quiet, earnest

manner, and the thoughtful and benevolent expression of his

countenance, showed him to be a superior man of his class. He

told me he had been intimate with our host for thirty years, and

that a wry word had never passed between them. At the

commencement of the disorders of 1835, he got into the secret of

a plot for assassinating his friend, hatched by some villains

whose only cause of enmity was their owing him money and envying

his prosperity. It was such as these who aroused the stupid and

brutal animosity of the Muras against the whites. The negro, on

obtaining this news, set off alone in a montaria on a six hour

journey in the dead of night to warn his "compadre" of the fate

in store for him, and thus gave him time to fly. It was a

pleasing sight to notice the cordiality of feeling and respect

for each other shown by these two old men; for they used to spend

hours together enjoying the cool breeze, seated under a shed

which overlooked the broad river, and talking of old times.

John Trinidade was famous for his tobacco and cigarettes, as he

took great pains in preparing the Tauari, or envelope, which is

formed of the inner bark of a tree, separated into thin papery

layers. Many trees yield it, among them the Courataria Guianensis

and the Sapucaya nut-tree, both belonging to the same natural

order. The bark is cut into long strips, of a breadth suitable

for folding the tobacco; the inner portion is then separated,

boiled, hammered with a wooden mallet, and exposed to the air for

a few hours. Some kinds have a reddish colour and an astringent

taste, but the sort prepared by our host was of a beautiful

satiny-white hue, and perfectly tasteless. He obtained sixty,

eighty, and sometimes a hundred layers from the same strip of

bark. The best tobacco in Brazil is grown in the neighbourhood of

Borba, on the Madeira, where the soil is a rich black loam; but

tobacco of very good quality was grown by John Trinidade and his

neighbours along this coast, on similar soil. It is made up into

slender rolls, an inch and a half in diameter and six feet in

length, tapering at each end. When the leaves are gathered and

partially dried, layers of them, after the mid-ribs are plucked

out, are placed on a mat and rolled up into the required shape.

This is done by the women and children, who also manage the

planting, weeding, and gathering of the tobacco. The process of

tightening the rolls is a long and heavy task, and can be done

only by men. The cords used for this purpose are of very great

strength. They are made of the inner bark of a peculiar light-

wooded and slender tree, called Uaissima, which yields, when

beaten out, a great quantity of most beautiful silky fibre, many

feet in length. I think this might be turned to some use by

English manufacturers, if they could obtain it in large quantity.

The tree is abundant on light soils on the southern side of the

Lower Amazons, and grows very rapidly. When the rolls are

sufficiently well pressed, they are bound round with narrow

thongs of remarkable toughness, cut from the bark of the climbing

Jacitara palm tree (Desmoncus macracanthus), and are then ready

for sale or use.

It was very pleasant to roam in our host's cacaoal. The ground

was clear of underwood, the trees were about thirty feet in

height, and formed a dense shade. Two species of monkey

frequented the trees, and I was told committed great depredations

when the fruit was ripe. One of these, the macaco prego (Cebus

cirrhifer?), is a most impudent thief; it destroys more than it

eats by its random, hasty way of plucking and breaking the

fruits, and when about to return to the forest, carries away all

it can in its hands or under its arms. The other species, the

pretty little Chrysothrix sciureus, contents itself with

devouring what it can on the spot. A variety of beautiful insects

basked on the foliage where stray gleams of sunlight glanced

through the canopy of broad soft-green leaves, and numbers of an

elegant, long-legged tiger beetle (Odontocheila egregia) ran and

flew about over the herbage.

We left this place on the 8th of January, and on the afternoon of

the 9th, arrived at Matari, a miserable little settlement of Mura

Indians. Here we again anchored and went ashore. The place

consisted of about twenty slightly-built mud-hovels, and had a

most forlorn appearance, notwithstanding the luxuriant forest in

its rear. A horde of these Indians settled here many years ago,

on the site of an abandoned missionary station; and the

government had lately placed a resident director over them, with

the intention of bringing the hitherto intractable savages under

authority. This, however, seemed to promise no other result than

that of driving them to their old solitary haunts on the banks of

the interior waters, for many families had already withdrawn

themselves. The absence of the usual cultivated trees and plants

gave the place a naked and poverty-stricken aspect. I entered one

of the hovels where several women were employed cooking a meal.

Portions of a large fish were roasting over a fire made in the

middle of the low chamber, and the entrails were scattered about

the floor, on which the women with their children were squatted.

These had a timid, distrustful expression of countenance, and

their bodies were begrimed with black mud, which is smeared over

the skin as a protection against mosquitoes. The children were

naked, the women wore petticoats of coarse cloth, ragged round

the edges, and stained in blotches with murixi, a dye made from

the bark of a tree. One of them wore a necklace of monkey's

teeth. There were scarcely any household utensils; the place was

bare with the exception of two dirty grass hammocks hung in the

corners. I missed the usual mandioca sheds behind the house, with

their surrounding cotton, cacao, coffee, and lemon trees. Two or

three young men of the tribe were lounging about the low open

doorway. They were stoutly-built fellows, but less well-

proportioned than the semi-civilised Indians of the Lower Amazons

generally are. Their breadth of chest was remarkable, and their

arms were wonderfully thick and muscular. The legs appeared short

in proportion to the trunk; the expression of their countenances

was unmistakably more sullen and brutal, and the skin of a darker

hue than is common in the Brazilian red man. Before we left the

hut, an old couple came in; the husband carrying his paddle, bow,

arrows, and harpoon, the woman bent beneath the weight of a large

basket filled with palm fruits. The man was of low stature and

had a wild appearance from the long coarse hair which hung over

his forehead. Both his lips were pierced with holes, as is usual

with the older Muras seen on the river. They used formerly to

wear tusks of the wild hog in these holes whenever they went out

to encounter strangers or their enemies in war. The gloomy

savagery, filth, and poverty of the people in this place made me

feel quite melancholy, and I was glad to return to the canoe.

They offered us no civilities; they did not even pass the

ordinary salutes, which all the semi-civilised and many savage

Indians proffer on a first meeting. The men persecuted Penna for

cashaca, which they seemed to consider the only good thing the

white man brings with him. As they had nothing whatever to give

in exchange, Penna declined to supply them. They followed us as

we descended to the port, becoming very troublesome when about a

dozen had collected together. They brought their empty bottles

with them and promised fish and turtle, if we would only trust

them first with the coveted aguardente, or cau-im, as they called

it. Penna was inexorable; he ordered the crew to weigh anchor,

and the disappointed savages remained hooting after us with all

their might from the top of the bank as we glided away.

The Muras have a bad reputation all over this part of the

Amazons, the semi-civilised Indians being quite as severe upon

them as the white settlers. Everyone spoke of them as lazy,

thievish, untrustworthy, and cruel. They have a greater

repugnance than any other class of Indians to settled habits,

regular labour, and the service of the whites; their distaste, in

fact, to any approximation towards civilised life is invincible.

Yet most of these faults are only an exaggeration of the

fundamental defects of character in the Brazilian red man. There

is nothing, I think, to show that the Muras had a different

origin from the nobler agricultural tribes belonging to the Tupi

nation, to some of whom they are close neighbours, although the

very striking contrast in their characters and habits would

suggest the conclusion that their origin had been different, in

the same way as the Semangs of Malacca, for instance, with regard

to the Malays. They are merely an offshoot from them, a number of

segregated hordes becoming degraded by a residence most likely of

very many centuries in Ygapo lands, confined to a fish diet, and

obliged to wander constantly in search of food. Those tribes

which are supposed to be more nearly related to the Tupis are

distinguished by their settled agricultural habits, their living

in well-constructed houses, their practice of many arts, such as

the manufacture of painted earthenware, weaving, and their

general custom of tattooing, social organisation, obedience to

chiefs, and so forth. The Muras have become a nation of nomade

fishermen, ignorant of agriculture and all other arts practised

by their neighbours. They do not build substantial and fixed

dwellings, but live in separate families or small hordes,

wandering from place to place along the margins of those rivers

and lakes which most abound in fish and turtle. At each resting-

place they construct temporary huts at the edge of the stream,

shifting them higher or lower on the banks, as the waters advance

or recede. Their canoes originally were made simply of the thick

bark of trees, bound up into a semi-cylindrical shape by means of

woody lianas; these are now rarely seen, as most families possess

montarias, which they have contrived to steal from the settlers

from time to time. Their food is chiefly fish and turtle, which

they are very expert in capturing. It is said by their neighbours

that they dive after turtles, and succeed in catching them by the

legs, which I believe is true in the shallow lakes where turtles

are imprisoned in the dry season. They shoot fish with bow and

arrow, and have no notion of any other method of cooking it than

by roasting.

It is not quite clear whether the whole tribe were originally

quite ignorant of agriculture; as some families on the banks of

the streams behind Villa Nova, who could scarcely have acquired

the art in recent times, plant mandioca, but, as a general rule,

the only vegetable food used by the Muras is bananas and wild

fruits. The original home of this tribe was the banks of the

Lower Madeira. It appears they were hostile to the European

settlers from the beginning-- plundering their sitios, waylaying

their canoes, and massacring all who fell into their power. About

fifty years ago, the Portuguese succeeded in turning the warlike

propensities of the Mundurucus against them and these, in the

course of many years' persecution, greatly weakened the power of

the tribe, and drove a great part of them from their seats on the

banks of the Madeira. The Muras are now scattered in single

hordes and families over a wide extent of country bordering the

main river from Villa Nova to Catua, near Ega, a distance of 800

miles. Since the disorders of 1835-6, when they committed great

havoc amongst the peaceable settlements from Santarem to the Rio

Negro, and were pursued and slaughtered in great numbers by the

Mundurucus in alliance with the Brazilians, they have given no

serious trouble.

There is one curious custom of the Muras which requires noticing

before concluding this digression; this is the practice of snuff-

taking with peculiar ceremonies. The snuff is called Parica, and

is a highly stimulating powder made from the seeds of a species

of Inga, belonging to the Leguminous order of plants. The seeds

are dried in the sun, pounded in wooden mortars, and kept in

bamboo tubes. When they are ripe, and the snuff-making season

sets in, they have a fuddling-bout, lasting many days, which the

Brazilians call a Quarentena, and which forms a kind of festival

of a semi-religious character. They begin by drinking large

quantities of caysuma and cashiri, fermented drinks made of

various fruits and mandioca, but they prefer cashaca, or rum,

when they can get it. In a short time they drink themselves into

a soddened semi-intoxicated state, and then commence taking the

Parica. For this purpose they pair off, and each of the partners,

taking a reed containing a quantity of the snuff, after going

through a deal of unintelligible mummery, blows the contents with

all his force into the nostrils of his companion. The effect on

the usually dull and taciturn savages is wonderful; they become

exceedingly talkative, sing, shout, and leap about in the wildest

excitement. A reaction soon follows; more drinking is then

necessary to rouse them from their stupor, and thus they carry on

for many days in succession.

The Mauhes also use the Parica, although it is not known among

their neighbours the Mundurucus. Their manner of taking it is

very different from that of the swinish Muras, it being kept in

the form of a paste, and employed chiefly as a preventive against

ague in the months between the dry and wet seasons, when the

disease prevails. When a dose is required, a small quantity of

the paste is dried and pulverised on a flat shell, and the

powder, then drawn up into both nostrils at once through two

vulture quills secured together by cotton thread. The use of

Parica was found by the early travellers amongst the Omaguas, a

section of the Tupis who formerly lived on the Upper Amazons, a

thousand miles distant from the homes of the Mauhes and Muras.

This community of habits is one of those facts which support the

view of the common origin and near relationship of the Amazonian

Indians.

After leaving Matari, we continued our voyage along the northern

shore. The banks of the river were of moderate elevation during

several days' journey; the terra firma lying far in the interior,

and the coast being either lowland or masked with islands of

alluvial formation. On the 14th we passed the upper mouth of the

Parana-mirim de Eva, an arm of the river of small breadth, formed

by a straggling island some ten miles in length, lying parallel

to the northern bank. On passing the western end of this, the

main land again appeared; a rather high rocky coast, clothed with

a magnificent forest of rounded outline, which continues hence

for twenty miles to the mouth of the Rio Negro, and forms the

eastern shore of that river. Many houses of settlers, built at a

considerable elevation on the wooded heights, now enlivened the

riverbanks. One of the first objects which greeted us here was a

beautiful bird we had not hitherto met with, namely, the scarlet

and black tanager (Ramphoccelus nigrogularis), flocks of which

were seen sporting about the trees on the edge of the water,

their flame-coloured liveries lighting up the masses of dark-

green foliage.

The weather, from the 14th to the i8th, was wretched; it rained

sometimes for twelve hours in succession, not heavily, but in a

steady drizzle, such as we are familiar with in our English

climate. We landed at several places on the coast, Penna to trade

as usual, and I to ramble in the forest in search of birds and

insects. In one spot the wooded slope enclosed a very picturesque

scene: a brook, flowing through a ravine in the high bank, fell

in many little cascades to the broad river beneath, its margins

decked out with an infinite variety of beautiful plants. Wild

bananas arched over the watercourse, and the trunks of the trees

in its vicinity were clothed with ferns, large-leaved species

belonging to the genus Lygodium, which, like Osmunda, have their

spore-cases collected together on contracted leaves. On the 18th,

we arrived at a large fazenda (plantation and cattle farm),

called Jatuarana. A rocky point here projects into the stream,

and as we found it impossible to stem the strong current which

whirled around it, we crossed over to the southern shore. Canoes,

in approaching the Rio Negro, generally prefer the southern side

on account of the slackness of the current near the banks. Our

progress, however, was most tediously slow, for the regular east

wind had now entirely ceased, and the vento de cima or wind from

up river, having taken its place, blew daily for a few hours dead

against us. The weather was oppressively close, and every

afternoon a squall arose, which, however, as it came from the

right quarter and blew for an hour or two, was very welcome. We

made acquaintance on this coast with a new insect pest, the Pium,

a minute fly, two thirds of a line in length, which here

commences its reign, and continues henceforward as a terrible

scourge along the upper river, or Solimoens, to the end of the

navigation on the Amazons. It comes forth only by day, relieving

the mosquito at sunrise with the greatest punctuality, and occurs

only near the muddy shores of the stream, not one ever being

found in the shade of the forest. In places where it is abundant,

it accompanies canoes in such dense swarms as to resemble thin

clouds of smoke. It made its appearance in this way the first day

after we crossed the river. Before I was aware of the presence of

flies, I felt a slight itching on my neck, wrist, and ankles,

and, on looking for the cause, saw a number of tiny objects

having a disgusting resemblance to lice, adhering to the skin.

This was my introduction to the much-talked-of Pium. On close

examination, they are seen to be minute two-winged insects, with

dark coloured body and pale legs and wings, the latter closed

lengthwise over the back. They alight imperceptibly, and

squatting close, fall at once to work; stretching forward their

long front legs, which are in constant motion and seem to act as

feelers, and then applying their short, broad snouts to the skin.

Their abdomens soon become distended and red with blood, and

then, their thirst satisfied, they slowly move off, sometimes so

stupefied with their potations that they can scarcely fly. No

pain is felt while they are at work, but they each leave a small

circular raised spot on the skin and a disagreeable irritation.

The latter may be avoided in great measure by pressing out the

blood which remains in the spot; but this is a troublesome task

when one has several hundred punctures in the course of a day. I

took the trouble to dissect specimens to ascertain the way in

which the little pests operate. The mouth consists of a pair of

thick fleshy lips, and two triangular horny lancets, answering to

the upper lip and tongue of other insects. This is applied

closely to the skin, a puncture is made with the lancets, and the

blood then sucked through between these into the oesophagus, the

circular spot which results coinciding with the shape of the

lips. In the course of a few days the red spots dry up, and the

skin in time becomes blackened with the endless number of

discoloured punctures that are crowded together. The irritation

they produce is more acutely felt by some persons than others. I

once travelled with a middle-aged Portuguese, who was laid up for

three weeks from the attacks of Pium; his legs being swelled to

an enormous size, and the punctures aggravated into spreading

sores.

A brisk wind from the east sprang tip early in the morning of the

22nd-- we then hoisted all sail, and made for the mouth of the

Rio Negro. This noble stream at its junction with the Amazons,

seems, from its position, to be a direct continuation of the main

river, while the Solimoens which joins at an angle and is

somewhat narrower than its tributary, appears to be a branch

instead of the main trunk of the vast water system. One sees at

once,therefore,how the early explorers came to give a separate

name to this upper part of the Amazons. The Brazilians have

lately taken to applying the convenient term Alto Amazonas (High

or Upper Amazons) to the Solimoens, and it is probable that this

will gradually prevail over the old name. The Rio Negro broadens

considerably from its mouth upwards, and presents the appearance

of a great lake; its black-dyed waters having no current, and

seeming to be dammed up by the impetuous flow of the yellow,

turbid Solimoens, which here belches forth a continuous line of

uprooted trees and patches of grass, and forms a striking

contrast with its tributary. In crossing, we passed the line, a

little more than halfway over, where the waters of the two rivers

meet and are sharply demarcated from each other. On reaching the

opposite shore, we found a remarkable change. All our insect

pests had disappeared, as if by magic, even from the hold of the

canoe; the turmoil of an agitated, swiftly flowing river, and its

torn, perpendicular, earthy banks, had given place to tranquil

water and a coast indented with snug little bays fringed with

sloping, sandy beaches. The low shore and vivid light-green,

endlessly-varied foliage, which prevailed on the south side of

the Amazons, were exchanged for a hilly country, clothed with a

sombre, rounded, and monotonous forest. Our tedious voyage now

approached its termination; a light wind carried us gently along

the coast to the city of Barra, which lies about seven or eight

miles within the mouth of the river. We stopped for an hour in a

clean little bay, to bathe and dress, before showing ourselves

again among civilised people. The bottom was visible at a depth

of six feet, the white sand taking a brownish tinge from the

stained but clear water. In the evening I went ashore, and was

kindly received by Senor Henriques Antony, a warm-hearted

Italian, established here in a high position as merchant, who was

the never-failing friend of stray travellers. He placed a couple

of rooms at my disposal, and in a few hours I was comfortably

settled in my new quarters, sixty-four days after leaving Obydos.

The town of Barra is built on a tract of elevated, but very

uneven land, on the left bank of the Rio Negro, and contained, in

1850, about 3000 inhabitants. There was originally a small fort

here, erected by the Portuguese, to protect their slave-hunting

expeditions amongst the numerous tribes of Indians which peopled

the banks of the river. The most distinguished and warlike of

these were the Manaos, who were continually at war with the

neighbouring tribes, and had the custom of enslaving the

prisoners made during their predatory expeditions. The Portuguese

disguised their slave-dealing motives under the pretext of

ransoming (resgatando) these captives; indeed, the term resgatar

(to ransom) is still applied by the traders on the Upper Amazons

to the very general, but illegal, practice of purchasing Indian

children of the wild tribes. The older inhabitants of the place

remember the time when many hundreds of these captives were

brought down by a single expedition. In 1809, Barra became the

chief town of the Rio Negro district; many Portuguese and

Brazilians from other provinces then settled here; spacious

houses were built, and it grew, in the course of thirty or forty

years, to be, next to Santarem, the principal settlement on the

banks of the Amazons. At the time of my visit it was on the

decline, in consequence of the growing distrust, or increased

cunning, of the Indians, who once formed a numerous and the sole

labouring class, but having got to know that the laws protected

them against forced servitude, were rapidly withdrawing

themselves from the place. When the new province of the Amazons

was established, in 1852, Barra was chosen as the capital, and

was then invested with the appropriate name of the city of

Manaos.

The situation of the town has many advantages; the climate is

healthy; there are no insect pests; the soil is fertile and

capable of growing all kinds of tropical produce (the coffee of

the Rio Negro, especially, being of very superior quality), and

it is near the fork of two great navigable rivers. The

imagination becomes excited when one reflects on the possible

future of this place, situated near the centre of the equatorial

part of South America, in the midst of a region almost as large

as Europe, every inch of whose soil is of the most exuberant

fertility, and having water communication on one side with the

Atlantic, and on the other with the Spanish republics of

Venezuela, New Granada, Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia. Barra is now

the principal station for the lines of steamers which were

established in 1853, and passengers and goods are transhipped

here for the Solimoens and Peru. A steamer runs once a fortnight

between Para and Barra, and a bi-monthly one plies between this

place and Nauta in the Peruvian territory. The steam-boat company

is supported by a large annual grant, about £50,000 sterling,

from the imperial government. Barra was formerly a pleasant place

of residence, but it is now in a most wretched plight, suffering

from a chronic scarcity of the most necessary articles of food.

The attention of the settlers was formerly devoted almost

entirely to the collection of the spontaneous produce of the

forests and rivers; agriculture was consequently neglected, and

now the neighbourhood does not produce even mandioca-meal

sufficient for its own consumption. Many of the most necessary

articles of food, besides all luxuries, come from Portugal,

England, and North America. A few bullocks are brought now and

then from Obydos, 500 miles off, the nearest place where cattle

are reared in any numbers, and these furnish at long intervals a

supply of fresh beef, but this is generally monopolised by the

families of government officials. Fowls, eggs, fresh fish,

turtles, vegetables, and fruit were excessively scarce and dear

in 1859, when I again visited the place; for instance, six or

seven shillings were asked for a poor lean fowl, and eggs were

twopence-halfpenny a piece. In fact, the neighbourhood produces

scarcely anything; the provincial government is supplied with the

greater part of its funds from the treasury of Para; its revenue,

which amounts to about fifty contos of reis (£5600), derived from

export taxes on the produce of the entire province, not sufficing

for more than about one-fifth of its expenditure.

The population of the province of the Amazons, according to a

census taken in 1858, is 55,000 souls; the municipal district of

Barra, which comprises a large area around the capital,

containing only 4500 inhabitants. For the government, however, of

this small number of people, an immense staff of officials is

gathered together in the capital, and, notwithstanding the

endless number of trivial formalities which Brazilians employ in

every small detail of administration, these have nothing to do

the greater part of their time. None of the people who flocked to

Barra on the establishment of the new government seemed to care

about the cultivation of the soil and the raising of food,

although these would have been most profitable speculations. The

class of Portuguese who emigrate to Brazil seem to prefer petty

trading to the honourable pursuit of agriculture. If the English

are a nation of shopkeepers, what are we to say of the

Portuguese? I counted in Barra one store for every five dwelling-

houses. These stores, or tavernas, have often not more than fifty

pounds' worth of goods for their whole stock, and the Portuguese

owners, big lusty fellows, stand all day behind their dirty

counters for the sake of selling a few coppers' worth of liquors,

or small wares. These men all give the same excuse for not

applying themselves to agriculture, namely, that no hands can be

obtained to work on the soil. Nothing can be done with Indians;

indeed, they are fast leaving the neighbourhood altogether, and

the importation of negro slaves, in the present praiseworthy

temper of the Brazilian mind, is out of the question. The

problem, how to obtain a labouring class for a new and tropical

country, without slavery, has to be solved before this glorious

region can become what its delightful climate and exuberant

fertility fit it for--the abode of a numerous, civilised, and

happy people.

I found at Barra my companion, Mr. Wallace, who, since our joint

Tocantins expedition, had been exploring, partly with his

brother, lately arrived from England, the northeastern coast of

Marajo, the river Capim (a branch of the Guama, near Para), Monte

Alegre, and Santarem. He had passed us by night below Serpa, on

his way to Barra, and so had arrived about three weeks before me.

Besides ourselves, there were half-a-dozen other foreigners here

congregated--Englishmen, Germans, and Americans; one of them a

Natural History collector, the rest traders on the rivers. In the

pleasant society of these, and of the family of Senor Henriques,

we passed a delightful time; the miseries of our long river

voyages were soon forgotten, and in two or three weeks we began

to talk of further explorations.

Meantime we had almost daily rambles in the neighbouring forest.

The whole surface of the land down to the water's edge is covered

by the uniform dark-green rolling forest, the caa-apoam (convex

woods) of the Indians, characteristic of the Rio Negro. This

clothes also the extensive areas of lowland, which are flooded by

the river in the rainy season. The olive-brown tinge of the water

seems to be derived from the saturation in it of the dark green

foliage during these annual inundations. The great contrast in

form and colour between the forest of the Rio Negro and those of

the Amazons arises from the predominance in each of different

families of plants. On the main river, palms of twenty or thirty

different species form a great proportion of the mass of trees,

while on the Rio Negro, they play a very subordinate part. The

characteristic kind in the latter region is the Jara (Leopoldinia

pulchra), a species not found on the margins of the Amazons,

which has a scanty head of fronds with narrow leaflets of the

same dark green hue as the rest of the forest. The stem is

smooth, and about two inches in diameter; its height is not more

than twelve to fifteen feet; it does not, therefore, rise amongst

the masses of foliage of the exogenous trees, so as to form a

feature in the landscape, like the broad-leaved Murumuru and

Urucuri, the slender Assai, the tall Jauari, and the fan-leaved

Muriti of the banks of the Amazons.

On the shores of the main river the mass of the forest is

composed, besides palms, of Leguminosae, or trees of the bean

family, in endless variety as to height, shape of foliage,

flowers, and fruit; of silk-cotton trees, colossal nut-trees

(Lecythideae), and Cecropiae; the underwood and water-frontage

consisting in great part of broad-leaved Musaceae, Marantaceae,

and succulent grasses-- all of which are of light shades of

green. The forests of the Rio Negro are almost destitute of these

large-leaved plants and grasses, which give so rich an appearance

to the vegetation wherever they grow; the margins of the stream

being clothed with bushes or low trees, having the same gloomy

monotonous aspect as the mangroves of the shores of creeks near

the Atlantic. The uniformly small but elegantly-leaved exogenous

trees, which constitute the mass of the forest, consist in great

part of members of the Laurel, Myrtle, Bignoniaceous, and

Rubiaceous orders. The soil is generally a stiff loam, whose

chief component part is the Tabatinga clay, which also forms low

cliffs on the coast in some places, where it overlies strata of

coarse sandstone. This kind of soil and the same geological

formation prevail, as we have seen, in many places on the banks

of the Amazons, so that the great contrast in the forest-clothing

of the two rivers cannot arise from this cause.

The forest was very pleasant for rambling. In some directions

broad pathways led down gentle slopes, through what one might

fancy were interminable shrubberies of evergreens, to moist

hollows where springs of water bubbled up, or shallowbrooks ran

over their beds of clean white sand. But the most beautiful road

was one that ran through the heart of the forest to a waterfall,

which the citizens of Barra consider as the chief natural

curiosity of their neighbourhood. The waters of one of the larger

rivulets which traverse the gloomy wilderness, here fall over a

ledge of rock about ten feet high. It is not the cascade itself,

but the noiseless solitude, and the marvellous diversity and

richness of trees, foliage, and flowers encircling the water

basin that form the attraction of the place. Families make picnic

excursions to this spot; and the gentlemen--it is said the ladies

also--spend the sultry hours of midday bathing in the cold and

bracing waters. The place is classic ground to the Naturalist

from having been a favourite spot with the celebrated travellers

Spix and Martius, during their stay at Barra in 1820. Von Martins

was so much impressed by its magical beauty that he commemorated

the visit by making a sketch of the scenery serve as background

in one of the plates of his great work on the palms.

Birds and insects, however, were scarce amidst these charming

sylvan scenes. I have often traversed the whole distance from

Barra to the waterfall, about two miles by the forest road,

without seeing or hearing a bird, or meeting with so many as a

score of Lepidopterous and Coleopterous insects. In the thinner

woods near the borders of the forest many pretty little blue and

green creepers of the Dacnidae group, were daily seen feeding on

berries; and a few very handsome birds occurred in the forest.

But the latter were so rare that we could obtain them only by

employing a native hunter, who used to spend a whole day, and go

a great distance to obtain two or three specimens. In this way I

obtained, amongst others, specimens of the Trogon pavoninus (the

Suruqua grande of the natives), a most beautiful creature, having

soft golden green plumage, red breast, and an orange-coloured

beak; also the Ampelis Pompadoura, a rich glossy-purple chatterer

with wings of a snowy-white hue.

After we had rested some weeks in Barra, we arranged our plans

for further explorations in the interior of the country. Mr.

Wallace chose the Rio Negro for his next trip, and I agreed to

take the Solimoens. My colleague has already given to the world

an account of his journey on the Rio Negro, and his adventurous

ascent of its great tributary the Uapes. I left Barra for Ega,

the first town of any importance on the Solimoens, on the 26th of

March, 1850. The distance is nearly 400 miles, which we

accomplished in a small cuberta, manned by ten stout Cucama

Indians, in thirty-five days. On this occasion, I spent twelve

months in the upper region of the Amazons; circumstances then

compelled me to return to Para. I revisited the same country in

1855, and devoted three years and a half to a fuller exploration

of its natural productions. The results of both journeys will be

given together in subsequent chapters of this work; in the

meantime, I will proceed to give an account of Santarem and the

river Tapajos, whose neighbourhoods I investigated in the years

1851-4.

A few words on my visit to Para in 1851 may be here introduced. I

descended the river from Ega, to the capital, a distance of 1400

miles, in a heavily-laden schooner belonging to a trader of the

former place. The voyage occupied no less than twenty-nine days,

although we were favoured by the powerful currents of the rainy

season. The hold of the vessel was filled with turtle oil

contained in large jars, the cabin was crammed with Brazil nuts,

and a great pile of sarsaparilla, covered with a thatch of palm

leaves, occupied the middle of the deck. We had, therefore, (the

master and two passengers) but rough accommodation, having to

sleep on deck, exposed to the wet and stormy weather, under

little toldos or arched shelters, arranged with mats of woven

lianas and maranta leaves. I awoke many a morning with clothes

and bedding soaked through with the rain. With the exception,

however, of a slight cold at the commencement, I never enjoyed

better health than during this journey. When the wind blew from

up river or off the land, we sped away at a great rate; but it

was often squally from those quarters, and then it was not safe

to hoist the sails. The weather was generally calm, a motionless

mass of leaden clouds covering the sky, and the broad expanse of

waters flowing smoothly down with no other motion than the ripple

of the current. When the wind came from below, we tacked down the

stream; sometimes it blew very strong, and then the schooner,

having the wind abeam, laboured through the waves, shipping often

heavy seas which washed everything that was loose from one side

of the deck to the other.

On arriving at Para, I found the once cheerful and healthy city

desolated by two terrible epidemics. The yellow fever, which

visited the place the previous year (1850) for the first time

since the discovery of the country, still lingered after having

carried off nearly 5 percent of the population. The number of

persons who were attacked, namely, three-fourths of the entire

population, showed how general the onslaught is of an epidemic on

its first appearance in a place. At the heels of this plague came

the smallpox. The yellow fever had fallen most severely on the

whites and mamelucos, the negroes wholly escaping; but the

smallpox attacked more especially the Indians, negroes, and

people of mixed colour, sparing the whites almost entirely, and

taking off about a twentieth part of the population in the course

of the four months of its stay. I heard many strange accounts of

the yellow fever. I believe Para was the second port in Brazil

attacked by it. The news of its ravages in Bahia, where the

epidemic first appeared, arrived some few days before the disease

broke out. The government took all the sanitary precautions that

could be thought of; amongst the rest was the singular one of

firing cannon at the street corners, to purify the air. Mr.

Norris, the American consul, told me the first cases of fever

occurred near the port and that it spread rapidly and regularly

from house to house, along the streets which run from the

waterside to the suburbs, taking about twenty-four hours to reach

the end. Some persons related that for several successive

evenings before the fever broke out the atmosphere was thick, and

that a body of murky vapour, accompanied by a strong stench,

travelled from street to street. This moving vapour was called

the "Mai da peste" ("the mother or spirit of the plague"); and it

was useless to attempt to reason them out of the belief that this

was the forerunner of the pestilence. The progress of the disease

was very rapid. It commenced in April, in the middle of the wet

season. In a few days, thousands of persons lay sick, dying or

dead. The state of the city during the time the fever lasted may

be easily imagined. Towards the end of June it abated, and very

few cases occurred during the dry season from July to December.

As I said before, the yellow fever still lingered in the place

when I arrived from the interior in April. I was in hopes I

should escape it, but was not so fortunate; it seemed to spare no

newcomer. At the time I fell ill, every medical man in the place

was worked to the utmost in attending the victims of the other

epidemic; it was quite useless to think of obtaining their aid,

so I was obliged to be my own doctor, as I had been in many

former smart attacks of fever. I was seized with shivering and

vomit at nine o'clock in the morning. While the people of the

house went down to the town for the medicines I ordered, I

wrapped myself in a blanket and walked sharply to and fro along

the veranda, drinking at intervals a cup of warm tea, made of a

bitter herb in use amongst the natives, called Pajemarioba, a

leguminous plant growing in all waste places. About an hour

afterwards, I took a good draught of a decoction of elder

blossoms as a sudorific, and soon after fell insensible into my

hammock. Mr. Philipps, an English resident with whom I was then

lodging, came home in the afternoon and found me sound asleep and

perspiring famously. I did not wake until almost midnight, when I

felt very weak and aching in every bone of my body. I then took

as a purgative, a small dose of Epsom salts and manna. In forty-

eight hours the fever left me, and in eight days from the first

attack, I was able to get about my work. Little else happened

during my stay, which need be recorded here. I shipped off all my

collections to England, and received thence a fresh supply of

funds. It took me several weeks to prepare for my second and

longest journey into the interior. My plan now was first to make

Santarem headquarters for some time, and ascend from that place

the river Tapajos as far as practicable. Afterwards I intended to

revisit the marvellous country of the Upper Amazons, and work

well its natural history at various stations I had fixed upon,

from Ega to the foot of the Andes.

CHAPTER VIII

SANTAREM

Situation of Santarem--Manners and Customs of the Inhabitants--

Climate--Grassy Campos and Woods--Excursions to Mapiri, Mahica,

and Irura, with Sketches of their Natural History-- Palms, Wild

Fruit Trees, Mining Wasps, Mason Wasps, Bees, and Sloths

I have already given a short account of the size, situation, and

general appearance of Santarem. Although containing not more than

2500 inhabitants, it is the most civilised and important

settlement on the banks of the main river from Peru to the

Atlantic. The pretty little town, or city as it is called, with

its rows of tolerably uniform, white-washed and red-tiled houses

surrounded by green gardens and woods, stands on gently sloping

ground on the eastern side of the Tapajos, close to its point of

junction with the Amazons. A small eminence on which a fort has

been erected, but which is now in a dilapidated condition,

overlooks the streets, and forms the eastern limit of the mouth

of the tributary. The Tapajos at Santarem is contracted to a

breadth of about a mile and a half by an accretion of low

alluvial land, which forms a kind of delta on the western side;

fifteen miles further up the river is seen at its full width of

from ten to a dozen miles, and the magnificent hilly country,

through which it flows from the south, is then visible on both

shores. This high land, which appears to be a continuation of the

central table-lands of Brazil, stretches almost without

interruption on the eastern side of the river down to its mouth

at Santarem. The scenery as well as the soil, vegetation, and

animal tenants of this region, are widely different from those of

the flat and uniform country which borders the Amazons along most

part of its course. After travelling week after week on the main

river, the aspect of Santarem with its broad white sandy beach,

limpid dark-green waters, and line of picturesque hills rising

behind over the fringe of green forest, affords an agreeable

surprise. On the main Amazons, the prospect is monotonous unless

the vessel runs near the shore, when the wonderful diversity and

beauty of the vegetation afford constant entertainment.

Otherwise, the unvaried, broad yellow stream, and the long low

line of forest, which dwindles away in a broken line of trees on

the sea-like horizon and is renewed, reach after reach, as the

voyages advances, weary by their uniformity.

I arrived at Santarem on my second journey into the interior, in

November, 1851, and made it my headquarters for a period, as it

turned out, of three years and a half. During this time I made,

in pursuance of the plan I had framed, many excursions up the

Tapajos, and to other places of interest in the surrounding

region. On landing, I found no difficulty in hiring a suitable

house on the outskirts of the place. It was pleasantly situated

near the beach, going towards the aldeia or Indian part of the

town. The ground sloped from the back premises down to the

waterside and my little raised veranda overlooked a beautiful

flower garden, a great rarity in this country, which belonged to

the neighbours. The house contained only three rooms, one with

brick and two with boarded floors. It was substantially built,

like all the better sort of houses in Santarem, and had a

stuccoed front. The kitchen, as is usual, formed an outhouse

placed a few yards distant from the other rooms. The rent was

12,000 reis, or about twenty-seven shillings a month. In this

country, a tenant has no extra payments to make; the owners of

house property pay a dizimo or tithe, to the "collectoria

general," or general treasury, but with this the occupier of

course has nothing to do. In engaging servants, I had the good

fortune to meet with a free mulatto, an industrious and

trustworthy young fellow, named Jose, willing to arrange with me;

the people of his family cooked for us, while he assisted me in

collecting; he proved of the greatest service in the different

excursions we subsequently made. Servants of any kind were almost

impossible to be obtained at Santarem, free people being too

proud to hire themselves, and slaves too few and valuable to

their masters to be let out to others. These matters arranged,

the house put in order, and a rude table, with a few chairs,

bought or borrowed to furnish the house with, I was ready in

three or four days to commence my Natural History explorations in

the neighbourhood.

I found Santarem quite a different sort of place from the other

settlements on the Amazons. At Cameta, the lively, good-humoured,

and plain-living Mamelucos formed the bulk of the population, the

white immigrants there, as on the RioNegro and Upper Amazons,

seeming to have fraternised well with the aborigines. In the

neighbourhood of Santarem the Indians, I believe, were originally

hostile to the Portuguese; at any rate, the blending of the two

races has not been here on a large scale. I did not find the

inhabitants the pleasant, easygoing, and blunt-spoken country

folk that are met with in other small towns of the interior. The

whites, Portuguese and Brazilians, are a relatively more numerous

class here than in other settlements, and make great pretensions

to civilisation; they are the merchants and shopkeepers of the

place; owners of slaves, cattle estates, and cacao plantations.

Amongst the principal residents must also be mentioned the civil

and military authorities, who are generally well-bred and

intelligent people from other provinces. Few Indians live in the

place; it is too civilised for them, and the lower class is made

up (besides the few slaves) of half-breeds, in whose composition

negro blood predominates. Coloured people also exercise the

different handicrafts; the town supports two goldsmiths, who are

mulattoes, and have each several apprentices; the blacksmiths are

chiefly Indians, as is the case generally throughout the

province. The manners of the upper class (copied from those of

Para) are very stiff and formal, and the absence of the hearty

hospitality met with in other places, produces a disagreeable

impression at first. Much ceremony is observed in the intercourse

of the principal people with each other, and with strangers. The

best room in each house is set apart for receptions, and visitors

are expected to present themselves in black dress coats,

regardless of the furious heat which rages in the sandy streets

of Santarem towards midday, the hour when visits are generally

made. In the room a cane-bottomed sofa and chairs, all lacquered

and gilded, are arranged in quadrangular form, and here the

visitors are invited to seat themselves, while the compliments

are passed, or the business arranged. In taking leave, the host

backs out his guests with repeated bows, finishing at the front

door. Smoking is not in vogue amongst this class, but snuff-

taking is largely indulged in, and great luxury is displayed in

gold and silver snuff-boxes. All the gentlemen, and indeed most

of the ladies also, wear gold watches and guard chains. Social

parties are not very frequent; the principal men being fully

occupied with their business and families, and the rest spending

their leisure in billiard and gambling rooms, leaving wives and

daughters shut up at home. Occasionally, however, one of the

principal citizens gives a ball. In the first that I attended,

the gentlemen were seated all the evening on one side of the

room, and the ladies on the other, and partners were allotted by

means of numbered cards, distributed by a master of the

ceremonies. But the customs changed rapidly in these matters

after steamers began to run on the Amazons (in 1853), bringing a

flood of new ideas and fashions into the country. The old,

bigoted, Portuguese system of treating women, which stifled

social intercourse and wrought endless evils in the private life

of the Brazilians, is now being gradually, although slowly,

abandoned.

The religious festivals were not so numerous here as in other

towns, and when they did take place, were very poor and ill

attended. There is a handsome church, but the vicar showed

remarkably little zeal for religion, except for a few days now

and then when the Bishop came from Para on his rounds through the

diocese. The people are as fond of holiday-making here as in

other parts of the province; but it seemed to be a growing

fashion to substitute rational amusements for the processions and

mummeries of the saints' days. The young folks are very musical,

the principal instruments in use being the flute, violin, Spanish

guitar, and a small four-stringed viola, called cavaquinho.

During the early part of my stay at Santarem, a little party of

instrumentalists, led by a tall, thin, ragged mulatto, who was

quite an enthusiast in his art, used frequently to serenade their

friends in the cool and brilliant moonlit evenings of the dry

season, playing French and Italian marches and dance music with

very good effect. The guitar was the favourite instrument with

both sexes, as at Para; the piano, however, is now fast

superseding it. The ballads sung to the accompaniment of the

guitar were not learned from written or printed music, but

communicated orally from one friend to another. They were never

spoken of as songs, but modinas, or "little fashions," each of

which had its day, giving way to the next favourite brought by

some young fellow from the capital.

At festival times there was a great deal of masquerading, in

which all the people, old and young, white, negro, and Indian,

took great delight. The best things of this kind used to come off

during the Carnival, in Easter week, and on St. John's Eve; the

negroes having a grand semi-dramatic display in the streets at

Christmas time. The more select affairs were got up by the young

whites, and coloured men associating with whites. A party of

thirty or forty of these used to dress themselves in uniform

style, and in very good taste, as cavaliers and dames, each

disguised with a peculiar kind of light gauze mask. The troop,

with a party of musicians, went the round of their friends'

houses in the evening, and treated the large and gaily-dressed

companies which were there assembled to a variety of dances. The

principal citizens, in the large rooms of whose houses these

entertainments were given, seemed quite to enjoy them; great

preparations were made at each place; and, after the dance,

guests and masqueraders were regaled with pale ale and

sweetmeats. Once a year the Indians, with whom masked dances and

acting are indigenous, had their turn, and on one occasion they

gave us a great treat. They assembled from different parts of the

neighbourhood at night, on the outskirts of the town, and then

marched through the streets by torchlight towards the quarter

inhabited by the whites, to perform their hunting and devil

dances before the doors of the principal inhabitants. There were

about a hundred men, women, and children in the procession. Many

of the men were dressed in the magnificent feather crowns,

tunics, and belts, manufactured by the Mundurucus, and worn by

them on festive occasions, but the women were naked to the waist,

and the children quite naked, and all were painted and smeared

red with anatto. The ringleader enacted the part of the Tushaua,

or chief, and carried a sceptre, richly decorated with the

orange, red, and green feathers of toucans and parrots. The paje

or medicine-man came along, puffing at a long tauari cigar, the

instrument by which he professes to make his wonderful cures.

Others blew harsh, jarring blasts with the ture, a horn made of

long and thick bamboo, with a split reed in the mouthpiece. This

is the war trumpet of many tribes of Indians, with which the

sentinels of predatory hordes, mounted on a lofty tree, gave the

signal for attack to their comrades. Those Brazilians who are old

enough to remember the times of warfare between Indians and

settlers, retain a great horror of the ture, its loud, harsh note

heard in the dead of the night having been often the prelude to

an onslaught of bloodthirsty Muras on the outlying settlements.

The rest of the men in the procession carried bows and arrows,

bunches of javelins, clubs, and paddles. The older children

brought with them the household pets; some had monkeys or coatis

on their shoulders, and others bore tortoises on their heads. The

squaws carried their babies in aturas, or large baskets, slung on

their backs, and secured with a broad belt of bast over their

foreheads. The whole thing was accurate in its representation of

Indian life, and showed more ingenuity than some people give the

Brazilian red man credit for. It was got up spontaneously by the

Indians, and simply to amuse the people of the place.

The people seem to be thoroughly alive to the advantages of

education for their children. Besides the usual primary schools,

one for girls, and another for boys, there is a third of a higher

class, where Latin and French, amongst other accomplishments, are

taught by professors, who, like the common schoolmasters, are

paid by the provincial government. This is used as a preparatory

school to the Lyceum and Bishop's seminary, well-endowed

institutions at Para, whither it is the ambition of traders and

planters to send their sons to finish their studies. The

rudiments of education only are taught in the primary schools,

and it is surprising how quickly and well the little lads, both

coloured and white, learn reading, writing, and arithmetic. But

the simplicity of the Portuguese language, which is written as it

is pronounced, or according to unvarying rules, and the use of

the decimal system of accounts, make these acquirements much

easier than they are with us. Students in the superior school

have to pass an examination before they can be admitted at the

colleges in Para, and the managers once did me the honour to make

me one of the examiners for the year. The performances of the

youths, most of whom were under fourteen years of age, were very

creditable, especially in grammar; there was a quickness of

apprehension displayed which would have gladdened the heart of a

northern schoolmaster. The course of study followed at the

colleges of Para must be very deficient; for it is rare to meet

with an educated Paraense who has the slightest knowledge of the

physical sciences, or even of geography, if he has not travelled

out of the province. The young men all become smart rhetoricians

and lawyers; any of them is ready to plead in a law case at an

hour's notice; they are also great at statistics, for the

gratification of which taste there is ample field in Brazil,

where every public officer has to furnish volumes of dry reports

annually to the government; but they are woefully ignorant on

most other subjects.

I do not recollect seeing a map of any kind at Santarem. The

quick-witted people have a suspicion of their deficiencies in

this respect, and it is difficult to draw them out on geography;

but one day a man holding an important office betrayed himself by

asking me, "On what side of the river was Paris situated? " This

question did not arise, as might be supposed, from a desire for

accurate topographical knowledge of the Seine, but from the idea,

that all the world was a great river, and that the different

places he had heard of must lie on one shore or the other. The

fact of the Amazons being a limited stream, having its origin in

narrow rivulets, its beginning and its ending, has never entered

the heads of most of the people who have passed their whole lives

on its banks.

Santarem is a pleasant place to live in, irrespective of its

society. There are no insect pests, mosquito, pium, sand-fly, or

motuca. The climate is glorious; during six months of the year,

from August to February, very little rain falls, and the sky is

cloudless for weeks together, the fresh breezes from the sea,

nearly 400 miles distant, moderating the great heat of the sun.

The wind is sometimes so strong for days together, that it is

difficult to make way against it in walking along the streets,

and it enters the open windows and doors of houses, scattering

loose clothing and papers in all directions. The place is

considered healthy; but at the changes of season, severe colds

and ophthalmia are prevalent. I found three Englishmen living

here, who had resided many years in the town or its

neighbourhood, and who still retained their florid complexions;

the plump and fresh appearance of many of the middle-aged

Santarem ladies also bore testimony to the healthfulness of the

climate. The streets are always clean and dry, even in the height

of the wet season; good order is always kept, and the place

pretty well supplied with provisions. None but those who have

suffered from the difficulty of obtaining the necessities of life

at any price in most of the interior settlements of South

America, can appreciate the advantages of Santarem in this

respect.

Everything, however, except meat, was dear, and becoming every

year more so. Sugar, coffee, and rice, which ought to be produced

in surplus in the neighbourhood, are imported from other

provinces, and are high in price; sugar, indeed, is a little

dearer here than in England. There were two or three butchers'

shops, where excellent beef could be had daily at twopence or

twopence-halfpenny per pound. The cattle have not to be brought

from a long distance as at Para, being bred on the campos, which

border the Lago Grande, only one or two days' journey from the

town. Fresh fish could be bought in the port on most evenings,

but as the supply did not equal the demand, there was always a

race amongst purchasers to the waterside when the canoe of a

fisherman hove in sight. Very good bread was hawked round the

town every morning, with milk, and a great variety of fruits and

vegetables. Amongst the fruits, there was a kind called atta,

which I did not see in any other part of the country. It belongs

to the Anonaceous order, and the tree which produces it grows

apparently wild in the neighbourhood of Santarem. It is a little

larger than a good-sized orange, and the rind, which encloses a

mass of rich custardy pulp, is scaled like the pineapple, but

green when ripe, and encrusted on the inside with sugar. To

finish this account of the advantages of Santarem, the delicious

bathing in the clear waters of the Tapajos may be mentioned.

There is here no fear of alligators; when the cast wind blows, a

long swell rolls in on the clean sandy beach, and the bath is

most exhilarating.

The country around Santarem is not clothed with dense and lofty

forest like the rest of the great humid river plain of the

Amazons. It is a campo region; a slightly elevated and undulating

tract of land, wooded only in patches, or with single scattered

trees. A good deal of the country on the borders of the Tapajos,

which flows from the great campo area of interior Brazil, is of

this description. It is on this account that I consider the

eastern side of the river, towards its mouth,, to be a northern

prolongation of the continental land, and not a portion of the

alluvial flats of the Amazons. The soil is a coarse gritty sand;

the substratum, which is visible in some places, consisting of

sandstone conglomerate probably of the same formation as that

which underlies the Tabatinga clay in other parts of the river

valley. The surface is carpeted with slender hairy grasses, unfit

for pasture, growing to a uniform height of about a foot. The

patches of wood look like copses in the middle of green meadows;

they are called by the natives "ilhas de mato," or islands of

jungle; the name being, no doubt, suggested by their compactness

of outline, neatly demarcated in insular form from the smooth

carpet of grass, around them. They are composed of a great

variety of trees loaded with succulent parasites, and lashed

together by woody climbers like the forest in other parts. A

narrow belt of dense wood, similar in character to these ilhas,

and like them sharply limited along its borders, runs everywhere

parallel and close to the river. In crossing the campo, the path

from the town ascends a little for a mile or two, passing through

this marginal strip of wood; the grassy land then slopes

gradually to a broad valley, watered by rivulets, whose banks are

clothed with lofty and luxuriant forest. Beyond this, a range of

hills extends as far as the eye can reach towards the yet

untrodden interior. Some of these hills are long ridges, wooded

or bare; others are isolated conical peaks, rising abruptly from

the valley. The highest are probably not more than a thousand

feet above the level of the river. One remarkable hill, the Serra

de Muruaru, about fifteen miles from Santarem, which terminates

the prospect to the south, is of the same truncated pyramidal

form as the range of hills near Almeyrim. Complete solitude

reigns over the whole of this stretch of beautiful country. The

inhabitants of Santarem know nothing of the interior, and seem to

feel little curiosity concerning it. A few tracks from the town

across the campo lead to some small clearings four or five miles

off, belonging to the poorer inhabitants of the place; but,

excepting these, there are no roads, or signs of the proximity of

a civilised settlement.

The appearance of the campos changes very much according to the

season. There is not that grand uniformity of aspect throughout

the year which is observed in the virgin forest, and which makes

a deeper impression on the naturalist the longer he remains in

this country. The seasons in this part of the Amazons region are

sharply contrasted, but the difference is not so great as in some

tropical countries, where, during the dry monsoon, insects and

reptiles go into a summer sleep, and the trees simultaneously

shed their leaves. As the dry season advances (August,

September), the grass on the campos withers, and the shrubby

vegetation near the town becomes a mass of parched yellow

stubble. The period, however, is not one of general torpidity or

repose for animal or vegetable life. Birds certainly are not so

numerous as in the wet season, but some kinds remain and lay

their eggs at this time--for instance, the ground doves

(Chamaepelia). The trees retain their verdure throughout, and

many of them flower in the dry months. Lizards do not become

torpid, and insects are seen both in the larva and the perfect

states, showing that the aridity of the climate has not a general

influence on the development of the species. Some kinds of

butterflies, especially the little hairstreaks (Theclae), whose

caterpillars feed on the trees, make their appearance only when

the dry season is at its height. The land molluscs of the

district are the only animals which aestivate; they are found in

clusters, Bulimi and Helices, concealed in hollow trees, the

mouths of their shells closed by a film of mucus. The fine

weather breaks up often with great suddenness about the beginning

of February. Violent squalls from the west or the opposite

direction to the trade-wind then occur. They give very little

warning, and the first generally catches the people unprepared.

They fall in the night, and blowing directly into the harbour,

with the first gust sweep all vessels from their anchorage; in a

few minutes a mass of canoes, large and small, including

schooners of fifty tons burthen, are clashing together, pell-

mell, on the beach. I have reason to remember these storms, for I

was once caught in onemyself, while crossing the river in an

undecked boat about a day's journey from Santarem. They are

accompanied with terrific electric explosions, the sharp claps of

thunder falling almost simultaneously with the blinding flashes

of lightning. Torrents of rain follow the first outbreak; the

wind then gradually abates, and the rain subsides into a steady

drizzle, which continues often for the greater part of the

succeeding day.

After a week or two of showery weather, the aspect of the country

is completely changed. The parched ground in the neighbourhood of

Santarem breaks out, so to speak, in a rash of greenery; the

dusty, languishing trees gain, without having shed their old

leaves, a new clothing of tender green foliage; a wonderful

variety of quick-growing leguminous plants springs up; and leafy

creepers overrun the ground, the bushes, and the trunks of trees.

One is reminded of the sudden advent of spring after a few warm

showers in northern climates; I was the more struck by it as

nothing similar is witnessed in the virgin forests amongst which

I had passed the four years previous to my stay in this part. The

grass on the campos is renewed, and many of the campo trees,

especially the myrtles, which grow abundantly in one portion of

the district, begin to flower, attracting by the fragrance of

their blossoms a great number and variety of insects, more

particularly Coleoptera. Many kinds of birds; parrots, toucans,

and barbets, which live habitually in the forest, then visit the

open places.

A few weeks of comparatively dry weather generally intervene in

March, after a month or two of rain. The heaviest rains fall in

April, May, and June; they come in a succession of showers, with

sunny, gleamy weather in the intervals. June and July are the

months when the leafy luxuriance of the campos, and the activity

of life, are at their highest. Most birds have then completed

their moulting, which extends over the period from February to

May. The flowering shrubs are then mostly in bloom, and

numberless kinds of Dipterous and Hymenopterous insects appear

simultaneously with the flowers. This season might be considered

the equivalent of summer in temperate climates, as the bursting

forth of the foliage in February represents the spring; but under

the equator there is not that simultaneous march in the annual

life of animals and plants, which we see in high latitudes; some

species, it is true, are dependent upon others in their

periodical acts of life, and go hand-in-hand with them, but they

are not all simultaneously and similarly affected by the physical

changes of the seasons.

I will now give an account of some of my favourite collecting

places in the neighbourhood of Santarem, incorporating with the

description a few of the more interesting observations made on

the Natural History of the localities. To the west of the town

there was a pleasant path along the beach to a little bay, called

Mapiri, about five miles within the mouth of the Tapajos. The

road was practicable only in the dry season. The river at

Santarem rises on the average about thirty feet, varying in

different years about ten feet, so that in the four months from

April to July, the water comes up to the edge of the marginal

belt of wood already spoken of. This Mapiri excursion was most

pleasant and profitable in the months from January to March,

before the rains became too continuous. The sandy beach beyond

the town is very irregular, in some places forming long spits on

which, when the east wind is blowing, the waves break in a line

of foam-- at others, receding to shape out quiet little bays and

pools.

On the outskirts of the town a few scattered huts of Indians and

coloured people are passed, prettily situated on the margin of

the white beach, with a background of glorious foliage; the cabin

of the pureblood Indian being distinguished from the mud hovels

of the free negroes and mulattoes by its light construction, half

of it being an open shed where the dusky tenants are seen at all

hours of the day lounging in their open-meshed grass hammocks.

About two miles on the road we come to a series of shallow pools,

called the Laguinhos, which are connected with the river in the

wet season, but separated from it by a high bank of sand topped

with bushes at other times. There is a break here in the fringe

of wood, and a glimpse is obtained of the grassy campo. When the

waters have risen to the level of the pools, this place is

frequented by many kinds of wading birds. Snow-white egrets of

two species stand about the margins of the water, and dusky-

striped herons may be seen half hidden under the shade of the

bushes. The pools are covered with a small kind of waterlily, and

surrounded by a dense thicket. Amongst the birds which inhabit

this spot is the rosy-breasted Troupial (Trupialis Gulanensis), a

bird resembling our starling in size and habits, and not unlike

it in colour, with the exception of the rich rosy vest. The water

at this time of the year overflows a large level tract of campo

bordering the pools, and the Troupials come to feed on the larvae

of insects which then abound in the moist soil.

Beyond the Laguinhos there succeeds a tract of level beach

covered with trees which form a beautiful grove. About the month

of April, when the water rises to this level, the trees are

covered with blossom, and a handsome orchid, an Epidendron with

large white flowers, which clothes thickly the trunks, is

profusely in bloom. Several kinds of kingfisher resort to the

place. Four species may be seen within a small space-- the

largest as big as a crow, of a mottled-grey hue, and with an

enormous beak; the smallest not larger than a sparrow. The large

one makes its nest in clay cliffs, three or four miles distant

from this place. None of the kingfishers are so brilliant in

colour as our English species. The blossoms on the trees attract

two or three species of hummingbirds, the most conspicuous of

which is a large swallow-tailed kind (Eupetomena macroura), with

a brilliant livery of emerald green and steel blue. I noticed

that it did not remain so long poised in the air before the

flowers as the other smaller species; it perched more frequently,

and sometimes darted after small insects on the wing.

Emerging from the grove there is a long stretch of sandy beach;

the land is high and rocky, and the belt of wood which skirts the

river banks is much broader than it is elsewhere. At length,

after rounding a projecting bluff, the bay at Mapiri is reached.

The river view is characteristic of the Tapajos; the shores are

wooded, and on the opposite side is a line of clay cliffs with

hills in the background clothed with a rolling forest. A long

spit of sand extends into mid-river, beyond which is an immense

expanse of dark water, the further shore of the Tapajos being

barely visible as a thin grey line of trees on the horizon. The

transparency of air and water in the dry season when the brisk

east wind is blowing, and the sharpness of outline of hills,

woods, and sandy beaches, give a great charm to this spot.

While resting in the shade during the great heat of the early

hours of afternoon, I used to find amusement in watching the

proceedings of the sand wasps. A small pale green kind of Bembex

(Bembex ciliata), was plentiful near the bay of Mapiri. When they

are at work, a number of little jets of sand are seen shooting

over the surface of the sloping bank. The little miners excavate

with their forefeet, which are strongly built and furnished with

a fringe of stiff bristles; they work with wonderful rapidity,

and the sand thrown out beneath their bodies issues in continuous

streams. They are solitary wasps, each female working on her own

account. After making a gallery two or three inches in length in

a slanting direction from the surface, the owner backs out and

takes a few turns round the orifice apparently to see whether it

is well made, but in reality, I believe, to take note of the

locality, that she may find it again. This done, the busy

workwoman flies away-- but returns, after an absence varying in

different cases from a few minutes to an hour or more, with a fly

in her grasp, with which she re-enters her mine. On again

emerging, the entrance is carefully closed with sand. During this

interval she has laid an egg on the body of the fly which she had

previously benumbed with her sting, and which is to serve as food

for the soft, footless grub soon to be hatched from the egg. From

what I could make out, the Bembex makes a fresh excavation for

every egg to be deposited; at least in two or three of the

galleries which I opened there was only one fly enclosed.

I have said that the Bembex on leaving her mine took note of the

locality; this seemed to be the explanation of the short delay

previous to her taking flight; on rising in the air also the

insects generally flew round over the place before making

straight off. Another nearly allied but much larger species, the

Monedula signata, whose habits I observed on the banks of the

Upper Amazons, sometimes excavates its mine solitarily on sand-

banks recently laid bare in the middle of the river, and closes

the orifice before going in search of prey. In these cases the

insect has to make a journey of at least half a mile to procure

the kind of fly, the Motuca (Hadrus lepidotus), with which it

provisions its cell. I often noticed it to take a few turns in

the air round the place before starting; on its return it made

without hesitation straight for the closed mouth of the mine. I

was convinced that the insects noted the bearings of their nests

and the direction they took in flying from them. The proceeding

in this and similar cases (I have read of something analogous

having been noticed in hive bees) seems to be a mental act of the

same nature as that which takes place in ourselves when

recognising a locality. The senses, however, must be immeasurably

more keen and the mental operation much more certain in them than

it is in man, for to my eye there was absolutely no landmark on

the even surface of sand which could serve as guide, and the

borders of the forest were not nearer than half a mile. The

action of the wasp would be said to be instinctive; but it seems

plain that the instinct is no mysterious and unintelligible

agent, but a mental process in each individual, differing from

the same in man only by its unerring certainty. The mind of the

insect appears to be so constituted that the impression of

external objects or the want felt, causes it to act with a

precision which seems to us like that of a machine constructed to

move in a certain given way. I have noticed in Indian boys a

sense of locality almost as keen as that possessed by the sand-

wasp. An old Portuguese and myself, accompanied by a young lad

about ten years of age, were once lost in the forest in a most

solitary place on the banks of the main river. Our case seemed

hopeless, and it did not for some time occur to us to consult our

little companion, who had been playing with his bow and arrow all

the way while we were hunting, apparently taking no note of the

route. When asked, however, he pointed out, in a moment, the

right direction of our canoe. He could not explain how he knew; I

believe he had noted the course we had taken almost

unconsciously; the sense of locality in his case seemed

instinctive.

The Monedula signata is a good friend to travellers in those

parts of the Amazons which are infested by the blood-thirsty

Motuca. I first noticed its habit of preying on this fly one day

when we landed to make our fire and dine on the borders of the

forest adjoining a sand-bank. The insect is as large as a hornet,

and has a most waspish appearance. I was rather startled when one

out of the flock which was hovering about us flew straight at my

face-- it had espied a Motuca on my neck and was thus pouncing

upon it. It seizes the fly not with its jaws, but with its fore

and middle feet, and carries it off tightly held to its breast.

Wherever the traveller lands on the Upper Amazons in the

neighbourhood of a sand-bank he is sure to be attended by one or

more of these useful vermin-killers.

The bay of Mapiri was the limit of my day excursions by the

river-side to the west of Santarem. A person may travel, however,

on foot, as Indians frequently do, in the dry season for fifty or

sixty miles along the broad clean sandy beaches of the Tapajos.

The only obstacles are the rivulets, most of which are fordable

when the waters are low. To the east my rambles extended to the

banks of the Mahica inlet. This enters the Amazons about three

miles below Santarem, where the clear stream of the Tapajos

begins to be discoloured by the turbid waters of the main river.

The Mahica has a broad margin of rich level pasture, limited on

each side by the straight, tall hedge of forest. On the Santarem

side it is skirted by high wooded ridges. A landscape of this

description always produced in me an impression of sadness and

loneliness which the luxuriant virgin forests that closely hedge

in most of the by-waters of the Amazons never created. The

pastures are destitute of flowers, and also of animal life, with

the exception of a few small plain-coloured birds and solitary

Caracara eagles whining from the topmost branches of dead trees

on the forest borders. A few settlers have built their palm-

thatched and mud-walled huts on the banks of the Mahica, and

occupy themselves chiefly in tending small herds of cattle. They

seemed to be all wretchedly poor. The oxen however, though small,

were sleek and fat, and the district most promising for

agricultural and pastoral employments. In the wet season the

waters gradually rise and cover the meadows, but there is plenty

of room for the removal of the cattle to higher ground. The lazy

and ignorant people seem totally unable to profit by these

advantages. The houses have no gardens or plantations near them.

I was told it was useless to plant anything, because the cattle

devoured the young shoots. In this country, grazing and planting

are very rarely carried on together, for the people seem to have

no notion of enclosing patches of ground for cultivation. They

say it is too much trouble to make enclosures. The construction

of a durable fence is certainly a difficult matter, for it is

only two or three kinds of tree which will serve the purpose in

being free from the attacks of insects, and these are scattered

far and wide through the woods.

Although the meadows were unproductive ground to a naturalist,

the woods on their borders teemed with life; the number and

variety of curious insects of all orders which occurred here was

quite wonderful. The belt of forest was intersected by numerous

pathways leading from one settler's house to another. The ground

was moist, but the trees were not so lofty or their crowns so

densely packed together as in other parts; the sun's light and

heat, therefore, had freer access to the soil, and the underwood

was much more diversified than in the virgin forest. I never saw

so many kinds of dwarf palms together as here; pretty miniature

species; some not more than five feet high, and bearing little

clusters of round fruit not larger than a good bunch of currants.

A few of the forest trees had the size and strongly-branched

figures of our oaks, and a similar bark. One noble palm grew here

in great abundance, and gave a distinctive character to the

district. This was the Oenocarpus distichus, one of the kinds

called Bacaba by the natives. It grows to a height of forty to

fifty feet. The crown is of a lustrous dark-green colour, and of

a singularly flattened or compressed shape, the leaves being

arranged on each side in nearly the same plane. When I first saw

this tree on the campos, where the east wind blows with great

force night and day for several months, I thought the shape of

the crown was due to the leaves being prevented from radiating

equally by the constant action of the breezes. But the plane of

growth is not always in the direction of the wind, and the crown

has the same shape when the tree grows in the sheltered woods.

The fruit of this fine palm ripens towards the end of the year,

and is much esteemed by the natives, who manufacture a pleasant

drink from it similar to the assai described in a former chapter,

by rubbing off the coat of pulp from the nuts, and mixing it with

water. A bunch of fruit weighs thirty or forty pounds. The

beverage has a milky appearance, and an agreeable nutty flavour.

The tree is very difficult to climb, on account of the smoothness

of its stein; consequently the natives, whenever they want a

bunch of fruit for a bowl of Bacaba, cut down and thus destroy a

tree which has taken a score or two of years to grow, in order to

get at it.

In the lower part of the Mahica woods, towards the river, there

is a bed of stiff white clay, which supplies the people of

Santarem with material for the manufacture of coarse pottery and

cooking utensils: all the kettles, saucepans, mandioca ovens,

coffee-pots, washing-vessels, and so forth, of the poorer

classes, throughout the country, are made of this same plastic

clay, which occurs at short intervals over the whole surface of

the, Amazons valley, from the neighbourhood of Para to within the

Peruvian borders, and forms part of the great Tabatinga marl

deposit. To enable the vessels to stand the fire, the bark of a

certain tree, called Caraipe, is burned and mixed with the clay,

which gives tenacity to the ware. Caraipe is an article of

commerce-- being sold and packed in baskets at the shops in most

of the towns. The shallow pits, excavated in the marly soil at

Mahica, were very attractive to many kinds of mason bees and

wasps, who made use of the clay to build their nests with--so we

have here another example of the curious analogy that exists

between the arts of insects and those of man. I spent many an

hour watching their proceedings; a short account of the habits of

some of these busy creatures may be interesting.

The most conspicuous was a large yellow and black wasp, with a

remarkably long and narrow waist, the Pelopaeus fistularis. This

species collected the clay in little round pellets, which it

carried off, after rolling them into a convenient shape, in its

mouth. It came straight to the pit with a loud hum, and, on

alighting, lost not a moment in beginning to work-- finishing the

kneading of its little load in two or three minutes. The nest of

this wasp is shaped like a pouch, two inches in length, and is

attached to a branch or other projecting object. One of these

restless artificers once began to build on the handle of a chest

in the cabin of my canoe, when we were stationary at a place for

several days. It was so intent on its work that it allowed me to

inspect the movements of its mouth with a lens while it was

laying on the mortar. Every fresh pellet was brought in with a

triumphant song, which changed to a cheerful busy hum when it

alighted and began to work. The little ball of moist clay was

laid on the edge of the cell, and then spread out around the

circular rim by means of the lower lip guided by the mandibles.

The insect placed itself astride over the rim to work, and, on

finishing each addition to the structure, took a turn round,

patting the sides with its feet inside and out before flying off

to gather a fresh pellet. It worked only in sunny weather, and

the previous layer was sometimes not quite dry when the new

coating was added. The whole structure takes about a week to

complete. I left the place before the gay little builder had

quite finished her task; she did not accompany the canoe,

although we moved along the bank of the river very slowly. On

opening closed nests of this species, which are common in the

neighbourhood of Mahica, I always found them to be stocked with

small spiders of the genus Gastracantha, in the usual half-dead

state to which the mother wasps reduce the insects which are to

serve as food for their progeny.

Besides the Pelopaeus, there were three or four kinds of

Trypoxylon, a genus also found in Europe, and which some

naturalists have supposed to be parasitic, because the legs are

not furnished with the usual row of strong bristles for digging,

characteristic of the family to which it belongs. The species of

Trypoxylon, however, are all building wasps; two of them which I

observed (T. albitarse and an undescribed species) provision

their nests with spiders, a third (T. aurifrons) with small

caterpillars. Their habits are similar to those of the Pelopaeus-

- namely, they carry off the clay in their mandibles, and have a

different song when they hasten away with the burden to that

which they sing whilst at work. Trypoxylon albitarse, which is a

large black kind, three-quarters of an inch in length, makes a

tremendous fuss while building its cell. It often chooses the

walls or doors of chambers for this purpose, and when two or

three are at work in the same place, their loud humming keeps the

house in an uproar. The cell is a tubular structure about three

inches in length. T. aurifrons, a much smaller species, makes a

neat little nest shaped like a carafe, building rows of them

together in the corners of verandahs.

But the most numerous and interesting of the clay artificers are

the workers of a species of social bee, the Melipona fasciculata.

The Meliponae in tropical America take the place of the true

Apides, to which the European hive-bee belongs, and which are

here unknown; they are generally much smaller insects than the

hive-bees and have no sting. The M. fasciculata is about a third

shorter than the Apis mellifica: its colonies are composed of an

immense number of individuals; the workers are generally seen

collecting pollen in the same way as other bees, but great

numbers are employed gathering clay. The rapidity and precision

of their movements while thus engaged are wonderful. They first

scrape the clay with their jaws; the small portions gathered are

then cleared by the anterior paws and passed to the second pair

of feet, which, in their turn, convey them to the large foliated

expansions of the hind shanks which are adapted normally in bees,

as every one knows, for the collection of pollen. The middle feet

pat the growing pellets of mortar on the hind legs to keep them

in a compact shape as the particles are successively added. The

little hodsmen soon have as much as they can carry, and they then

fly off. I was for some time puzzled to know what the bees did

with the clay; but I had afterwards plenty of opportunity for

ascertaining. They construct their combs in any suitable crevice

in trunks of trees or perpendicular banks, and the clay is

required to build up a wall so as to close the gap, with the

exception of a small orifice for their own entrance and exit.

Most kinds of Meliponae are in this way masons as well as workers

in wax, and pollen-gatherers. One little species (undescribed)

not more than two lines long, builds a neat tubular gallery of

clay, kneaded with some viscid substance, outside the entrance to

its hive, besides blocking up the crevice in the tree within

which it is situated. The mouth of the tube is trumpet-shaped,

and at the entrance a number of pigmy bees are always stationed,

apparently acting as the sentinels.

A hive of the Melipona fasciculata, which I saw opened, contained

about two quarts of pleasant-tasting liquid honey. The bees, as

already remarked, have no sting, but they bite furiously when

their colonies are disturbed. The Indian who plundered the hive

was completely covered by them; they took a particular fancy to

the hair of his head, and fastened on it by hundreds. I found

forty-five species of these bees in different parts of the

country; the largest was half an inch in length; the smallest

were extremely minute, some kinds being not more than one-twelfth

of an inch in size. These tiny fellows are often very troublesome

in the woods, on account of their familiarity, for they settle on

one's face and hands, and, in crawling about, get into the eyes

and mouth, or up the nostrils.

The broad expansion of the hind shanks of bees is applied in some

species to other uses besides the conveyance of clay and pollen.

The female of the handsome golden and black Euglossa Surinamensis

has this palette of very large size. This species builds its

solitary nest also in crevices of walls or trees-- but it closes

up the chink with fragments of dried leaves and sticks cemented

together, instead of clay. It visits the caju trees, and gathers

with its hind legs a small quantity of the gum which exudes from

their trunks. To this it adds the other materials required from

the neighbouring bushes, and when laden flies off to its nest.

To the south my rambles never extended further than the banks of

the Irura, a stream which rises amongst the hills already spoken

of, and running through a broad valley, wooded along the margins

of the watercourses, falls into the Tapajos, at the head of the

bay of Mapiri. All beyond, as before remarked, is terra incognita

to the inhabitants of Santarem. The Brazilian settlers on the

banks of the Amazons seem to have no taste for explorations by

land, and I could find no person willing to accompany me on an

excursion further towards the interior. Such a journey would be

exceedingly difficult in this country, even if men could be

obtained willing to undertake it. Besides, there were reports of

a settlement of fierce runaway negroes on the Serra de Mururaru,

and it was considered unsafe to go far in that direction, except

with a large armed party.

I visited the banks of the Irura and the rich woods accompanying

it, and two other streams in the same neighbourhood, one called

the Panema, and the other the Urumari, once or twice a week

during the whole time of my residence in Santarem, and made large

collections of their natural productions. These forest brooks,

with their clear, cold waters brawling over their sandy or pebbly

beds through wild tropical glens, always had a great charm for

me. The beauty of the moist, cool, and luxuriant glades was

heightened by the contrast they afforded to the sterile country

around them. The bare or scantily wooded hills which surround the

valley are parched by the rays of the vertical sun. One of them,

the Pico do Irura, forms a nearly perfect cone, rising from a

small grassy plain to a height of 500 or 600 feet, and its ascent

is excessively fatiguing after the long walk from Santarem over

the campos. I tried it one day, but did not reach the summit. A

dense growth of coarse grasses clothed the steep sides of the

hill, with here and there a stunted tree of kinds found in the

plain beneath. In bared places, a red crumbly soil is exposed;

and in one part a mass of rock, which appeared to me, from its

compact texture and the absence of stratification, to be

porphyritic; but I am not geologically sufficient to pronounce on

such questions. Mr. Wallace states that he found fragments of

scoriae, and believes the hill to be a volcanic cone. To the

south and east of this isolated peak, the elongated ridges or

table-topped hills attain a somewhat greater elevation.

The forest in the valley is limited to a tract a few hundred

yards in width on each side the different streams; in places

where these run along the bases of the hills, the hillsides

facing the water are also richly wooded, although their opposite

declivities are bare or nearly so. The trees are lofty and of

great variety; amongst them are colossal examples of the Brazil

nut tree (Bertholletia excelsa), and the Pikia. This latter bears

a large eatable fruit, curious in having a hollow chamber between

the pulp and the kernel, beset with hard spines which produce

serious wounds if they enter the skin. The eatable part appeared

to me not much more palatable than a raw potato; but the

inhabitants of Santarem are very fond of it, and undertake the

most toilsome journeys on foot to gather a basketful. The tree

which yields the tonka bean (Dipteryx odorata), used in Europe

for scenting snuff, is also of frequent occurrence here. It grows

to an immense height, and the fruit, which, although a legume, is

of a rounded shape, and has but one seed, can be gathered only

when it falls to the ground. A considerable quantity (from 1000

to 3000 pounds) is exported annually from Santarem, the produce

of the whole region of the Tapajos. An endless diversity of trees

and shrubs, some beautiful in flower and foliage, others bearing

curious fruits, grow in this matted wilderness. It would be

tedious to enumerate many of them. I was much struck with the

variety of trees with large and diversely-shaped fruits growing

out of the trunk and branches, some within a few inches of the

ground, like the cacao. Most of them are called by the natives

Cupu, and the trees are of inconsiderable height. One of them

called Cupu-ai bears a fruit of elliptical shape and of a dingy

earthen colour six or seven inches long, the shell of which is

woody and thin, and contains a small number of seeds loosely

enveloped in a juicy pulp of very pleasant flavour. The fruits

hang like clayey ants'-nests from the branches. Another kind more

nearly resembles the cacao; this is shaped something like the

cucumber, and has a green ribbed husk. It bears the name of Cacao

de macaco, or monkey's chocolate, but the seeds are smaller than

those of the common cacao. I tried once or twice to make

chocolate from them. They contain plenty of oil of similar

fragrance to that of the ordinary cacao-nut, and make up very

well into paste; but the beverage has a repulsive clayey colour

and an inferior flavour.

My excursions to the Irura had always a picnic character. A few

rude huts are scattered through the valley, but they are tenanted

only for a few days in the year, when their owners come to gather

and roast the mandioca of their small clearings. We used

generally to take with us two boys--one negro, the other Indian--

to carry our provisions for the day; a few pounds of beef or

dried fish, farinha and bananas, with plates, and a kettle for

cooking. Jose carried the guns, ammunition and game-bags, and I

the apparatus for entomologising--the insect net, a large

leathern bag with compartments for corked boxes, phials, glass

tubes, and so forth. It was our custom to start soon after

sunrise, when the walk over the campos was cool and pleasant, the

sky without a cloud, and the grass wet with dew. The paths are

mere faint tracks; in our early excursions it was difficult to

avoid missing our way. We were once completely lost, and wandered

about for several hours over the scorching soil without

recovering the road. A fine view is obtained of the country from

the rising ground about half way across the waste. Thence to the

bottom of the valley is a long, gentle, grassy slope, bare of

trees. The strangely-shaped hills; the forest at their feet,

richly varied with palms; the bay of Mapiri on the right, with

the dark waters of the Tapajos and its white glistening shores,

are all spread out before one, as if depicted on canvas. The

extreme transparency of the atmosphere gives to all parts of the

landscape such clearness of outline that the idea of distance is

destroyed, and one fancies the whole to be almost within reach of

the hand. Descending into the valley, a small brook has to be

crossed, and then half a mile of sandy plain, whose vegetation

wears a peculiar aspect, owing to the predominance of a stemless

palm, the Curua (Attalea spectabilis), whose large, beautifully

pinnated, rigid leaves rise directly from the soil. The fruit of

this species is similar to the coconut, containing milk in the

interior of the kernel, but it is much inferior to it in size.

Here, and indeed all along the road, we saw, on most days in the

wet season, tracks of the jaguar. We never, however, met with the

animal, although we sometimes heard his loud "hough" in the night

while lying in our hammocks at home, in Santarem, and knew he

must he lurking somewhere near us.

My best hunting ground was a part of the valley sheltered on one

side by a steep hill whose declivity, like the swampy valley

beneath, was clothed with magnificent forest. We used to make our

halt in a small cleared place, tolerably free from ants and close

to the water. Here we assembled after our toilsome morning's hunt

in different directions through the woods, took our well-earned

meal on the ground--two broad leaves of the wild banana serving

us for a tablecloth--and rested for a couple of hours during the

great heat of the afternoon. The diversity of animal productions

was as wonderful as that of the vegetable forms in this rich

locality. It was pleasant to lie down during the hottest part of

the day, when my people lay asleep, and watch the movements of

animals. Sometimes a troop of Anus (Crotophaga), a glossy black-

plumaged bird, which lives in small societies in grassy places,

would come in from the campos, one by one, calling to each other

as they moved from tree to tree. Or a Toucan (Rhamphastos ariel)

silently hopped or ran along and up the branches, peeping into

chinks and crevices. Notes of solitary birds resounded from a

distance through the wilderness. Occasionally a sulky Trogon

would be seen, with its brilliant green back and rose-coloured

breast, perched for an hour without moving on a low branch. A

number of large, fat lizards two feet long, of a kind called by

the natives Jacuaru (Teius teguexim) were always observed in the

still hours of midday scampering with great clatter over the dead

leaves, apparently in chase of each other. The fat of this bulky

lizard is much prized by the natives, who apply it as a poultice

to draw palm spines or even grains of shot from the flesh. Other

lizards of repulsive aspect, about three feet in length when full

grown, splashed about and swam in the water, sometimes emerging

to crawl into hollow trees on the banks of the stream, where I

once found a female and a nest of eggs. The lazy flapping flight

of large blue and black morpho butterflies high in the air, the

hum of insects, and many inanimate sounds, contributed their

share to the total impression this strange solitude produced.

Heavy fruits from the crowns of trees which were mingled together

at a giddy height overhead, fell now and then with a startling

"plop" into the water. The breeze, not felt below, stirred in the

topmost branches, setting the twisted and looped sipos in motion,

which creaked and groaned in a great variety of notes. To these

noises were added the monotonous ripple of the brook, which had

its little cascade at every score or two yards of its course.

We frequently fell in with an old Indian woman, named Cecilia,

who had a small clearing in the woods. She had the reputation of

being a witch (feiticeira), and I found, on talking with her,

that she prided herself on her knowledge of the black art. Her

slightly curled hair showed that she was not a pureblood Indian--

I was told her father was a dark mulatto. She was always very

civil to our party, showing us the best paths, explaining the

virtues and uses of different plants, and so forth. I was much

amused at the accounts she gave of the place. Her solitary life

and the gloom of the woods seemed to have filled her with

superstitious fancies. She said gold was contained in the bed of

the brook, and that the murmur of the water over the little

cascades was the voice of the "water-mother" revealing the hidden

treasure. A narrow pass between two hillsides was the portao or

gate, and all within, along the wooded banks of the stream, was

enchanted ground. The hill underneath which we were encamped was

the enchanter's abode, and she gravely told us she often had long

conversations with him. These myths were of her own invention,

and in the same way an endless number of other similar ones have

originated in the childish imaginations of the poor Indian and

half-breed inhabitants of different parts of the country. It is

to be remarked, however, that the Indian men all become sceptics

after a little intercourse with the whites. The witchcraft of

poor Cecilia was of a very weak quality. It consisted of throwing

pinches of powdered bark of a certain tree, and other substances,

into the fire while muttering a spell--a prayer repeated

backwards--and adding the name of the person on whom she wished

the incantation to operate. Some of the feiticeiras, however,

play more dangerous tricks than this harmless mummery. They are

acquainted with many poisonous plants, and although they seldom

have the courage to administer a fatal dose, sometimes contrive

to convey to their victim sufficient to cause serious illness.

The motive by which they are actuated is usually jealousy of

other women in love matters. While I resided in Santarem, a case

of what was called witchcraft was tried by the sub-delegado, in

which a highly respectable white lady was the complainant. It

appeared that some feiticeira had sprinkled a quantity of the

acrid juice of a large arum on her linen as it was hanging out to

dry, and it was thought this had caused a serious eruption under

which the lady suffered.

I seldom met with any of the larger animals in these excursions.

We never saw a mammal of any kind on the campos; but tracks of

three species were seen occasionally besides those of the jaguar;

these belonged to a small tiger cat, a deer, and an opossum, all

of which animals must have been very rare, and probably nocturnal

in their habits, with the exception of the deer. I saw in the

woods, on one occasion, a small flock of monkeys, and once had an

opportunity of watching the movements of a sloth. The latter was

of the kind called by Cuvier Bradypus tridactylus, which is

clothed with shaggy grey hair. The natives call it, in the Tupi

language, Al ybyrete (in Portuguese, Preguica da terra firme), or

sloth of the mainland, to distinguish it from the Bradypus

infuscatus, which has a long, black and tawny stripe between the

shoulders, and is called Al Ygapo (Preguica das vargens), or

sloth of the flooded lands. Some travellers in South America have

described the sloth as very nimble in its native woods, and have

disputed the justness of the name which has been bestowed upon

it. The inhabitants of the Amazons region, however, both Indians

and descendants of the Portuguese, hold to the common opinion,

and consider the sloth as the type of laziness. It is very common

for one native to call another, in reproaching him for idleness,

"bicho do Embauba" (beast of the Cecropia tree); the leaves of

the Cecropia being the food of the sloth. It is a strange sight

to watch the uncouth creature, fit production of these silent

shades, lazily moving from branch to branch. Every movement

betrays, not indolence exactly, but extreme caution. He never

looses his hold from one branch without first securing himself to

the next, and when he does not immediately find a bough to grasp

with the rigid hooks into which his paws are so curiously

transformed, he raises his body, supported on his hind legs, and

claws around in search of a fresh foothold. After watching the

animal for about half an hour I gave him a charge of shot. He

fell with a terrific crash, but caught a bough, in his descent,

with his powerful claws, and remained suspended. Our Indian lad

tried to climb the tree, but was driven back by swarms of

stinging ants; the poor little fellow slid down in a sad

predicament, and plunged into the brook to free himself. Two days

afterwards I found the body of the sloth on the ground, the

animal having dropped on the relaxation of the muscles a few

hours after death. In one of our voyages, Mr. Wallace and I saw a

sloth (B. infuscatus) swimming across a river, at a place where

it was probably 300 yards broad. I believe it is not generally

known that this animal takes to the water. Our men caught the

beast, cooked, and ate him.

In returning from these trips we were sometimes benighted on the

campos. We did not care for this on moonlit nights, when there

was no danger of losing the path. The great heat felt in the

middle hours of the day is much mitigated by four o'clock in the

afternoon; a few birds then make their appearance; small flocks

of ground doves run about the stony hillocks parrots pass over

and sometimes settle in the ilhas; pretty little finches of

several species, especially one kind, streaked with olive-brown

and yellow, and somewhat resembling our yellowhammer, but I

believe not belonging to the same genus, hop about the grass,

enlivening the place with a few musical notes. The Carashue

(Mimus) also then resumes its mellow, blackbird-like song; and

two or three species of hummingbird, none of which, however, are

peculiar to the district, flit about from tree to tree. On the

other hand, the little blue and yellow-striped lizards, which

abound amongst the herbage during the scorching heats of midday,

retreat towards this hour to their hiding-places, together with

the day-flying insects and the numerous campo butterflies. Some

of these latter resemble greatly our English species found in

heathy places, namely, a fritillary, Argynnis (Euptoieta)

Hegesia, and two smaller kinds, which are deceptively like the

little Nemeobius Lucina. After sunset, the air becomes

delightfully cool and fragrant with the aroma of fruits and

flowers. The nocturnal animals then come forth. A monstrous hairy

spider, five inches in expanse, of a brown colour with yellowish

lines along its stout legs--which is very common here, inhabiting

broad tubular galleries smoothly lined with silken web--may be

then caught on the watch at the mouth of its burrow. It is only

seen at night, and I think does not wander far from its den; the

gallery is about two inches in diameter and runs in a slanting

direction, about two feet from the surface of the soil.

As soon as it is night, swarms of goatsuckers suddenly make their

appearance, wheeling about in a noiseless, ghostly manner, in

chase of night-flying insects. They sometimes descend and settle

on a low branch, or even on the pathway close to where one is

walking, and then squatting down on their heels, are difficult to

distinguish from the surrounding soil. One kind has a long forked

tail. In the daytime they are concealed in the wooded ilhas,

where I very often saw them crouched and sleeping on the ground

in the dense shade. They make no nest, but lay their eggs on the

bare ground. Their breeding time is in the rainy season, and

fresh eggs are found from December to June. Later in the evening,

the singular notes of the goatsuckers are heard, one species

crying Quao, Quao, another Chuck-cococao; and these are repeated

at intervals far into the night in the most monotonous manner. A

great number of toads are seen on the bare sandy pathways soon

after sunset. One of them was quite a colossus, about seven

inches in length and three in height. This big fellow would never

move out of the way until we were close to him. If we jerked him

out of the path with a stick, he would slowly recover himself,

and then turn round to have a good impudent stare. I have counted

as many as thirty of these monsters within a distance of half a

mile.

CHAPTER IX

VOYAGE UP THE TAPAJOS

Preparations for Voyage-First Day's Sail--Loss of Boat--Altar de

Chao--Modes of Obtaining Fish--Difficulties with Crew--Arrival at

Aveyros--Excursions in the Neighbourhood--White Cebus, and Habits

and Dispositions of Cebi Monkeys--Tame Parrot--Missionary

Settlement--Entering the River Cupari--Adventure with Anaconda--

Smoke-dried Monkey--Boa-constrictor--Village of Mundurucu

Indians, and Incursion of a Wild Tribe--Falls of the Cupari--

Hyacinthine Macaw--Re-emerge into the broad Tapajos--Descent of

River to Santarem

June, 1852--I will now proceed to relate the incidents of my

principal excursion up the Tapajos, which I began to prepare for,

after residing about six months at Santarem.

I was obliged, this time, to travel in a vessel of my own; partly

because trading canoes large enough to accommodate a Naturalist

very seldom pass between Santarem and the thinly-peopled

settlements on the river, and partly because I wished to explore

districts at my ease, far out of the ordinary track of traders. I

soon found a suitable canoe; a two-masted cuberta, of about six

tons' burthen, strongly built of Itauba or stonewood, a timber of

which all the best vessels in the Amazons country are

constructed, and said to be more durable than teak. This I hired

of a merchant at the cheap rate of 500 reis, or about one

shilling and twopence per day. I fitted up the cabin, which, as

usual in canoes of this class, was a square structure with its

floor above the waterline, as my sleeping and working apartment.

My chests, filled with store-boxes and trays for specimens, were

arranged on each side, and above them were shelves and pegs to

hold my little stock of useful books, guns, and game bags, boards

and materials for skinning and preserving animals, botanical

press and papers, drying cages for insects. and birds and so

forth. A rush mat was spread on the floor, and my rolled-up

hammock, to be used only when sleeping ashore, served for a

pillow. The arched covering over the hold in the fore part of the

vessel contained, besides a sleeping place for the crew, my heavy

chests, stock of salt provisions and groceries, and an assortment

of goods wherewith to pay my way amongst the half-civilised or

savage inhabitants of the interior. The goods consisted of

cashaca, powder and shot, a few pieces of coarse, checked cotton

cloth and prints, fish-hooks, axes, large knives, harpoons,

arrowheads, looking-glasses, beads, and other small wares. Jose

and myself were busy for many days arranging these matters. We

had to salt the meat and grind a supply of coffee ourselves.

Cooking utensils, crockery, water-jars, a set of useful

carpenter's tools, and many other things had to be provided. We

put all the groceries and other perishable articles in tin

canisters and boxes, having found that this was the only way of

preserving them from dampness and insects in this climate. When

all was done, our canoe looked like a little floating workshop.

I could get little information about the river, except vague

accounts of the difficulty of the navigation, and the famito or

hunger which reigned on its banks. As I have before mentioned, it

is about 1000 miles in length, and flows from south to north; in

magnitude it stands the sixth amongst the tributaries of the

Amazons. It is navigable, however, by sailing vessels only for

about 160 miles above Santarem. The hiring of men to navigate the

vessel was our greatest trouble. Jose was to be my helmsman, and

we thought three other hands would be the fewest with which we

could venture. But all our endeavours to procure these were

fruitless. Santarem is worse provided with Indian canoemen than

any other town on the river. I found on applying to the tradesmen

to whom I had brought letters of introduction and to the

Brazilian authorities, that almost any favour would be sooner

granted than the loan of hands. A stranger, however, is obliged

to depend on them; for it is impossible to find an Indian or

half-caste whom someone or other of the head-men do not claim as

owing him money or labour. I was afraid at one time I should have

been forced to abandon my project on this account. At length,

after many rebuffs and disappointments, Jose contrived to engage

one man, a mulatto, named Pinto, a native of the mining country

of Interior Brazil, who knew the river well; and with these two I

resolved to start, hoping to meet with others at the first

village on the road.

We left Santarem on the 8th of June. The waters were then at

their highest point, and my canoe had been anchored close to the

back door of our house. The morning was cool and a brisk wind

blew, with which we sped rapidly past the white-washed houses and

thatched Indian huts of the suburbs. The charming little bay of

Mapiri was soon left behind; we then doubled Point Maria Josepha,

a headland formed of high cliffs of Tabatinga clay, capped with

forest. This forms the limit of the river view from Santarem, and

here we had our last glimpse, at a distance of seven or eight

miles, of the city, a bright line of tiny white buildings resting

on the dark water. A stretch of wild, rocky, uninhabited coast

was before us, and we were fairly within the Tapajos.

Our course lay due west for about twenty miles. The wind

increased as we neared Point Cururu, where the river bends from

its northern course. A vast expanse of water here stretches to

the west and south, and the waves, with a strong breeze, run very

high. As we were doubling the Point, the cable which held our

montaria in tow astern, parted, and in endeavouring to recover

the boat, without which we knew it would be difficult to get

ashore on many parts of the coast, we were very near capsizing.

We tried to tack down the river; a vain attempt with a strong

breeze and no current. Our ropes snapped, the sails flew to rags,

and the vessel, which we now found was deficient in ballast,

heeled over frightfully. Contrary to Jose's advice, I ran the

cuberta into a little bay, thinking to cast anchor there and wait

for the boat coming up with the wind; but the anchor dragged on

the smooth sandy bottom, and the vessel went broadside on to the

rocky beach. With a little dexterous management, but not until

after we had sustained some severe bumps, we managed to get out

of this difficulty, clearing the rocky point at a close shave

with our jib-sail. Soon after, we drifted into the smooth water

of a sheltered bay which leads to the charmingly situated village

of Altar do Chao; and we were obliged to give up our attempt to

recover the montaria.

The little settlement, Altar de Chao (altar of the ground, or

Earth altar), owes its singular name to the existence at the

entrance to the harbour of one of those strange flat-topped hills

which are so common in this part of the Amazons country, shaped

like the high altar in Roman Catholic churches. It is an isolated

one, and much lower in height than the similarly truncated hills

and ridges near Almeyrim, being elevated probably not more than

300 feet above the level of the river. It is bare of trees, but

covered in places with a species of fern. At the head of the bay

is an inner harbour, which communicates by a channel with a

series of lakes lying in the valleys between hills, and

stretching far into the interior of the land. The village is

peopled almost entirely by semi-civilised Indians, to the number

of sixty or seventy families; and the scattered houses are

arranged in broad streets on a strip of greensward, at the foot

of a high, gloriously-wooded ridge.

I was so much pleased with the situation of this settlement, and

the number of rare birds and insects which tenanted the forest,

that I revisited it in the following year, and spent four months

making collections. The village itself is a neglected, poverty-

stricken place-- the governor (Captain of Trabalhadores, or

Indian workmen) being an old, apathetic, half-breed, who had

spent all his life here. The priest was a most profligate

character; I seldom saw him sober; he was a white, however, and a

man of good ability. I may as well mention here, that a moral and

zealous priest is a great rarity in this province-- the only

ministers of religion in the whole country who appeared sincere

in their calling being the Bishop of Para and the Vicars of Ega

on the Upper Amazons and Obydos. The houses in the village

swarmed with vermin; bats in the thatch, fire-ants (formiga de

fogo) under the floors; cockroaches and spiders on the walls.

Very few of them had wooden doors and locks.

Altar de Chao was originally a settlement of the aborigines, and

was called Burari. The Indians were always hostile to the

Portuguese, and during the disorders of 1835-6 joined the rebels

in their attack on Santarem. Few of them escaped the subsequent

slaughter, and for this reason there is now scarcely an old or

middle-aged man in the place. As in all the semi-civilised

villages, where the original orderly and industrious habits of

the Indian have been lost without anything being learned from the

whites to make amends, the inhabitants live in the greatest

poverty. The scarcity of fish in the clear waters and rocky bays

of the neighbourhood is no doubt partly the cause of the poverty

and perennial hunger which reign here. When we arrived in the

port, our canoe was crowded with the half-naked villagers--men,

women, and children-- who came to beg each a piece of salt

pirarucu "for the love of God." They are not quite so badly off

in the dry season. The shallow lakes and bays then contain plenty

of fish, and the boys and women go out at night to spear them by

torchlight-- the torches being made of thin strips of green bark

from the leaf-stalks of palms, tied in bundles. Many excellent

kinds of fish are thus obtained; amongst them the Pescada, whose

white and flaky flesh, when boiled, has the appearance and

flavour of cod-fish; and the Tucunare (Cichla temensis), a

handsome species, with a large prettily-coloured, eye-like spot

on its tail. Many small Salmonidae are also met with, and a kind

of sole, called Aramassa, which moves along the clear sandy

bottom of the bay. At these times a species of sting-ray is

common on the sloping beach, and bathers are frequently stung

most severely by it. The weapon of this fish is a strong blade

with jagged edges, about three inches long, growing from the side

of the long fleshy tail. I once saw a woman wounded by it whilse

bathing; she shrieked frightfully, and was obliged to be carried

to her hammock, where she lay for a week in great pain; I have

known strong men to be lamed for many months by the sting.

There was a mode of taking fish here which I had not before seen

employed, but found afterwards to be very common on the Tapajos.

This is by using a poisonous liana called Timbo (Paullinia

pinnata). It will act only in the still waters of creeks and

pools. A few rods, a yard in length, are mashed and soaked in the

water, which quickly becomes discoloured with the milky

deleterious juice of the plant. In about half an hour all the

smaller fishes over a rather wide space around the spot, rise to

the surface floating on their sides, and with the gills wide

open. Evidently,the poison acts by suffocating the fishes--it

spreads slowly in the water, and a very slight mixture seems

sufficient to stupefy them. I was surprised, upon beating the

water in places where no fishes were visible in the clear depths

for many yards round, to find, sooner or later, sometimes twenty-

four hours afterwards, a considerable number floating dead on the

surface.

The people occupy themselves the greater part of the year with

their small plantations of mandioca. All the heavy work, such as

felling and burning the timber, planting and weeding, is done in

the plantation of each family by a congregation of neighbours,

which they call a "pucherum"--a similar custom to the "bee" in

the backwood settlements of North America. They make quite a

holiday of each pucherum. When the invitation is issued, the

family prepares a great quantity of fermented drink, called in

this part Taroba, made from soaked mandioca cakes, and porridge

of Manicueira. This latter is a kind of sweet mandioca, very

different from the Yuca of the Peruvians and Macasheira of the

Brazilians (Manihot Aypi), having oblong juicy roots, which

become very sweet a few days after they are gathered. With these

simple provisions they regale their helpers. The work is

certainly done, but after a very rude fashion; all become

soddened with Taroba, and the day finishes often in a drunken

brawl.

The climate is rather more humid than that of Santarem. I suppose

this is to be attributed to the neighbouring country being

densely wooded instead of an open campo. In no part of the

country did I enjoy more the moonlit nights than here, in the dry

season. After the day's work was done, I used to go down to the

shores of the bay, and lie at full length on the cool sand for

two or three hours before bedtime. The soft pale light, resting

on broad sandy beaches and palm-thatched huts, reproduced the

effect of a mid-winter scene in the cold north when a coating of

snow lies on the landscape. A heavy shower falls about once a

week, and the shrubby vegetation never becomes parched as at

Santarem. Between the rains, the heat and dryness increase from

day to day-- the weather on the first day after the rain is

gleamy, with intervals of melting sunshine and passing clouds;

the next day is rather drier, and the east wind begins to blow;

then follow days of cloudless sky, with gradually increasing

strength of breeze. When this has continued about a week, a light

mistiness begins to gather about the horizon; clouds are formed;

grumbling thunder is heard; and then, generally in the night-

time, down falls the refreshing rain. The sudden chill caused by

the rains produces colds, which are accompanied by the same

symptoms as in our own climate; with this exception, the place is

very healthy.

June 17th--The two young men returned without meeting with my

montaria, and I found it impossible here to buy a new one.

Captain Thomas could find me only one hand. This was a blunt-

spoken but willing young Indian, named Manoel. He came on board

this morning at eight o'clock, and we then got up our anchor and

resumed our voyage.

The wind was light and variable all day, and we made only about

fifteen miles by seven o'clock in the evening. The coast formed a

succession of long, shallow bays with sandy beaches, upon which

the waves broke in a long line of surf. Ten miles above Altar de

Chao is a conspicuous headland, called Point Cajetuba. During a

lull of the wind, towards midday, we ran the cuberta aground in

shallow water and waded ashore; but the woods were scarcely

penetrable, and not a bird was to be seen. The only thing

observed worthy of note was the quantity of drowned winged ants

along the beach; they were all of one species, the terrible

formiga de fogo (Myrmica saevis sima); the dead, or half-dead

bodies of which were heaped up in a line an inch or two in height

and breadth, the line continuing without interruption for miles

at the edge of the water. The countless thousands had been

doubtless cast into the river while flying during a sudden squall

the night before, and afterwards, cast ashore by the waves. We

found ourselves at seven o'clock near the mouth of a creek

leading to a small lake, called Aramana-i, and the wind having

died away, we anchored, guided by the lights ashore, near the

house of a settler named Jeronymo, whom I knew, and who, soon

after, showed us a snug little harbour where we could remain in

safety for the night. The river here cannot be less than ten

miles broad; it is quite clear of islands and free from shoals at

this season of the year. The opposite coast appeared in the

daytime as a long thin line of forest, with dim grey hills in the

background.

Today (19th) we had a good wind, which carried us to the mouth of

a creek, culled Paquiatuba, where the "inspector" of the district

lived, Senor Cypriano, for whom I had brought an order from

Captain Thomas to supply me with another hand. We had great

difficulty in finding a place to land. The coast in this part was

a tract of level, densely-wooded country, through which flowed

the winding rivulet, or creek, which gives its name to a small

scattered settlement hidden in the wilderness; the hills here

receding two or three miles towards the interior. A large portion

of the forest was flooded, the trunks of the very high trees near

the mouth of the creek standing eighteen feet deep in water. We

lost two hours working our way with poles through the inundated

woods in search of the port. Every inlet we tried ended in a

labyrinth choked up with bushes, but we were at length guided to

the right place by the crowing of cocks. On shouting for a

montaria, an Indian boy made his appearance, guiding one through

the gloomy thickets; but he was so alarmed, I suppose at the

apparition of a strange-looking white man in spectacles bawling

from the brow of the vessel, that he shot back quickly into the

bushes. He returned when Manoel spoke, and we went ashore, the

montaria winding along a gloomy overshadowed water-path made by

cutting away the lower branches and underwood. The foot-road to

the houses was a narrow, sandy alley, bordered by trees of

stupendous height, overrun with creepers, and having an unusual

number of long air-roots dangling from the epiphytes on their

branches.

After passing one low smoky little hut half-buried in foliage,

the path branched off in various directions, and the boy having

left us, we took the wrong turn. We were brought to a stand soon

after by the barking of dogs; and on shouting, as is customary on

approaching a dwelling, "O da casa!" (Oh of the house!) a dark-

skinned native, a Cafuzo, with a most unpleasant expression of

countenance, came forth through the tangled maze of bushes, armed

with a long knife, with which he pretended to be whittling a

stick. He directed us to the house of Cypriano, which was about a

mile distant along another forest road. The circumstance of the

Cafuzo coming out armed to receive visitors very much astonished

my companions, who talked it over at every place we visited for

several days afterwards, the freest and most unsuspecting welcome

in these retired places being always counted upon by strangers.

But, as Manoel remarked, the fellow may have been one of the

unpardoned rebel leaders who had settled here after the recapture

of Santarem in 1836, and lived in fear of being inquired for by

the authorities of Santarem. After all our troubles we found

Cypriano absent from home. His house was a large one, and full of

people, old and young, women and children, all of whom were

Indians or mamelucos. Several smaller huts surrounded the large

dwelling, besides extensive open sheds containing mandioca ovens

and rude wooden mills for grinding sugar-cane to make molasses.

All the buildings were embosomed in trees: it would be scarcely

possible to find a more retired nook, and an air of contentment

was spread over the whole establishment. Cypriano's wife, a good-

looking mameluco girl, was superintending the packing of farina.

Two or three old women, seated on mats, were making baskets with

narrow strips of bark from the leafstalks of palms, while others

were occupied lining them with the broad leaves of a species of

maranta, and filling them afterwards with farina, which was

previously measured in a rude square vessel. It appeared that

Senor Cypriano was a large producer of the article, selling 300

baskets (sixty pounds' weight each) annually to Santarem traders.

I was sorry we were unable to see him, but it was useless

waiting, as we were told all the men were at present occupied in

"pucherums," and he would be unable to give me the assistance I

required. We returned to the canoe in the evening, and, after

moving out into the river, anchored and slept.

June 20th.--We had a light, baffling wind off shore all day on

the 20th, and made but fourteen or fifteen miles by six p.m.

when, the wind failing us, we anchored at the mouth of a narrow

channel, called Tapaiuna, which runs between a large island and

the mainland. About three o'clock we passed in front of Boim, a

village on the opposite (western) coast. The breadth of the river

here is six or seven miles-- a confused patch of white on the

high land opposite was all we saw of the village, the separate

houses being undistinguishable on account of the distance. The

coast along which we sailed today is a continuation of the low

and flooded land of Paquiatuba.

June 21st-The next morning we sailed along the Tapaiuna channel,

which is from 400 to 600 yards in breadth. We advanced but

slowly, as the wind was generally dead against us, and stopped

frequently to ramble ashore. Wherever the landing-place was

sandy, it was impossible to walk about on account of the swarms

of the terrible fire-ant, whose sting is likened by the

Brazilians to the puncture of a red-hot needle. There was

scarcely a square inch of ground free from them. About three p.m.

we glided into a quiet, shady creek, on whose banks an

industrious white settler had located himself. I resolved to pass

the rest of the day and night here, and endeavour to obtain a

fresh supply of provisions, our stock of salt beef being now

nearly exhausted. The situation of the house was beautiful; the

little harbour being gay with water plants, Pontederiae, now full

of purple blossom, from which flocks of stilt-legged water-fowl

started up screaming as we entered. The owner sent a boy with my

men to show them the best place for fish up the creek, and in the

course of the evening sold me a number of fowls, besides baskets

of beans and farina. The result of the fishing was a good supply

of Jandia, a handsome spotted Siluride fish, and Piranha, a kind

of Salmon. Piranhas are of several kinds, many of which abound in

the waters of the Tapajos. They are caught with almost any kind

of bait, for their taste is indiscriminate and their appetite

most ravenous. They often attack the legs of bathers near the

shore, inflicting severe wounds with their strong triangular

teeth. At Paquiatuba and this place, I added about twenty species

of small fishes to my collection-- caught by hook and line, or

with the hand in shallow pools under the shade of the forest.

My men slept ashore, and upon the coming aboard in the morning,

Pinto was drunk and insolent. According to Jose, who had kept

himself sober, and was alarmed at the other's violent conduct,

the owner of the house and Pinto had spent the greater part of

the night together, drinking aguardente de beiju,--a spirit

distilled from the mandioca root. We knew nothing of the

antecedents of this man, who was a tall, strong, self-willed

fellow, and it began to dawn on us that this was not a very safe

travelling companion in a wild country like this. I thought it

better now to make the best of our way to the next settlement,

Aveyros, and get rid of him.

Our course today lay along a high rocky coast, which extended

without a break for about eight miles. The height of the

perpendicular rocks was from 100 to 150 feet; ferns and flowering

shrubs grew in the crevices, and the summit supported a luxuriant

growth of forest, like the rest of the river banks. The waves

beat with a loud roar at the foot of these inhospitable barriers.

At two p.m. we passed the mouth of a small picturesque harbour,

formed by a gap in the precipitous coast. Several families have

here settled; the place is called Ita-puama, or "standing rock,"

from a remarkable isolated cliff, which stands erect at the

entrance to the little haven. A short distance beyond Itapuama we

found ourselves opposite to the village of Pinhel, which is

perched, like Boim, on high ground, on the western side of the

river. The stream is here from six to seven miles wide. A line of

low islets extends in front of Pinhel, and a little further to

the south is a larger island, called Capitari, which lies nearly

in the middle of the river.

June 23rd.--The wind freshened at ten o'clock in the morning of

the 23rd. A thick black cloud then began to spread itself over

the sky a long way down the river; the storm which it portended,

however, did not reach us, as the dark threatening mass crossed

from east to west, and the only effect it had was to impel a

column of cold air up river, creating a breeze with which we

bounded rapidly forward. The wind in the afternoon strengthened

to a gale. We carried on with one foresail only, two of the men

holding on to the boom to prevent the whole thing from flying to

pieces. The rocky coast continued for about twelve miles above

Ita-puama, then succeeded a tract of low marshy land, which had

evidently been once an island whose channel of separation from

the mainland had become silted up. The island of Capitari and

another group of islets succeeding it, called Jacare, on the

opposite side, helped also to contract at this point the breadth

of the river, which was now not more than about three miles. The

little cuberta almost flew along this coast, there being no

perceptible current, past extensive swamps, margined with thick

floating grasses. At length, on rounding a low point, higher land

again appeared on the right bank of the river, and the village of

Aveyros hove in sight, in the port of which we cast anchor late

in the afternoon.

Aveyros is a small settlement, containing only fourteen or

fifteen houses besides the church; but it is the place of

residence of the authorities of a large district-- the priest,

Juiz de Paz, the subdelegado of police, and the Captain of the

Trabalhadores. The district includes Pinhel, which we passed

about twenty miles lower down on the left bank of the river. Five

miles beyond Aveyros, and also on the left bank, is the

missionary village of Santa Cruz, comprising thirty or forty

families of baptised Mundurucu Indians, who are at present under

the management of a Capuchin Friar, and are independent of the

Captain of Trabalhadores of Aveyros. The river view from this

point towards the south was very grand; the stream is from two to

three miles broad, with green islets resting on its surface, and

on each side a chain of hills stretches away in long perspective.

I resolved to stay here for a few weeks to make collections. On

landing, my first care was to obtain a house or room, that I

might live ashore. This was soon arranged; the head man of the

place, Captain Antonio, having received notice of my coming, so

that before night all the chests and apparatus I required were

housed and put in order for working.

I here dismissed Pinto, who again got drunk and quarrelsome a few

hours after he came ashore. He left the next day, to my great

relief, in a small trading canoe that touched at the place on its

way to Santarem. The Indian Manoel took his leave at the same

time, having engaged to accompany me only as far as Aveyros; I

was then dependent on Captain Antonio for fresh hands. The

captains of Trabalhadores are appointed by the Brazilian

Government to embody the scattered Indian labourers and canoe-men

of their respective districts, to the end that they may supply

passing travellers with men when required. A semi-military

organisation is given to the bodies--some of the steadiest

amongst the Indians themselves being nominated as sergeants, and

all the members mustered at the principal village of their

district twice each year. The captains, however, universally

abuse their authority, monopolising the service of the men for

their own purposes, so that it is only by favour that the loan of

a canoe-hand can be wrung from them. I was treated by Captain

Antonio with great consideration, and promised two good Indians

when I should be ready to continue my voyage.

Little happened worth narrating during my forty days' stay at

Aveyros. The time was spent in the quiet, regular pursuit of

Natural History: every morning I had my long ramble in the

forest, which extended to the back-doors of the houses, and the

afternoons were occupied in preserving and studying the objects

collected. The priest was a lively old man, but rather a bore

from being able to talk of scarcely anything except homoeopathy,

having been smitten with the mania during a recent visit to

Santarem. He had a Portuguese Homoeopathic Dictionary, and a

little leather case containing glass tubes filled with globules,

with which he was doctoring the whole village.

A bitter enmity seemed to exist between the female members of the

priest's family, and those of the captain's-- the only white

women in the settlement. It was amusing to notice how they

flaunted past each other, when going to church on Sundays, in

their starched muslin dresses. I found an intelligent young man

living here, a native of the province of Goyaz, who was exploring

the neighbourhood for gold and diamonds. He had made one journey

up a branch river, and declared to me that he had found one

diamond, but was unable to continue his researches, because the

Indians who accompanied him refused to remain any longer; he was

now waiting for Captain Antonio to assist him with fresh men,

having offered him in return a share in the results of the

enterprise. There appeared to be no doubt that gold is

occasionally found within two or three days' journey of Aveyros;

but all lengthened search is made impossible by the scarcity of

food and the impatience of the Indians, who see no value in the

precious metal, and abhor the tediousness of the gold-searcher's

occupation. It is impossible to do without them, as they are

required to paddle the canoes.

The weather, during the month of July, was uninterruptedly fine;

not a drop of rain fell, and the river sank rapidly. The

mornings, for two hours after sunrise, were very cold; we were

glad to wrap ourselves in blankets on turning out of our

hammocks, and walk about at a quick pace in the early sunshine.

But in the afternoons, the heat was sickening, for the glowing

sun then shone full on the front of the row of whitewashed

houses, and there was seldom any wind to moderate its effects. I

began now to understand why the branch rivers of the Amazons were

so unhealthy, while the main stream was pretty nearly free from

diseases arising from malaria. The cause lies, without doubt, in

the slack currents of the tributaries in the dry season, and the

absence of the cooling Amazonian trade wind, which purifies the

air along the banks of the main river. The trade wind does not

deviate from its nearly straight westerly course, so that the

branch streams, which run generally at right angles to the

Amazons, and, have a slack current for a long distance from their

mouths, are left to the horrors of nearly stagnant air and water.

Aveyros may be called the headquarters of the fire-ant, which

might be fittingly termed the scourge of this fine river. The

Tapajos is nearly free from the insect pests of other parts,

mosquitoes, sand-flies, Motucas and piums; but the formiga de

fogo is perhaps a greater plague than all the others put

together. It is found only on sandy soils in open places, and

seems to thrive most in the neighbourhood of houses and weedy

villages, such as Aveyros; it does not occur at all in the shades

of the forest. I noticed it in most places on the banks of the

Amazons but the species is not very common on the main river, and

its presence is there scarcely noticed, because it does not

attack man, and the sting is not so virulent as it is in the same

species on the banks of the Tapajos. Aveyros was deserted a few

years before my visit on account of this little tormentor, and

the inhabitants had only recently returned to their houses,

thinking its numbers had decreased. It is a small species, of a

shining reddish colour not greatly differing from the common red

stinging ant of our own country (Myrmica rubra), except that the

pain and irritation caused by its sting are much greater. The

soil of the whole village is undermined by it; the ground is

perforated with the entrances to their subterranean galleries,

and a little sandy dome occurs here and there, where the insects

bring their young to receive warmth near the surface. The houses

are overrun with them; they dispute every fragment of food with

the inhabitants, and destroy clothing for the sake of the starch.

All eatables are obliged to be suspended in baskets from the

rafters, and the cords well soaked with copauba balsam, which is

the only means known of preventing them from climbing. They seem

to attack persons out of sheer malice; if we stood for a few

moments in the street, even at a distance from their nests, we

were sure to be overrun and severely punished, for the moment an

ant touched the flesh, he secured himself with his jaws, doubled

in his tail, and stung with all his might. When we were seated on

chairs in the evenings in front of the house to enjoy a chat with

our neighbours, we had stools to support our feet, the legs of

which, as well as those of the chairs, were well anointed with

the balsam. The cords of hammocks are obliged to be smeared in

the same way to prevent the ants from paying sleepers a visit.

The inhabitants declare that the fire-ant was unknown on the

Tapajos before the disorders of 1835-6, and believe that the

hosts sprang up from the blood of the slaughtered Cabanas or

rebels. They have doubtless increased since that time, but the

cause lies in the depopulation of the villages and the rank

growth of weeds in the previously cleared, well-kept spaces. I

have already described the line of sediment formed on the sandy

shores lower down the river by the dead bodies of the winged

individuals of this species. The exodus from their nests of the

males and females takes place at the end of the rainy season

(June), when the swarms are blown into the river by squalls of

wind, and subsequently cast ashore by the waves; I was told that

this wholesale destruction of ant-life takes place annually, and

that the same compact heap of dead bodies which I saw only in

part, extends along the banks of the river for twelve or fifteen

miles.

The forest behind Aveyros yielded me little except insects, but

in these it was very rich. It is not too dense, and broad sunny

paths skirted by luxuriant beds of Lycopodiums, which form

attractive sporting places for insects, extend from the village

to a swampy hollow or ygapo, which lies about a mile inland. Of

butterflies alone I enumerated fully 300 species, captured or

seen in the course of forty days within a half-hour's walk of the

village. This is a greater number than is found in the whole of

Europe. The only monkey I observed was the Callithrix moloch--one

of the kinds called by the Indians "Whaiapu-sai". It is a

moderate-sized species, clothed with long brown hair, and having

hands of a whitish hue. Although nearly allied to the Cebi, it

has none of their restless vivacity, but is a dull listless

animal. It goes in small flocks of five or six individuals,

running along the main boughs of the trees. One of the specimens

which I obtained here was caught on a low fruit-tree at the back

of our house at sunrise one morning. This was the only instance

of a monkey being captured in such a position that I ever heard

of. As the tree was isolated, it must have descended to the

ground from the neighbouring forest and walked some distance to

get at it. The species is sometimes kept in a tame state by the

natives-- it does not make a very amusing pet, and survives

captivity only a short time.

I heard that the white Cebus, the Caiarara branca, a kind of

monkey I had not yet seen, and wished very much to obtain,

inhabited the forests on the opposite side of the river; so one

day, on an opportunity being afforded by our host going over in a

large boat, I crossed to go in search of it. We were about twenty

persons in all, and the boat was an old rickety affair with the

gaping seams rudely stuffed with tow and pitch. In addition to

the human freight we took three sheep with us, which Captain

Antonio had just received from Santarem and was going to add to

his new cattle farm on the other side. Ten Indian paddlers

carried us quickly across. The breadth of the river could not be

less than three miles, and the current was scarcely perceptible.

When a boat has to cross the main Amazons, it is obliged to

ascend along the banks for half a mile or more to allow for

drifting by the current; in this lower part of the Tapajos this

is not necessary. When about halfway, the sheep, in moving about,

kicked a hole in the bottom of the boat. The passengers took the

matter very coolly, although the water spouted up alarmingly, and

I thought we should inevitably be swamped. Captain Antonio took

off his socks to stop the leak, inviting me and the Juiz de Paz,

who was one of the party, to do the same, while two Indians baled

out the water with large cuyas. We thus managed to keep afloat

until we reached our destination, when the men patched up the

leak for our return journey.

The landing-place lay a short distance within the mouth of a

shady inlet,up on whose banks, hidden amongst the dense woods,

were the houses of a few Indian and mameluco settlers. The path

to the cattle farm led first through a tract of swampy forest; it

then ascended a slope and emerged on a fine sweep of prairie,

varied with patches of timber. The wooded portion occupied the

hollows where the soil was of a rich chocolate-brown colour, and

of a peaty nature. The higher grassy, undulating parts of the

campo had a lighter and more sandy soil. Leaving our friends,

Jose and I took our guns and dived into the woods in search of

the monkeys. As we walked rapidly along I was very near treading

on a rattlesnake, which lay stretched out nearly in a straight

line on the bare sandy pathway. It made no movement to get out of

the way, and I escaped the danger by a timely and sudden leap,

being unable to check my steps in the hurried walk. We tried to

excite the sluggish reptile by throwing handfulls of sand and

sticks at it, but the only notice it took was to raise its ugly

horny tail and shake its rattle. At length it began to move

rather nimbly,when we despatched it by a blow on the head with a

pole, not wishing to fire on account of alarming our game.

We saw nothing of the white Caiarara; we met, however, with a

flock of the common light-brown allied species (Cebus

albifrons?), and killed one as a specimen. A resident on this

side of the river told us that the white kind was found further

to the south, beyond Santa Cruz. The light-brown Caiarara is

pretty generally distributed over the forests of the level

country. I saw it very frequently on the banks of the Upper

Amazons, where it was always a treat to watch a flock leaping

amongst the trees, for it is the most wonderful performer in this

line of the whole tribe. The troops consist of thirty or more

individuals, which travel in single file. When the foremost of

the flock reaches the outermost branch of an unusually lofty

tree, he springs forth into the air without a moment's hesitation

and alights on the dome of yielding foliage belonging to the

neighbouring tree, maybe fifty feet beneath-- all the rest

following the example. They grasp, upon falling, with hands and

tail, right themselves in a moment, and then away they go along

branch and bough to the next tree.

The Caiarara owes its name in the Tupi language, macaw or large-

headed (Acain, head and Arara macaw), to the disproportionate

size of the head compared with the rest of the body. It is very

frequently kept as a pet in houses of natives. I kept one myself

for about a year, which accompanied me in my voyages and became

very familiar, coming to me always on wet nights to share my

blanket. It is a most restless creature, but is not playful like

most of the American monkeys; the restlessness of its disposition

seeming to arise from great nervous irritability and discontent.

The anxious, painful, and changeable expression of its

countenance, and the want of purpose in its movements, betray

this. Its actions are like those of a wayward child; it does not

seem happy even when it has plenty of its favourite food,

bananas; but will leave its own meal to snatch the morsels out of

the hands of its companions. It differs in these mental traits

from its nearest kindred, for another common Cebus, found in the

same parts of the forest, the Prego monkey (Cebus cirrhifer?), is

a much quieter and better-tempered animal; it is full of tricks,

but these are generally of a playful character.

The Caiarara keeps the house in a perpetual uproar where it is

kept-- when alarmed, or hungry, or excited by envy, it screams

piteously; it is always, however, making some noise or other,

often screwing up its mouth and uttering a succession of loud

notes resembling a whistle. My little pet, when loose, used to

run after me, supporting itself for some distance on its hind

legs, without, however, having been taught to do it. He offended

me greatly one day, by killing, in one of his jealous fits,

another and much choicer pet--the nocturnal owl-faced monkey

(Nyctipithecus trivirgatus). Someone had given this a fruit,

which the other coveted, so the two got to quarrelling. The

Nyctipithecus fought only with its paws, clawing out and hissing

like a cat; the other soon obtained the mastery, and before I

could interfere, finished his rival by cracking its skull with

his teeth. Upon this, I got rid of him.

On recrossing the river to Aveyros in the evening, a pretty

little parrot fell from a great height headlong into the water

near the boat, having dropped from a flock which seemed to be

fighting in the air. One of the Indians secured it for me, and I

was surprised to find the bird uninjured. There had probably been

a quarrel about mates, resulting in our little stranger being

temporarily stunned by a blow on the head from the beak of a

jealous comrade. The species was the Conurus guianensis, called

by the natives Maracana-- the plumage green, with a patch of

scarlet under the wings. I wished to keep the bird alive and tame

it, but all our efforts to reconcile it to captivity were vain;

it refused food, bit everyone who went near it, and damaged its

plumage in its exertions to free itself. My friends in Aveyros

said that this kind of parrot never became domesticated. After

trying nearly a week I was recommended to lend the intractable

creature to an old Indian woman, living in the village, who was

said to be a skillful bird-tamer. In two days she brought it back

almost as tame as the familiar love-birds of our aviaries. I kept

my little pet for upwards of two years; it learned to talk pretty

well, and was considered quite a wonder as being a bird usually

so difficult of domestication. I do not know what arts the old

woman used-- Captain Antonio said she fed it with her saliva. The

chief reason why almost all animals become so wonderfully tame in

the houses of the natives is, I believe, their being treated with

uniform gentleness, and allowed to run at large about the rooms.

Our Maracana used to accompany us sometimes in our rambles, one

of the lads carrying it on his head. One day, in the middle of a

long forest road, it was missed, having clung probably to an

overhanging bough and escaped into the thicket without the boy

perceiving it. Three hours afterwards, on our return by the same

path, a voice greeted using a colloquial tone as we passed--

"Maracana!" We looked about for some time, but could not see

anything, until the word was repeated with emphasis-- "Maracana-

a!" When we espied the little truant half concealed in the

foliage of a tree, he came down and delivered himself up,

evidently as much rejoiced at the meeting as we were.

After I had obtained the two men promised, stout young Indians,

seventeen or eighteen years of age, one named Ricardo and the

other Alberto, I paid a second visit to the western side of the

river in my own canoe; being determined, if possible, to obtain

specimens of the White Cebus. We crossed over first to the

mission village, Santa Cruz, which consists of thirty or forty

wretched-looking mud huts, closely built together in three

straight ugly rows on a high gravelly bank. The place was

deserted, with the exception of two or three old men and women

and a few children. A narrow belt of wood runs behind the

village; beyond this is an elevated, barren campo with a clayey

and gravelly soil. To the south, the coast country is of a

similar description; a succession of scantily-wooded hills, bare

grassy spaces, and richly-timbered hollows. We traversed forest

and campo in various directions during three days without meeting

with monkeys, or indeed with anything that repaid us the time and

trouble. The soil of the district appeared too dry; at this

season of the year I had noticed, in other parts of the country,

that mammals and birds resorted to the more humid areas of

forest; we therefore proceeded to explore carefully the low and

partly swampy tract along the coast to the north of Santa Cruz.

We spent two days in this way landing at many places, and

penetrating a good distance in the interior. Although

unsuccessful with regard to the White Cebus, the time was not

wholly lost, as I added several small birds of species new to my

collection. On the second evening we surprised a large flock,

composed of about fifty individuals, of a curious eagle with a

very long and slender hooked beak, the Rostrhamus hamatus. They

were perched on the bushes which surrounded a shallow lagoon,

separated from the river by a belt of floating grass; my men said

they fed on toads and lizards found at the margins of pools. They

formed a beautiful sight as they flew up and wheeled about at a

great height in the air. We obtained only one specimen.

Before returning to Aveyros, we paid another visit to the Jacare

inlet-- leading to Captain Antonio's cattle farm, for the sake of

securing further specimens of the many rare and handsome insects

found there-- landing at the port of one of the settlers. The

owner of the house was not at home, and the wife, a buxom young

woman, a dark mameluca, with clear though dark complexion and

fine rosy cheeks, was preparing, in company with another stout-

built Amazon, her rod and lines to go out fishing for the day's

dinner. It was now the season for Tucunares, and Senora Joaquina

showed us the fly baits used to take this kind of fish, which she

had made with her own hands of parrots' feathers. The rods used

are slender bamboos, and the lines made from the fibres of pine-

apple leaves. It is not very common for the Indian and half-caste

women to provide for themselves in the way these spirited dames

were doing, although they are all expert paddlers, and very

frequently cross wide rivers in their frail boats without the aid

of men. It is possible that parties of Indian women, seen

travelling alone in this manner, may have given rise to the fable

of a nation of Amazons, invented by the first Spanish explorers

of the country.

Senora Joaquina invited me and Jose to a Tucunare dinner for the

afternoon, and then shouldering their paddles and tucking up

their skirts, the two dusky fisherwomen marched down to their

canoe. We sent the two Indians into the woods to cut palm-leaves

to mend the thatch of our cuberta, while Jose and I rambled

through the woods which skirted the campo. On our return, we

found a most bountiful spread in the house of our hostess. A

spotless white cloth was laid on the mat, with a plate for each

guest and a pile of fragrant, newly-made farinha by the side of

it. The boiled Tucunares were soon taken from the kettles and set

before us. I thought the men must be happy husbands who owned

such wives as these. The Indian and mameluco women certainly do

make excellent managers; they are more industrious than the men,

and most of them manufacture farinha for sale on their own

account, their credit always standing higher with the traders on

the river than that of their male connections. I was quite

surprised at the quantity of fish they had taken there being

sufficient for the whole party-- which included several children,

two old men from a neighbouring hut, and my Indians. I made our

good-natured entertainers a small present of needles and sewing-

cotton, articles very much prized, and soon after we reembarked,

and again crossed the river to Aveyros.

August 2nd--Left Aveyros, having resolved to ascend a branch

river, the Cupari, which enters the Tapajos about eight miles

above this village, instead of going forward along the main

stream. I should have liked to visit the settlements of the

Mundurucu tribe which lie beyond the first cataract of the

Tapajos, if it had been compatible with the other objects I had

in view. But to perform this journey a lighter canoe than mine

would have been necessary, and six or eight Indian paddlers,

which in my case it was utterly impossible to obtain. There would

be, however, an opportunity of seeing this fine race of people on

the Cupari, as a horde was located towards the head waters of

this stream. The distance from Aveyros to the last civilised

settlement on the Tapajos, Itaituba, is about forty miles. The

falls commence a short distance beyond this place. Ten formidable

cataracts or rapids then succeed each other at intervals of a few

miles, the chief of which are the Coaita, the Bubure, the Salto

Grande (about thirty feet high), and the Montanha. The canoes of

Cuyaba tradesmen which descend annually to Santarem are obliged

to be unloaded at each of these, and the cargoes carried by land

on the backs of Indians, while the empty vessels are dragged by

ropes over the obstruction. The Cupari was described to me as

flowing through a rich, moist clayey valley covered with forests

and abounding in game; while the banks of the Tapajos beyond

Aveyros were barren sandy campos, with ranges of naked or

scantily-wooded hills, forming a kind of country which I had

always found very unproductive in Natural History objects in the

dry season, which had now set in.

We entered the mouth of the Cupari on the evening of the

following day (August 3rd). It was not more than a hundred yards

wide, but very deep: we found no bottom in the middle with a line

of eight fathoms. The banks were gloriously wooded, the familiar

foliage of the cacao growing abundantly amongst the mass of other

trees, reminding me of the forests of the main Amazons. We rowed

for five or six miles, generally in a south-easterly direction,

although the river had many abrupt bends, and stopped for the

night at a settler's house, situated on a high bank, accessible

only by a flight of rude wooden steps fixed in the clayey slope.

The owners were two brothers, half-breeds, who, with their

families, shared the large roomy dwelling; one of them was a

blacksmith, and we found him working with two Indian lads at his

forge in an open shed under the shade of mango trees. They were

the sons of a Portuguese immigrant who had settled here forty

years previously, and married a Mundurucu woman. He must have

been a far more industrious man than the majority of his

countrymen who emigrate to Brazil nowadays, for there were signs

of former extensive cultivation at the back of the house in

groves of orange, lemon, and coffee trees, and a large plantation

of cacao occupied the lower grounds.

The next morning one of the brothers brought me a beautiful

opossum, which had been caught in the fowl-house a little before

sunrise. It was not so large as a rat, and had soft brown fur,

paler beneath and on the face, with a black stripe on each cheek.

This made the third species of marsupial rat I had so far

obtained-- but the number of these animals is very considerable

in Brazil, where they take the place of the shrews of Europe;

shrew mice and, indeed, the whole of the insectivorous order of

mammals, being entirely absent from Tropical America. One kind of

these rat-like opossums is aquatic, and has webbed feet. The

terrestrial species are nocturnal in their habits, sleeping

during the day in hollow trees, and coming forth at night to prey

on birds in their roosting places. It is very difficult to rear

poultry in this country on account of these small opossums,

scarcely a night passing, in some parts, in which the fowls are

not attacked by them.

August 5th.--The river reminds me of some parts of the Jaburu

channel, being hemmed in by two walls of forest rising to the

height of at least a hundred feet, and the outlines of the trees

being concealed throughout by a dense curtain of leafy creepers.

The impression of vegetable profusion and overwhelming luxuriance

increases at every step. The deep and narrow valley of the Cupari

has a moister climate than the banks of the Tapajos. We have now

frequent showers, whereas we left everything parched up by the

sun at Aveyros.

After leaving the last sitio we advanced about eight miles, and

then stopped at the house of Senor Antonio Malagueita, a mameluco

settler, whom we had been recommended to visit. His house and

outbuildings were extensive, the grounds well weeded, and the

whole wore an air of comfort and well-being which is very

uncommon in this country. A bank of indurated white clay sloped

gently up from the tree-shaded port to the house, and beds of

kitchen herbs extended on each side, with (rare sight!) rose and

jasmine trees in full bloom. Senor Antonio, a rather tall middle-

aged man, with a countenance beaming with good nature, came down

to the port as soon as we anchored. I was quite a stranger to

him, but he had heard of my coming, and seemed to have made

preparations. I never met with a heartier welcome. On entering

the house, the wife, who had more of the Indian tint and features

than her husband, was equally warm and frank in her greeting.

Senor Antonio had spent his younger days at Para, and had

acquired a profound respect for Englishmen. I stayed here two

days. My host accompanied me in my excursions; in fact, his

attentions, with those of his wife, and the host of relatives of

all degrees who constituted his household, were quite

troublesome, as they left me not a moment's privacy from morning

till night.

We had, together, several long and successful rambles along a

narrow pathway which extended several miles into the forest. I

here met with a new insect pest, one which the natives may be

thankful is not spread more widely over the country: it was a

large brown fly of the Tabanidae family (genus Pangonia), with a

proboscis half an inch long and sharper than the finest needle.

It settled on our backs by twos and threes at a time, and pricked

us through our thick cotton shirts, making us start and cry out

with the sudden pain. I secured a dozen or two as specimens. As

an instance of the extremely confined ranges of certain species,

it may be mentioned that I did not find this insect in any other

part of the country except along half a mile or so of this gloomy

forest road.

We were amused at the excessive and almost absurd tameness of a

fine Mutum or Curassow turkey, that ran about the house. It was a

large glossy-black species (the Mitu tuberosa), having an orange-

coloured beak, surmounted by a bean-shaped excrescence of the

same hue. It seemed to consider itself as one of the family:

attending all the meals, passing from one person to another round

the mat to be fed, and rubbing the sides of its head in a coaxing

way against their cheeks or shoulders. At night it went to roost

on a chest in a sleeping-room beside the hammock of one of the

little girls to whom it seemed particularly attached

(regularlyfollowing her wherever she went about the grounds). I

found this kind of Curassow bird was very common in the forest of

the Cupari; but it is rare on the Upper Amazons, where an allied

species, which has a round instead of a bean-shaped waxen

excrescence on the beak (Crax globicera), is the prevailing kind.

These birds in their natural state never descend from the tops of

the loftiest trees, where they live in small flocks and build

their nests. The Mitu tuberosa lays two rough-shelled, white

eggs; it is fully as large a bird as the common turkey, but the

flesh when cooked is drier and not so well flavoured. It is

difficult to find the reason why these superb birds have not been

reduced to domestication by the Indians, seeing that they so

readily become tame. The obstacle offered by their not breeding

in confinement, which is probably owing to their arboreal habits,

might perhaps be overcome by repeated experiment; but for this

the Indians probably had not sufficient patience or intelligence.

The reason cannot lie in their insensibility to the value of such

birds, for the common turkey, which has been introduced into the

country, is much prized by them.

We had an unwelcome visitor while at anchor in the port of

Antonio Malagueita. I was awakened a little after midnight, as I

lay in my little cabin, by a heavy blow struck at the sides of

the canoe close to my head, which was succeeded by the sound of a

weighty body plunging into the water. I got up; but all was again

quiet, except the cackle of fowls in our hen-coop, which hung

over the side of the vessel about three feet from the cabin door.

I could find no explanation of the circumstance, and, my men

being all ashore, I turned in again and slept until morning. I

then found my poultry loose about the canoe, and a large rent in

the bottom of the hen-coop, which was about two feet from the

surface of the water-- a couple of fowls were missing. Senor

Antonio said the depredator was a Sucuruju (the Indian name for

the Anaconda, or great water serpent--Eunectes murinus), which

had for months past been haunting this part of the river, and had

carried off many ducks and fowls from the ports of various

houses. I was inclined to doubt the fact of a serpent striking at

its prey from the water, and thought an alligator more likely to

be the culprit, although we had not yet met with alligators in

the river.

Some days afterwards, the young men belonging to the different

sitios agreed together to go in search of the serpent. They began

in a systematicmanner, forming two parties, each embarked in

three or four canoes, and starting from points several miles

apart, whence they gradually approximated, searching all the

little inlets on both sides the river. The reptile was found at

last, sunning itself on a log at the mouth of a muddy rivulet,

and despatched with harpoons. I saw it the day after it was

killed; it was not a very large specimen, measuring only eighteen

feet nine inches in length, and sixteen inches in circumference

at the widest part of the body. I measured skins of the Anaconda

afterwards, twenty-one feet in length and two feet in girth. The

reptile has a most hideous appearance, owing to its being very

broad in the middle and tapering abruptly at both ends. It is

very abundant in some parts of the country; nowhere more so than

in the Lago Grande, near Santarem, where it is often seen coiled

up in the corners of farmyards, and is detested for its habit of

carrying off poultry, young calves, or whatever animal it can get

within reach of.

At Ega, a large Anaconda was once near making a meal of a young

lad about ten years of age, belonging to one of my neighbours.

The father and his son went, as was their custom, a few miles up

the Teffe to gather wild fruit, landing on a sloping sandy shore,

where the boy was left to mind the canoe while the man entered

the forest. The beaches of the Teffe form groves of wild guava

and myrtle trees, and during most months of the year are partly

overflown by the river. While the boy was playing in the water

under the shade of these trees, a huge reptile of this species

stealthily wound its coils around him, unperceived until it was

too late to escape. His cries brought the father quickly to the

rescue, who rushed forward, and seizing the Anaconda boldly by

the head, tore his jaws asunder. There appears to be no doubt

that this formidable serpent grows to an enormous bulk, and lives

to a great age, for I heard of specimens having been killed which

measured forty-two feet in length, or double the size of the

largest I had an opportunity to examine. The natives of the

Amazons country universally believe in the existence of a monster

water-serpent, said to be many score fathoms in length and which

appears successively in different parts of the river. They call

it the Mai d'agoa--the mother, or spirit, of the water. This

fable, which was doubtless suggested by the occasional appearance

of Sucurujus of unusually large size, takes a great variety of

forms, and the wild legends form the subject of conversation

amongst old and young, over the wood fires in lonely settlements.

August 6th and 7th--On leaving the sitio of Antonio Malagueita we

continued our way along the windings of the river, generally in a

southeast and south-southeast direction, but sometimes due north,

for about fifteen miles, when we stopped at the house of one

Paulo Christo, a mameluco whose acquaintance I had made at

Aveyros. Here we spent the night and part of the next day, doing

in the morning a good five hours' work in the forest, accompanied

by the owner of the place. In the afternoon of the 7th, we were

again under way; the river makes a bend to the east-northeast for

a short distance above Paulo Christo's establishment, and then

turns abruptly to the southwest, running from that direction

about four miles. The hilly country of the interior then

commences, the first token of it being a magnificently-wooded

bluff, rising nearly straight from the water to a height of about

250 feet. The breadth of the stream hereabout was not more than

sixty yards, and the forest assumed a new appearance from the

abundance of the Urucuri palm, a species which has a noble crown

of broad fronds with symmetrical rigid leaflets.

We reached, in the evening, the house of the last civilised

settler on the river, Senor Joao (John) Aracu, a wiry, active

fellow and capital hunter, whom I wished to make a friend of and

persuade to accompany me to the Mundurucu village and the falls

of the Cupari, some forty miles further up the river.I stayed at

the sitio of John Aracu until the 19th, and again, in descending,

spent fourteen days at the same place. The situation was most

favourable for collecting the natural products of the district.

The forest was not crowded with underwood, and pathways led

through it for many miles and in various directions. I could make

no use here of our two men as hunters, so, to keep them employed

while Jose and I worked daily in the woods, I set them to make a

montaria under John Aracu's directions. The first day a suitable

tree was found for the shell of the boat, of the kind called

Itauba amarello, the yellow variety of the stonewood. They felled

it, and shaped out of the trunk a log nineteen feet in length;

this they dragged from the forest, with the help of my host's

men, over a road they had previously made with cylindrical pieces

of wood acting as rollers. The distance was about half a mile,

and the ropes used for drawing the heavy load were tough lianas

cut from the surrounding trees. This part of the work occupied

about a week: the log had then to be hollowed out, which was done

with strong chisels through a slit made down the whole length.

The heavy portion of the task being then completed, nothing

remained but to widen the opening, fit two planks for the sides

and the same number of semicircular boards for the ends, make the

benches, and caulk the seams.

The expanding of the log thus hollowed out is a critical

operation, and not always successful, many a good shell being

spoiled from splitting or expanding irregularly. It is first

reared on tressels, with the slit downwards, over a large fire,

which is kept up for seven or eight hours, the process

requiringunremitting attention to avoid cracks and make the plank

bend with the proper dip at the two ends. Wooden straddlers, made

by cleaving pieces of tough elastic wood and fixing them with

wedges, are inserted into the opening, their compass being

altered gradually as the work goes on, but in different degrees

according to the part of the boat operated upon. Our casca turned

out a good one-- it took a long time to cool, and was kept in

shape whilst it did so by means of wooden cross-pieces. When the

boat was finished, it was launched with great merriment by the

men, who hoisted coloured handkerchiefs for flags, and paddled it

up and down the stream to try its capabilities. My people had

suffered as much inconvenience from the want of a montaria as

myself, so this was a day of rejoicing to all of us.

I was very successful at this place with regard to the objects of

my journey. About twenty new species of fishes and a considerable

number of small reptiles were added to my collection; but very

few birds were met with worth preserving. A great number of the

most conspicuous insects of the locality were new to me, and

turned out to be species peculiar to this part of the Amazons

valley. The most interesting acquisition was a large and handsome

monkey, of a species I had not before met with--the, white-

whiskered Coaita, or spider-monkey (Ateles marginatus). I saw a

pair one day in the forest moving slowly along the branches of a

lofty tree, and shot one of them; the next day John Aracu brought

down another, possibly the companion. The species is of about the

same size as the common black kind, of which I have given an

account in a former chapter, and has a similar lean body, with

limbs clothed with coarse black hair; but it differs in having

the whiskers and a triangular patch on the crown of the head of a

white colour. I thought the meat the best flavoured I had ever

tasted. It resembled beef, but had a richer and sweeter taste.

During the time of our stay in this part of the Cupari, we could

get scarcely anything but fish to eat, and as this diet disagreed

with me, three successive days of it reducing me to a state of

great weakness. I was obliged to make the most of our Coaita

meat. We smoke-dried the joints instead of salting them, placing

them for several hours upon a framework of sticks arranged over a

fire, a plan adopted by the natives to preserve fish when they

have no salt, and which they call "muquiar." Meat putrefies in

this climate in less than twenty-four hours, and salting is of no

use, unless the pieces are cut in thin slices anddried

immediately in the sun.

My monkeys lasted me about: a fortnight, the last joint being an

arm with the clenched fist, which I used with great economy,

hanging it in the intervals, between my frugal meals, on a nail

in the cabin. Nothing but the hardest necessity could have driven

me so near to cannibalism as this, but we had the greatest

difficulty in obtaining here a sufficient supply of animal food.

About every three days the work on the montaria had to be

suspended, and all hands turned out for the day to hunt and fish,

in which they were often unsuccessful, for although there was

plenty of game in the forest, it was too widely scattered to be

available. Ricardo, and Alberto occasionally brought in a

tortoise or anteater, which served us for one day's consumption.

We made acquaintance here with many strange dishes, amongst them

Iguana eggs; these are of oblong form, about an inch in length,

and covered with a flexible shell. The lizard lays about two

score of them in the hollows of trees. They have an oily taste;

the men ate them raw, beaten up with farinha, mixing a pinch of

salt in the mess; I could only do with them when mixed with

Tucupi sauce, of which we had a large jar full always ready to

temper unsavoury morsels.

One day as I was entomologising alone and unarmed, in a dry

Ygapo, where the trees were rather wide apart and the ground

coated to the depth of eight or ten inches with dead leaves, I

was near coming into collision with a boa constrictor. I had just

entered a little thicket to capture an insect, and while pinning

it was rather startled by a rushing noise in the vicinity. I

looked up to the sky, thinking a squall was coming on, but not a

breath of wind stirred in the tree-tops. On stepping out of the

bushes I met face to face a huge serpent coming down a slope,

making the dry twigs crack and fly with his weight as he moved

over them. I had very frequently met with a smaller boa, the

Cutim-boia, in a similar way, and knew from the habits of the

family that there was no danger, so I stood my ground. On seeing

me the reptile suddenly turned and glided at an accelerated pace

down the path. Wishing to take a note of his probable size and

the colours and markings of his skin, I set off after him; but he

increased his speed, and I was unable to get near enough for the

purpose. There was very little of the serpentine movement in his

course. The rapidly moving and shining body looked like a stream

of brown liquid flowing over the thick bed of fallen leaves,

rather than a serpent with skin of varied colours. He descended

towards the lower and moister parts of the Ygapo. The huge trunk

of an uprooted tree here lay across the road; this he glided over

in his undeviating course and soon after penetrated a dense

swampy thicket, where of course I did not choose to follow him.

I suffered terribly from heat and mosquitoes as the river sank

with the increasing dryness of the season, although I made an

awning of the sails to work under, and slept at night in the open

air with my hammock slung between the masts. But there was no

rest in any part; the canoe descended deeper and deeper into the

gulley through which the river flows between high clayey banks;

as the water subsided, and with the glowing sun overhead we felt

at midday as if in a furnace. I could bear scarcely any clothes

in the daytime between eleven in the morning and five in the

afternoon, wearing nothing but loose and thin cotton trousers and

a light straw hat, and could not be accommodated in John Aracu's

house, as it was a small one and full of noisy children. One

night we had a terrific storm. The heat in the afternoon had been

greater than ever, and at sunset the sky had a brassy glare, the

black patches of cloud which floated in it being lighted up now

and then by flashes of sheet lightning. The mosquitoes at night

were more than usually troublesome, and I had just sunk exhausted

into a doze towards the early hours of morning when the storm

began-- a complete deluge of rain, with incessant lightning and

rattling explosions of thunder. It lasted for eight hours, the

grey dawn opening amidst the crash of the tempest. The rain

trickled through the seams of the cabin roof on to my

collections, the late hot weather having warped the boards, and

it gave me immense trouble to secure them in the midst of the

confusion. Altogether I had a bad night of it; but what with

storms, heat, mosquitoes, hunger, and, towards the last, ill

health, I seldom had a good night's rest on the Cupari.

A small creek traversed the forest behind John Aracu's house, and

entered the river a few yards from our anchoring place; I used to

cross it twice a day, on going and returning from my hunting

ground. One day early in September, I noticed that the water was

two or three inches higher in the afternoon than it had been in

the morning. This phenomenon was repeated the next day, and in

fact daily, until the creek became dry with the continued

subsidence of the Cupari, the time of rising shifting a little

from day to day. I pointed out the circumstance to John Aracu,

who had not noticed it before (it was only his second year of

residence in the locality), but agreed with me that it must be

the "mare"; yes, the tide!-- the throb of the great oceanic pulse

felt in this remote corner, 530 miles distant from the place

where it first strikes the body of fresh water at the mouth of

the Amazons. I hesitated at first at this conclusion, but in

reflecting that the tide was known to be perceptible at Obydos,

more than 400 miles from the sea, that at high water in the dry

season a large flood from the Amazons enters the mouth of the

Tapajos, and that there is but a very small difference of level

between that point and the Cupari, a fact shown by the absence of

current in the dry season. I could have no doubt that this

conclusion was a correct one.

The fact of the tide being felt 530 miles up the Amazons, passing

from the main stream to one of its affluents 380 miles from its

mouth, and thence to a branch in the third degree, is a proof of

the extreme flatness of the land which forms the lower part of

the Amazonian valley. This uniformity of level is shown also in

the broad lake-like expanses of water formed near their mouths by

the principal affluents which cross the valley to join the main

river.

August 21st.--John Aracu consented to accompany me to the falls

with one of his men to hunt and fish for me. One of my objects

was to obtain specimens of the hyacinthine macaw, whose range

commences on all the branch rivers of the Amazons which flow from

the south through the interior of Brazil, with the first

cataracts. We started on the 19th; our direction on that day

being generally southwest. On the 20th, our course was southerly

and southeasterly. This morning (August 21st) we arrived at the

Indian settlement, the first house of which lies about thirty-one

miles above the sitio of John Aracu. The river at this place is

from sixty to seventy yards wide, and runs in a zigzag course

between steep clayey banks, twenty to fifty feet in height. The

houses of the Mundurucus, to the number of about thirty, are

scattered along the banks for a distance of six or seven miles.

The owners appear to have chosen all the most picturesque sites--

tracts of level ground at the foot of wooded heights, or little

havens with bits of white sandy beach--as if they had an

appreciation of natural beauty. Most of the dwellings are conical

huts, with walls of framework filled in with mud and thatched

with palm leaves, the broad eaves reaching halfway to the ground.

Some are quadrangular, and do not differ in structure from those

of the semi-civilised settlers in other parts; others are open

sheds or ranchos. They seem generally to contain not more than

one or two families each.

At the first house, we learned that all the fighting men had this

morning returned from a two days' pursuit of a wandering horde of

savages of the Pararauate tribe, who had strayed this way from

the interior lands and robbed the plantations. A little further

on we came to the house of the Tushaua, or chief, situated on the

top of a high bank, which we had to ascend by wooden steps. There

were four other houses in the neighbourhood, all filled with

people. A fine old fellow, with face, shoulders, and breast

tattooed all over in a cross-bar pattern, was the first strange

object that caught my eye. Most of the men lay lounging or

sleeping in their hammocks. The women were employed in an

adjoining shed making farinha, many of them being quite naked,

and rushing off to the huts to slip on their petticoats when they

caught sight of us. Our entrance aroused the Tushaua from a nap;

after rubbing his eyes he came forward and bade us welcome with

the most formal politeness, and in very good Portuguese. He was a

tall, broad-shouldered, well-made man, apparently about thirty

years of age, with handsome regular features, not tattooed, and a

quiet good-humoured expression of countenance. He had been

several times to Santarem and once to Para, learning the

Portuguese language during these journeys. He was dressed in

shirt and trousers made of blue-checked cotton cloth, and there

was not the slightest trace of the savage in his appearance or

demeanour. I was told that he had come into the chieftainship by

inheritance, and that the Cupari horde of Mundurucus, over which

his fathers had ruled before him, was formerly much more

numerous, furnishing 300 bows in time of war. They could now

scarcely muster forty; but the horde has no longer a close

political connection with the main body of the tribe, which

inhabits the banks of the Tapajos, six days' journey from the

Cupari settlement.

I spent the remainder of the day here, sending Aracu and the men

to fish, while I amused myself with the Tushaua and his people. A

few words served to explain my errand on the river; he

comprehended at once why white men should admire and travel to

collect the beautiful birds and animals of his country, and

neither he nor his people spoke a single word about trading, or

gave us any trouble by coveting the things we had brought. He

related to me the events of the preceding three days. The

Pararauates were a tribe of intractable savages, with whom the

Mundurucus have been always at war. They had no fixed abode, and

of course made no plantations, but passed their lives like the

wild beasts, roaming through the forest, guided by the sun;

wherever they found themselves at night-time there they slept,

slinging their bast hammocks, which are carried by the women, to

the trees. They cross the streams which lie in their course in

bark canoes, which they make on reaching the water, and cast away

after landing on the opposite side. The tribe is very numerous,

but the different hordes obey only their own chieftains. The

Mundurucus of the upper Tapajos have an expedition on foot

against them at the present time, and the Tushaua supposed that

the horde which had just been chased from his maloca were

fugitives from that direction. There were about a hundred of

them--including men, women, and children. Before they were

discovered, the hungry savages had uprooted all the macasheira,

sweet potatoes, and sugarcane, which the industrious Mundurucus

had planted for the season, on the east side of the river. As

soon as they were seen they made off, but the Tushaua quickly got

together all the young men of the settlement, about thirty in

number, who armed themselves with guns, bows and arrows, and

javelins, and started in pursuit. They tracked them, as before

related, for two days through the forest, but lost their traces

on the further bank of the Cuparitinga, a branch stream flowing

from the northeast. The pursuers thought, at one time, they were

close upon them, having found the inextinguished fire of their

last encampment. The footmarks of the chief could be

distinguished from the rest by their great size and the length of

the stride. A small necklace made of scarlet beans was the only

trophy of the expedition, and this the Tushaua gave to me.

I saw very little of the other male Indians, as they were asleep

in their huts all the afternoon. There were two other tattooed

men lying under an open shed, besides the old man already

mentioned. One of them presented a strange appearance, having a

semicircular black patch in the middle of his face, covering the

bottom of the nose and mouth, crossed lines on his back and

breast, and stripes down his arms and legs. It is singular that

the graceful curved patterns used by the South Sea Islanders are

quite unknown among the Brazilian red men; they being all

tattooed either in simple lines or patches. The nearest approach

to elegance of design which I saw was amongst the Tucunas of the

Upper Amazons, some of whom have a scroll-like mark on each

cheek, proceeding from the corner of the mouth. The taste, as far

as form is concerned, of the American Indian, would seem to be

far less refined than that of the Tahitian and New Zealander.

To amuse the Tushaua, I fetched from the canoe the two volumes of

Knight's Pictorial Museum of Animated Nature. The engravings

quite took his fancy, and he called his wives, of whom, as I

afterwards learned from Aracu, he had three or four, to look at

them; one of them was a handsome girl, decorated with necklace

and bracelets of blue beads. In a short time, others left their

work, and I then had a crowd of women and children around me, who

all displayed unusual curiosity for Indians. It was no light task

to go through the whole of the illustrations, but they would not

allow me to miss a page, making me turn back when I tried to

skip. The pictures of the elephant, camels, orangutangs, and

tigers, seemed most to astonish them; but they were interested in

almost everything, down even to the shells and insects. They

recognised the portraits of the most striking birds and mammals

which are found in their own country-- the jaguar, howling

monkeys, parrots, trogons, and toucans. The elephant was settled

to be a large kind of Tapir; but they made but few remarks, and

those in the Mundurucu language, of which I understood only two

or three words. Their way of expressing surprise was a clicking

sound made with the teeth, similar to the one we ourselves use,

or a subdued exclamation, Hm! hm! Before I finished, from fifty

to sixty had assembled; there was no pushing or rudeness, the

grown-up women letting the young girls and children stand before

them, and all behaved in the most quiet and orderly manner

possible.

The Mundurucus are perhaps the most numerous and formidable tribe

of Indians now surviving in the Amazons region. They inhabit the

shores of the Tapajos (chiefly the right bank), from 3 to 7 south

latitude, and the interior of the country between that part of

the river and the Madeira. On the Tapajos alone they can muster,

I was told, 2000 fighting men; the total population of the tribe

may be about 20,000. They were not heard of until about ninety

years ago, when they made war on the Portuguese settlements,

their hosts crossing the interior of the country eastward of the

Tapajos, and attacking the establishments of the whites in the

province of Maranham. The Portuguese made peace with them in the

beginning of the present century, the event being brought about

by the common cause of quarrel entertained by the two peoples

against the hated Muras. They have ever since been firm friends

of the whites. It is remarkable how faithfully this friendly

feeling has been handed down amongst the Mundurucus, and spread

to the remotest of the scattered hordes. Wherever a white man

meets a family, or even an individual of the tribe, he is almost

sure to be reminded of this alliance. They are the most warlike

of the Brazilian tribes, and are considered also the most settled

and industrious; they are not, however, superior in this latter

respect to the Juris and Passes on the Upper Amazons, or the

Uapes Indians near the headwaters of the Rio Negro. They make

very large plantations of mandioca, and sell the surplus produce,

which amounts to, on the Tapajos, from 3000 to 5000 baskets (60

lbs. each) annually, to traders who ascend the river from

Santarem between the months of August and January. They also

gather large quantities of sarsaparilla, India-rubber, and Tonka

beans, in the forests. The traders, on their arrival at the

Campinas (the scantily wooded region inhabited by the main body

of Mundurucus beyond the cataracts) have first to distribute

their wares--cheap cotton cloths, iron hatchets, cutlery, small

wares, and cashaca--amongst the minor chiefs, and then wait three

or four months for repayment in produce.

A rapid change is taking place in the habits of these Indians

through frequent intercourse with the whites, and those who dwell

on the banks of the Tapajos now seldom tattoo their children. The

principal Tushaua of the whole tribe or nation, named Joaquim,

was rewarded with a commission in the Brazilian army, in

acknowledgment of the assistance he gave to the legal authorities

during the rebellion of 1835-6. It would be a misnomer to call

the Mundurucus of the Cupari and many parts of the Tapajos

savages; their regular mode of life, agricultural habits, loyalty

to their chiefs, fidelity to treaties, and gentleness of

demeanour, give them a right to a better title. Yet they show no

aptitude for the civilised life of towns, and, like the rest of

the Brazilian tribes, seem incapable of any further advance in

culture.

In their former wars they exterminated two of the neighbouring

peoples, the Jumas and the Jacares, and make now an annual

expedition against the Pararauates, and one or two other similar

wild tribes who inhabit the interior of the land. Additionally

they are sometimes driven by hunger towards the banks of the

great rivers to rob the plantations of the agricultural Indians.

These campaigns begin in July, and last throughout the dry

months; the women generally accompanying the warriors to carry

their arrows and javelins. They had the diabolical custom, in

former days, of cutting off the heads of their slain enemies, and

preserving them as trophies around their houses. I believe this,

together with other savage practices, has been relinquished in

those parts where they have had long intercourse with the

Brazilians, for I could neither see nor hear anything of these

preserved heads. They used to sever the head with knives made of

broad bamboo, and then, after taking out the brain and fleshy

parts, soak it in bitter vegetable oil (andiroba), and expose it

for several days over the smoke of a fire or in the sun. In the

tract of country between the Tapajos and the Madeira, a deadly

war has been for many years carried on between the Mundurucus and

the Araras. I was told by a Frenchman at Santarem, who had

visited that part, that all the settlements there have a military

organisation. A separate shed is built outside each village,

where the fighting men sleep at night, sentinels being stationed

to give the alarm with blasts of the Ture on the approach of the

Araras, who choose the night for their onslaughts.

Each horde of Mundurucus has its paje or medicine man, who is the

priest and doctor; he fixes upon the time most propitious for

attacking the enemy; exorcises evil spirits, and professes to

cure the sick. All illness whose origin is not very apparent is

supposed to be caused by a worm in the part affected. This the

paje pretends to extract; he blows on the seat of pain the smoke

from a large cigar, made with an air of great mystery by rolling

tobacco in folds of Tauari, and then sucks the place, drawing

from his mouth, when he has finished, what he pretends to be the

worm. It is a piece of very clumsy conjuring. One of these pajes

was sent for by a woman in John Aracu's family, to operate on a

child who suffered much from pains in the head. Senor John

contrived to get possession of the supposed worm after the trick

was performed in our presence, and it turned out to be a long

white airroot of some plant. The paje was with difficulty

persuaded to operate while Senor John and I were present. I

cannot help thinking that he, as well as all others of the same

profession, are conscious impostors, handing down the shallow

secret of their divinations and tricks from generation to

generation. The institution seems to be common to all tribes of

Indians, and to be held to more tenaciously than any other.

I bought of the Tushaua two beautiful feather sceptres, with

their bamboo cases. These are of cylindrical shape, about three

feet in length and three inches in diameter, and are made by

gluing with wax the fine white and yellow feathers from the

breast of the toucan on stout rods, the tops being ornamented

with long plumes from the tails of parrots, trogons, and other

birds. The Mundurucus are considered to be the most expert

workers in feathers of all the South American tribes. It is very

difficult, however, to get them to part with the articles, as

they seem to have a sort of superstitious regard for them. They

manufacture headdresses, sashes, and tunics, besides sceptres;

the feathers being assorted with a good eye to the proper

contrast of colours, and the quills worked into strong cotton

webs, woven with knitting sticks in the required shape. The

dresses are worn only during their festivals, which are

celebrated, not at stated times, but whenever the Tushaua thinks

fit. Dancing, singing, sports, and drinking, appear to be the

sole objects of these occasional holidays. When a day is fixed

upon, the women prepare a great quantity of taroba, and the

monotonous jingle is kept up, with little intermission, night and

day, until the stimulating beverage is finished.

We left the Tushaua's house early the next morning. The

impression made upon me by the glimpse of Indian life in its

natural state obtained here, and at another cluster of houses

visited higher up, was a pleasant one, notwithstanding the

disagreeable incident of the Pararauate visit. The Indians are

here seen to the best advantage; having relinquished many of

their most barbarous practices, without being corrupted by too

close contact with the inferior whites and half-breeds of the

civilised settlements. The manners are simpler, the demeanour

more gentle, cheerful, and frank, than amongst the Indians who

live near the towns. I could not help contrasting their well-fed

condition, and the signs of orderly, industrious habits, with the

poverty and laziness of the semi-civilised people of Altar do

Chao. I do not think that the introduction of liquors has been

the cause of much harm to the Brazilian Indian. He has his

drinking bout now and then, like the common working people of

other countries. It was his habit in his original state, before

Europeans visited his country, but he is always ashamed of it

afterwards, and remains sober during the pretty long intervals.

The harsh, slave-driving practices of the Portuguese and their

descendants have been the greatest curses to the Indians; the

Mundurucus of the Cupari, however, have been now for many years

protected against ill-treatment. This is one of the good services

rendered by the missionaries, who take care that the Brazilian

laws in favour of the aborigines shall be respected by the brutal

and unprincipled traders who go amongst them. I think no Indians

could be in a happier position than these simple, peaceful, and

friendly people on the banks of the Cupari. The members of each

family live together, and seem to be much attached to each other;

and the authority of the chief is exercised in the mildest

manner. Perpetual summer reigns around them; the land is of the

highest fertility, and a moderate amount of light work produces

them all the necessessities of their simple life.

It is difficult to get at their notions on subjects that require

a little abstract thought; but, the mind of the Indian is in a

very primitive condition. I believe he thinks of nothing except

the matters that immediately concern his daily material wants.

There is an almost total absence of curiosity in his mental

disposition, consequently, he troubles himself very little

concerning the causes of the natural phenomena around him. He has

no idea of a Supreme Being; but, at the same time, he is free

from revolting superstitions--his religious notions going no

farther than the belief in an evil spirit, regarded merely as a

kind of hobgoblin, who is at the bottom of all his little

failures, troubles in fishing, hunting, and so forth. With so

little mental activity, and with feelings and passions slow of

excitement, the life of these people is naturally monotonous and

dull, and their virtues are, properly speaking, only negative;

but the picture of harmless, homely contentment they exhibit is

very pleasing, compared with the state of savage races in many

other parts of the world.

The men awoke me at four o'clock with the sound of their oars on

leaving the port of the Tushaua. I was surprised to find a dense

fog veiling all surrounding objects, and the air quite cold. The

lofty wall of forest, with the beautiful crowns of Assai palms

standing out from it on their slender, arching stems, looked dim

and strange through the misty curtain. The sudden change a little

after sunrise had quite a magical effect, for the mist rose up

like the gauze veil before the transformation scene at a

pantomime, and showed the glorious foliage in the bright glow of

morning, glittering with dew drops. We arrived at the falls about

ten o'clock. The river here is not more than forty yards broad,

and falls over a low ledge of rock stretching in a nearly

straight line across.

We had now arrived at the end of the navigation for large

vessels--a distance from the mouth of the river, according to our

rough calculation, of a little over seventy miles. I found it the

better course now to send Jose and one of the men forward in the

montaria with John Aracu, and remain myself with the cuberta and

our other man to collect in the neighbouring forest. We stayed

here four days, one of the boats returning each evening from the

upper river with the produce of the day's chase of my huntsmen. I

obtained six good specimens of the hyacinthine macaw, besides a

number of smaller birds, a species new to me of Guariba, or

howling monkey, and two large lizards. The Guariba was an old

male, with the hair much worn from his rump and breast, and his

body disfigured with large tumours made by the grubs of a gad-fly

(Oestrus). The back and tail were of a ruddy-brown colour, the

limbs, and underside of the body, black. The men ascended to the

second falls, which form a cataract several feet in height, about

fifteen miles beyond our anchorage. The macaws were found feeding

in small flocks on the fruit of the Tucuma palm (Astryocaryum

Tucuma), the excessively hard nut of which is crushed into pulp

by the powerful beak of the bird. I found the craws of all the

specimens filled with the sour paste to which the stone-like

fruit had been reduced. Each bird took me three hours to skin,

and I was occupied with these and my other specimens every

evening until midnight, after my own laborious day's hunt--

working on the roof of my cabin by the light of a lamp.

The place where the cuberta was anchored formed a little rocky

haven, with a sandy beach sloping to the forest, within which

were the ruins of an Indian Maloca, and a large weed-grown

plantation. The port swarmed with fishes, whose movements it was

amusing to watch in the deep, clear water. The most abundant were

the Piranhas. One species, which varied in length, according to

age, from two to six inches, but was recognisable by a black spot

at the root of the tail, was always the quickest to seize any

fragment of meat thrown into the water. When nothing was being

given to them, a few only were seen scattered about, their heads

all turned one way in an attitude of expectation; but as soon as

any offal fell from the canoe, the water was blackened with the

shoals that rushed instantaneously to the spot. Those who did not

succeed in securing a fragment, fought with those who had been

more successful, and many contrived to steal the coveted morsels

from their mouths. When a bee or fly passed through the air near

the water, they all simultaneously darted towards it as if roused

by an electric shock. Sometimes a larger fish approached, and

then the host of Piranhas took the alarm and flashed out of

sight.

The population of the water varied from day to day. Once a small

shoal of a handsome black-banded fish, called by the natives

Acara bandeira (Mesonauta insignis, of Gunther), came gliding

through at a slow pace, forming a very pretty sight. At another

time, little troops of needle-fish, eel-like animals with

excessively long and slender toothed jaws, sailed through the

field, scattering before them the hosts of smaller fry; and at

the rear of the needle-fishes, a strangely-shaped kind called

Sarapo came wriggling along, one by one, with a slow movement. We

caught with hook and line, baited with pieces of banana, several

Curimata (Anodus Amazonum), a most delicious fish, which, next to

the Tucunare and the Pescada, is most esteemed by the natives.

The Curimata seemed to prefer the middle of the stream, where the

waters were agitated beneath the little cascade.

The weather was now settled and dry, and the river sank rapidly--

six inches in twenty-four hours. In this remote and solitary spot

I can say that I heard for the first and almost the only time the

uproar of life at sunset, which Humboldt describes as having

witnessed towards the sources of the Orinoco, but which is

unknown on the banks of the larger rivers. The noises of animals

began just as the sun sank behind the trees after a sweltering

afternoon, leaving the sky above of the intensest shade of blue.

Two flocks of howling monkeys, one close to our canoe, the other

about a furlong distant, filled the echoing forests with their

dismal roaring. Troops of parrots, including the hyacinthine

macaw we were in search of, began then to pass over; the

different styles of cawing and screaming of the various species

making a terrible discord. Added to these noises were the songs

of strange Cicadas, one large kind perched high on the trees

around our little haven setting up a most piercing chirp. it

began with the usual harsh jarring tone of its tribe, but this

gradually and rapidly became shriller, until it ended in a long

and loud note resembling the steam-whistle of a locomotive

engine. Half-a-dozen of these wonderful performers made a

considerable item in the evening concert. I had heard the same

species before at Para, but it was there very uncommon; we

obtained one of them here for my collection by a lucky blow with

a stone. The uproar of beasts, birds, and insects lasted but a

short time: the sky quickly lost its intense hue, and the night

set in. Then began the tree-frogs--quack-quack, drum-drum, hoo-

hoo; these, accompanied by a melancholy night-jar, kept up their

monotonous cries until very late.

My men encountered on the banks of the stream a Jaguar and a

black Tiger, and were very much afraid of falling in with the

Pararauates, so that I could not, after their return on the

fourth day, induce them to undertake another journey. We began

our descent of the river in the evening of the 26th of August. At

night forest and river were again enveloped in mist, and the air

before sunrise was quite cold. There is a considerable current

from the falls to the house of John Aracu, and we accomplished

the distance, with its aid and by rowing, in seventeen hours.

September 21st.-At five o'clock in the afternoon we emerged from

the confined and stifling gully through which the Cupari flows,

into the broad Tapajos, and breathed freely again. How I enjoyed

the extensive view after being so long pent up: the mountainous

coasts, the grey distance, the dark waters tossed by a refreshing

breeze! Heat, mosquitoes, insufficient and bad food, hard work

and anxiety, had brought me to a very low state of health; and I

was now anxious to make all speed back to Santarem.

We touched at Aveyros, to embark some chests I had left there and

to settle accounts with Captain Antonio, and found nearly all the

people sick with fever and vomit, against which the Padre's

homoeopathic globules were of no avail. The Tapajos had been

pretty free from epidemics for some years past, although it was

formerly a very unhealthy river. A sickly time appeared to be now

returning; in fact, the year following my visit (1853) was the

most fatal one ever experienced in this part of the country. A

kind of putrid fever broke out, which attacked people of all

races alike. The accounts we received at Santarem were most

distressing-- my Cupari friends especially suffered very

severely. John Aracu and his family all fell victims, with the

exception of his wife; my kind friend Antonio Malagueita also

died, and a great number of people in the Mundurucu village.

The descent of the Tapajos in the height of the dry season, which

was now close at hand, is very hazardous on account of the strong

winds, absence of current, and shoaly water far away from the

coasts. The river towards the end of September is about thirty

feet shallower than in June; and in many places, ledges of rock

are laid bare, or covered with only a small depth of water. I had

been warned of these circumstances by my Cupari friends, but did

not form an adequate idea of what we should have to undergo.

Canoes, in descending, only travel at night, when the terral, or

light land-breeze, blows off the eastern shore. In the daytime a

strong wind rages from down river, against which it is impossible

to contend as there is no current, and the swell raised by its

sweeping over scores of miles of shallow water is dangerous to

small vessels. The coast for the greater part of the distance

affords no shelter; there are, however, a number of little

harbours, called esperas, which the canoemen calculate upon,

carefully arranging each night-voyage so as to reach one of them

before the wind begins the next morning.

We left Aveyros in the evening of the 21st, and sailed gently

down with the soft land-breeze, keeping about a mile from the

eastern shore. It was a brilliant moonlit night, and the men

worked cheerfully at the oars when the wind was slack, the terral

wafting from the forest a pleasant perfume like that of

mignonette. At midnight we made a fire and got a cup of coffee,

and at three o'clock in the morning reached the sitio of

Ricardo's father, an Indian named Andre, where we anchored and

slept.

September 22nd--Old Andre with his squaw came aboard this

morning. They brought three Tracajas, a turtle, and a basketful

of Tracaja eggs, to exchange with me for cotton cloth and

cashaca. Ricardo, who had been for some time very discontented,

having now satisfied his longing to see his parents, cheerfully

agreed to accompany me to Santarem. The loss of a man at this

juncture would have been very annoying, with Captain Antonio ill

at Aveyros, and not a hand to be had anywhere in the

neighbourhood; but, if we had not called at Andre's sitio, we

should not have been able to have kept Ricardo from running away

at the first landing-place. He was a lively, restless lad, and

although impudent and troublesome at first, had made a very good

servant. His companion, Alberto, was of quite a different

disposition, being extremely taciturn, and going through all his

duties with the quietest regularity.

We left at 11 a.m., and progressed a little before the wind began

to blow from down river, when we were obliged again to cast

anchor. The terral began at six o'clock in the evening, and we

sailed with it past the long line of rock-bound coast near

Itapuama. At ten o'clock a furious blast of wind came from a

cleft between the hills, catching us with the sails close-hauled,

and throwing the canoe nearly on its beam-ends, when we were

about a mile from the shore. Jose had the presence of mind to

slacken the sheet of the mainsail, while I leapt forward and

lowered the sprit of the foresail, the two Indians standing

stupefied in the prow. It was what the canoe-men call a trovoada

secca or white squall. The river in a few minutes became a sheet

of foam; the wind ceased in about half an hour, but the terral

was over for the night, so we pulled towards the shore to find an

anchoring place.

We reached Tapaiuna by midnight on the 23rd, and on the morning

of the 24th arrived at the Retiro, where we met a shrewd Santarem

trader, whom I knew, Senor Chico Honorio, who had a larger and

much better provided canoe than our own. The wind was strong from

below all day, so we remained at this place in his company. He

had his wife with him, and a number of Indians, male and female.

We slung our hammocks under the trees, and breakfasted and dined

together, our cloth being spread on the sandy beach in the shade

after killing a large quantity of fish with timbo, of which we

had obtained a supply at Itapuama. At night we were again under

way with the land breeze. The water was shoaly to a great

distance off the coast, and our canoe having the lighter draught

went ahead, our leadsman crying out the soundings to our

companion-- the depth was only one fathom, half a mile from the

coast. We spent the next day (25th) at the mouth of a creek

called Pini, which is exactly opposite the village of Boim, and

on the following night advanced about twelve miles. Every point

of land had a long spit of sand stretching one or two miles

towards the middle of the river, which it was necessary to double

by a wide circuit. The terral failed us at midnight when we were

near an espera, called Marai, the mouth of a shallow creek.

September 26th.--I did not like the prospect of spending the

whole dreary day at Marai, where it was impossible to ramble

ashore, the forest being utterly impervious, and the land still

partly under water. Besides, we had used up our last stick of

firewood to boil our coffee at sunrise, and could not get a fresh

supply at this place. So there being a dead calm on the river in

the morning, I gave orders at ten o'clock to move out of the

harbour, and try with the oars to reach Paquiatuba, which was

only five miles distant. We had doubled the shoaly point which

stretches from the mouth of the creek, and were making way

merrily across the bay, at the head of which was the port of the

little settlement, when we beheld to our dismay, a few miles down

the river, the signs of the violent day breeze coming down upon

us--a long, rapidly advancing line of foam with the darkened

water behind it. Our men strove in vain to gain the harbour; the

wind overtook us, and we cast anchor in three fathoms, with two

miles of shoaly water between us and the land on our lee. It came

with the force of a squall: the heavy billows washing over the

vessel and drenching us with the spray. I did not expect that our

anchor would hold; I gave out, however, plenty of cable and

watched the result at the prow, Jose placing himself at the helm,

and the men standing by the jib and foresail, so as to be ready

if we dragged to attempt the passage of the Marai spit, which was

now almost dead to leeward. Our little bit of iron, however, held

its place; the bottom being fortunately not so sandy as in most

other parts of the coast; but our weak cable then began to cause

us anxiety.

We remained in this position all day without food, for everything

was tossing about in the hold; provision-chests, baskets,

kettles, and crockery. The breeze increased in strength towards

the evening, when the sun set fiery red behind the misty hills on

the western shore, and the gloom of the scene was heightened by

the strange contrasts of colour; the inky water and the lurid

gleam of the sky. Heavy seas beat now and then against the prow

of our vessel with a force that made her shiver. If we had gone

ashore in this place, all my precious collections would have been

inevitably lost; but we ourselves could have scrambled easily to

land, and re-embarked with Senor Honorio, who had remained behind

in the Pini, and would pass in the course of two or three days.

When night came I lay down exhausted with watching and fatigue,

and fell asleep, as my men had done sometime before. About nine

o'clock, I was awakened by the montaria bumping against the sides

of the vessel, which had veered suddenly round, and the full

moon, previously astern, then shone full in the cabin. The wind

had abruptly ceased, giving place to light puffs from the eastern

shore, and leaving a long swell rolling into the shoaly bay.

After this, I resolved not to move a step beyond Paquiatuba

without an additional man, and one who understood the navigation

of the river at this season. We reached the landing-place at ten

o'clock, and anchored within the mouth of the creek. In the

morning I walked through the beautiful shady alleys of the

forest, which were waterpaths in June when we touched here in

ascending the river to the house of Inspector Cypriano. After an

infinite deal of trouble, I succeeded in persuading him to

furnish me with another Indian. There are about thirty families

established in this place, but the able-bodied men had been

nearly all drafted off within the last few weeks by the

Government, to accompany a military expedition against runaway

negroes, settled in villages in the interior. Senor Cypriano was

a pleasant-looking and extremely civil young Mameluco. He

accompanied us, on the night of the 28th, five miles down the

river to Point Jaguarari, where the man lived whom he intended to

send with me. I was glad to find my new hand a steady, middle-

aged and married Indian; his name was of very good promise,

Angelo Custodio (Guardian Angel).

Point Jaguarari forms at this season of the year a high sandbank,

which is prolonged as a narrow spit, stretching about three miles

towards the middle of the river. We rounded this with great

difficulty on the night of the 29th, reaching before daylight a

good shelter behind a similar sandbank at Point Acaratingari, a

headland situated not more than five miles in a straight line

from our last anchoring place. We remained here all day; the men

beating timbo in a quiet pool between the sandbank and the

mainland, and obtaining a great quantity of fish, from which I

selected six species new to my collection. We made rather better

progress the two following nights, but the terral now always blew

strongly from the north-northeast after midnight, and thus

limited the hours during which we could navigate, forcing us to

seek the nearest shelter to avoid being driven back faster than

we came.

On the 2nd of October, we reached Point Cajetuba and had a

pleasant day ashore. The river scenery in this neighbourhood is

of the greatest beauty. A few houses of settlers are seen at the

bottom of the broad bay of Aramhna-i at the foot of a range of

richly-timbered hills, the high beach of snow-white sand

stretching in a bold curve from point to point. The opposite

shores of the river are ten or eleven miles distant, but towards

the north is a clear horizon of water and sky. The country near

Point Cajetuba is similar to the neighbourhood of Santarem--

namely, campos with scattered trees. We gathered a large quantity

of wild fruit: Caju, Umiri, and Aapiranga. The Umiri berry

(Humirium floribundum) is a black drupe similar in appearance to

the Damascene plum, and not greatly unlike it in taste. The

Aapiranga is a bright vermilion-coloured berry, with a hard skin

and a sweet viscid pulp enclosing the seeds.

Between the point and Altar do Chao was a long stretch of sandy

beach with moderately deep water; our men, therefore, took a rope

ashore and towed the cuberta at merry speed until we reached the

village. A long, deeply laden canoe with miners from the interior

provinces passed us here. It was manned by ten Indians, who

propelled the boat by poles; the men, five on each side, trotting

one after the other along a plank arranged for the purpose from

stem to stern. It took us two nights to double Point Cururu,

where, as already mentioned, the river bends from its northerly

course beyond Altar do Chao. A confused pile of rocks, on which

many a vessel heavily laden with farinha has been wrecked,

extends at the season of low water from the foot of a high bluff

far into the stream. We were driven back on the first night

(October 3rd) by a squall. The light terral was carrying us

pleasantly round the spit, when a small black cloud which lay

near the rising moon suddenly spread over the sky to the

northward; the land breeze then ceased, and furious blasts began

to blow across the river. We regained, with great difficulty, the

shelter of the point. It blew almost a hurricane for two hours,

during the whole of which time the sky over our heads was

beautifully clear and starlit. Our shelter at first was not very

secure, for the wind blew away the lashings of our sails, and

caused our anchor to drag. Angelo Custodio, however, seized a

rope which was attached to the foremast, and leapt ashore; had he

not done so, we should probably have been driven many miles

backwards up the storm-tossed river. After the cloud had passed,

the regular east wind began to blow, and our further progress was

effectually stopped for the night. The next day we all went

ashore, after securing well the canoe, and slept from eleven

o'clock till five under the shade of trees.

The distance between Point Cururu and Santarem was accomplished

in three days, against the same difficulties of contrary and

furious winds, shoaly water, and rocky coasts. I was thankful at

length to be safely housed, with the whole of my collections,

made under so many privations and perils, landed without the loss

or damage of a specimen. The men, after unloading the canoe and

delivering it to its owner, came to receive their payment. They

took part in goods and part in money, and after a good supper, on

the night of the 7th October, shouldered their bundles and set

off to walk by land some eighty miles to their homes. I was

rather surprised at the good feeling exhibited by these poor

Indians at parting. Angelo Custodio said that whenever I should

wish to make another voyage up the Tapajos, he would be always

ready to serve me as pilot. Alberto was undemonstrative as usual;

but Ricardo, with whom I had had many sharp quarrels, actually

shed tears when he shook hands and bid me the final "adios."

CHAPTER X

THE UPPER AMAZONS--VOYAGE TO EGA

Departure from Barra--First Day and Night on the Upper Amazons--

Desolate Appearance of River in the Flood Season--Cucama Indians-

-Mental Condition of Indians--Squalls--Manatee--Forest--Floating

Pumice Stones from the Andes--Falling Banks--Ega and its

Inhabitants--Daily Life of a Naturalist at Ega--The Four Seasons

of the Upper Amazons

I must now take the reader from the picturesque, hilly country of

the Tapajos, and its dark, streamless waters, to the boundless

wooded plains, and yellow turbid current of the Upper Amazons or

Solimoens. I will resume the narrative of my first voyage up the

river, which was interrupted at the Barra of the Rio Negro in the

seventh chapter, to make way for the description of Santarem and

its neighbourhood.

I embarked at Barra on the 26th of March, 1850, three years

before steamers were introduced on the upper river, in a cuberta

which was returning to Ega, the first and only town of any

importance in the vast solitudes of the Solimoens, from Santarem,

whither it had been sent, with a cargo of turtle oil in

earthenware jars. The owner, an old white-haired Portuguese

trader of Ega named Daniel Cardozo, was then at Barra attending

the assizes as juryman, a public duty performed without

remuneration, which took him six weeks away from his business. He

was about to leave Barra himself, in a small boat, and

recommended me to send forward my heavy baggage in the cuberta

and make the journey with him. He would reach Ega, 370 miles

distant from Barra, in twelve or fourteen days; while the large

vessel would be thirty or forty days on the road. I preferred,

however, to go in company with my luggage, looking forward to the

many opportunities I should have of landing and making

collections on the banks of the river.

I shipped the collections made between Para and the Rio Negro in

a large cutter which was about descending to the capital, and

after a heavy day's work got all my chests aboard the Ega canoe

by eight o'clock at night. The Indians were then all embarked,

one of them being brought dead drunk by his companions, and laid

to sober himself all night on the wet boards of the tombadilha.

The cabo, a spirited young white, named Estulano Alves Carneiro,

who has since risen to be a distinguished citizen of the new

province of the Upper Amazons, soon after gave orders to get up

the anchor. The men took to the oars, and in a few hours we

crossed the broad mouth of the Rio Negro; the night being clear,

calm, and starlit, and the surface of the inky waters smooth as a

lake.

When I awoke the next morning, we were progressing by espia along

the left bank of the Solimoens. The rainy season had now set in

over the region through which the great river flows; the sand-

banks and all the lower lands were already under water, and the

tearing current, two or three miles in breadth, bore along a

continuous line of uprooted trees and islets of floating plants.

The prospect was most melancholy; no sound was heard but the dull

murmur of the waters -- the coast along which we travelled all

day was encumbered every step of the way with fallen trees, some

of which quivered in the currents which set around projecting

points of land. Our old pest, the Motuca, began to torment us as

soon as the sun gained power in the morning. White egrets were

plentiful at the edge of the water, and hummingbirds, in some

places, were whirring about the flowers overhead. The desolate

appearance of the landscape increased after sunset, when the moon

rose in mist.

This upper river, the Alto-Amazonas, or Solimoens, is always

spoken of by the Brazilians as a distinct stream. This is partly

owing, as before remarked, to the direction it seems to take at

the fork of the Rio Negro; the inhabitants of the country, from

their partial knowledge, not being able to comprehend the whole

river system in one view. It has, however, many peculiarities to

distinguish it from the lower course of the river. The trade-

wind, or sea-breeze, which reaches, in the height of the dry

season, as far as the mouth of the Rio Negro, 900 or 1000 miles

from the Atlantic, never blows on the upper river. The atmosphere

is therefore more stagnant and sultry, and the winds that do

prevail are of irregular direction and short duration. A great

part of the land on the borders of the Lower Amazons is hilly;

there are extensive campos, or open plains, and long stretches of

sandy soil clothed with thinner forests. The climate, in

consequence, is comparatively dry many months in succession

during the fine season passing without rain. All this is changed

on the Solimoens. A fortnight of clear sunny weather is a rarity:

the whole region through which the river and its affluents flow,

after leaving the easternmost ridges of the Andes, which Poppig

describes as rising like a wall from the level country, 240 miles

from the Pacific, is a vast plain, about 1000 miles in length,

and 500 or 600 in breadth, covered with one uniform, lofty,

impervious, and humid forest. The soil is nowhere sandy, but

always either a stiff clay, alluvium, or vegetable mold, which

thelatter, in many places, is seen in water-worn sections of the

river banks to be twenty or thirty feet in depth. With such a

soil and climate, the luxuriance of vegetation, and the abundance

and beauty of animal forms which are already so great in the

region nearer the Atlantic, increase on the upper river. The

fruits, both wild and cultivated, common to the two sections of

the country, reach a progressively larger size in advancing

westward, and some trees, which blossom only once a year at Para

and Santarem, yield flower and fruit all the year round at Ega.

The climate is healthy, although one lives here as in a permanent

vapour bath. I must not, however, give here a lengthy description

of the region while we are yet on its threshold. I resided and

travelled on the Solimoens altogether for four years and a half.

The country on its borders is a magnificent wilderness where

civilised man, as yet, has scarcely obtained a footing; the

cultivated ground from the Rio Negro to the Andes amounting only

to a few score acres. Man, indeed, in any condition, from his

small numbers, makes but an insignificant figure in these vast

solitudes. It may be mentioned that the Solimoens is 2130 miles

in length, if we reckon from the source of what is usually

considered the main stream (Lake Lauricocha, near Lima); but 2500

miles by the route of the Ucayali, the most considerable and

practicable fork of the upper part of the river. It is navigable

at all seasons by large steamers for upwards of 1400 miles from

the mouth of the Rio Negro.

On the 28th we passed the mouth of Arlauu, a narrow inlet which

communicates with the Rio Negro, emerging in front of Barra. Our

vessel was nearly drawn into this by the violent current which

set from the Solimoens. The towing-cable was lashed to a strong

tree about thirty yards ahead, and it took the whole strength of

crew and passengers to pull across. We passed the Guariba, a

second channel connecting the two rivers, on the 30th, and on the

31st sailed past a straggling settlement called Manacapuru,

situated on a high, rocky bank. Many citizens of Barra have

sitios, or country-houses, in this place, although it is eighty

miles distant from the town by the nearest road. Beyond

Manacapuru all traces of high land cease; both shores of the

river, henceforward for many hundred miles, are flat, except in

places where the Tabatinga formation appears in clayey elevations

of from twenty to forty feet above the line of highest water. The

country is so completely destitute of rocky or gravelly beds that

not a pebble is seen during many weeks' journey. Our voyage was

now very monotonous. After leaving the last house at Manacapuru,

we travelled nineteen days without seeing a human habitation, the

few settlers being located on the banks of inlets or lakes some

distance from the shores of the main river. We met only one

vessel during the whole of the time, and this did not come within

hail, as it was drifting down in the middle of the current in a

broad part of the river, two miles from the bank along which we

were laboriously warping our course upwards.

After the first two or three days we fell into a regular way of

life on board. Our crew was composed of ten Indians of the Cucama

nation, whose native country is a portion of the borders of the

upper river in the neighbourhood of Nauta, in Peru. The Cucamas

speak the Tupi language, using, however, a harsher accent than is

common amongst the semi-civilised Indians from Ega downwards.

They are a shrewd, hard-working people, and are the only Indians

who willingly, and in a body, engage themselves to navigate the

canoes of traders. The pilot, a steady and faithful fellow named

Vicente, told me that he and his companions had now been fifteen

months absent from their wives and families, and that on arriving

at Ega they intended to take the first chance of a passage to

Nauta. There was nothing in the appearance of these men to

distinguish them from canoemen in general. Some were tall and

well built, others had squat figures with broad shoulders and

excessively thick arms and legs. No two of them were at all

similar in the shape of the head: Vicente had an oval visage,

with fine regular features, while a little dumpy fellow, the wag

of the party, was quite a Mongolian in breadth and prominence of

cheek, spread of nostrils, and obliquity of eyes; but these two

formed the extremes as to face and figure. None of them were

tattooed or disfigured in any way and they were all quite

destitute of beard.

The Cucamas are notorious on the river for their provident

habits. The desire of acquiring property is so rare a trait in

Indians, that the habits of these people are remarked on with

surprise by the Brazilians. The first possession which they

strive to acquire on descending the river into Brazil, which all

the Peruvian Indians look upon as a richer country than their

own, is a wooden trunk with lock and key; in this they stow away

carefully all their earnings converted into clothing, hatchets,

knives, harpoon heads, needles and thread, and so forth. Their

wages are only fourpence or sixpence a day, which is often paid

in goods charged one hundred per cent above Para prices, so that

it takes them a long time to fill their chest.

It would be difficult to find a better-behaved set of men in a

voyage than these poor Indians. During our thirty-five days'

journey they lived and worked together in the most perfect good

fellowship. I never heard an angry word pass amongst them. Senor

Estulano let them navigate the vessel in their own way, exerting

his authority only now and then when they were inclined to be

lazy. Vicente regulated the working hours. These depended on the

darkness of the nights. In the first and second quarters of the

moon they kept it up with espia, or oars, until almost midnight;

in the third and fourth quarters they were allowed to go to sleep

soon after sunset, and were aroused at three or four o'clock in

the morning to resume their work. On cool, rainy days we all bore

a hand at the espia, trotting with bare feet on the sloppy deck

in Indian file to the tune of some wild boatman's chorus. We had

a favorable wind for only two days out of the thirty-five, by

which we made about forty miles, the rest of our long journey was

accomplished literally by pulling our way from tree to tree. When

we encountered a remanso near the shore, we got along very

pleasantly for a few miles by rowing-- but this was a rare

occurrence. During leisure hours the Indians employed themselves

in sewing. Vicente was a good hand at cutting out shirts and

trousers, and acted as master tailor to the whole party, each of

whom had a thick steel thimble and a stock of needles and thread

of his own. Vicente made for me a set of blue-check cotton shirts

during the passage.

The goodness of these Indians, like that of most others amongst

whom I lived, consisted perhaps more in the absence of active bad

qualities, than in the possession of good ones; in other words,

it was negative rather than positive. Their phlegmatic, apathetic

temperament, coldness of desire and deadness of feeling, want of

curiosity and slowness of intellect, make the Amazonian Indians

very uninteresting companions anywhere. Their imagination is of a

dull, gloomy, quality and they seemed never to be stirred by the

emotions--love, pity, admiration, fear, wonder, joy,

orenthusiasm. These are characteristics of the whole race. The

good fellowship of our Cucamas seemed to arise not from warm

sympathy, but simply from the absence of eager selfishness in

small matters. On the morning when the favourable wind sprung up,

one of the crew, a lad of about seventeen years of age, was

absent ashore at the time of starting, having gone alone in one

of the montarias to gather wild fruit. The sails were spread and

we travelled for several hours at great speed, leaving the poor

fellow to paddle after us against the strong current. Vicente,

who might have waited a few minutes at starting, and the others,

only laughed when the hardship of their companion was alluded to.

He overtook us at night, having worked his way with frightful

labor the whole day without a morsel of food. He grinned when he

came on board, and not a dozen words were said on either side.

Their want of curiosity is extreme. One day we had an unusually

sharp thunder shower. The crew were lying about the deck, and

after each explosion all set up a loud laugh; the wag of the

party exclaiming: "There's my old uncle hunting again!"-- an

expression showing the utter emptiness of mind of the spokesman.

I asked Vicente what he thought was the cause of lightning and

thunder... He said, "Timaa ichoqua,"--I don't know. He had never

given the subject a moment's thought! It was the same with other

things. I asked him who made the sun, the stars, the trees... He

didn't know, and had never heard the subject mentioned amongst

his tribe. The Tupi language, at least as taught by the old

Jesuits, has a word--Tupana--signifying God. Vicente sometimes

used this word, but he showed by his expressions that he did not

attach the idea of a Creator to it. He seemed to think it meant

some deity or visible image which the whites worshipped in the

churches he had seen in the villages. None of the Indian tribes

on the Upper Amazons have an idea of a Supreme Being, and

consequently have no word to express it in their own language.

Vicente thought the river on which we were travelling encircled

the whole earth, and that the land was an island like those seen

in the stream, but larger. Here a gleam of curiosity and

imagination in the Indian mind is revealed: the necessity of a

theory of the earth and water has been felt, and a theory has

been suggested. In all other matters not concerning the common

wants of life, the mind of Vicente was a blank and such I always

found to be the case with the Indian in his natural state. Would

a community of any race of men be otherwise, were they isolated

for centuries in a wilderness like the Amazonian Indians,

associated in small numbers wholly occupied in procuring a mere

subsistence, and without a written language, or a leisured class

to hand down acquired knowledge from generation to generation?One

day a smart squall gave us a good lift onward; it came with a

cold, fine, driving rain, which enveloped the desolate landscape

as with a mist; the forest swayed and roared with the force of

the gale, and flocks of birds were driven about in alarm over the

tree tops. On another occasion a similar squall came from an

unfavourable quarter; it fell upon us quite unawares, when we had

all our sails out to dry, and blew us broadside foremost on the

shore. The vessel was fairly lifted on to the tall bushes which

lined the banks, but we sustained no injury beyond the

entanglement of our rigging in the branches. The days and nights

usually passed in a dead calm, or with light intermittent winds

from up river, and consequently full against us. We landed twice

a day to give ourselves and the Indians a little rest and change,

and to cook our two meals--breakfast and dinner. There was

another passenger besides myself--a cautious, middle-aged

Portuguese, who was going to settle at Ega, where he had a

brother long since established. He was accommodated in the fore-

cabin, or arched covering over the hold. I shared the cabin-

proper with Senores Estulano and Manoel, the latter a young half-

caste, son-in-law to the owner of the vessel, under whose tuition

I made good progress in learning the Tupi language during the

voyage.

Our men took it in turns, two at a time, to go out fishing-- for

which purpose we carried a spare montaria. The master had brought

from Barra as provision, nothing but stale, salt pirarucu--half

rotten fish, in large, thin, rusty slabs--farinha, coffee, and

treacle. In these voyages, passengers are expected to provide for

themselves, as no charge is made except for freight of the heavy

luggage or cargo they take with them. The Portuguese and myself

had brought a few luxuries, such as beans, sugar, biscuits, tea,

and so forth; but we found ourselves almost obliged to share them

with our two companions and the pilot, so that before the voyage

was one-third finished, the small stock of most of these articles

was exhausted. In return, we shared in whatever the men brought.

Sometimes they were quite unsuccessful, for fish is extremely

difficult to procure in the season of high water, on account of

the lower lands lying between the inlets and infinite chain of

pools and lakes being flooded from the main river, thus

increasing tenfold the area over which the finny population has

to range. On most days, however, they brought two or three fine

fish, and once they harpooned a manatee, or Vacca marina. On this

last-mentioned occasion we made quite a holiday; the canoe was

stopped for six or seven hours, and all turned out into the

forest to help skin and cook the animal. The meat was cut into

cubical slabs, and each person skewered a dozen or so of these on

a long stick. Fires were made, and the spits stuck in the ground

and slanted over the flames to roast. A drizzling rain fell all

the time, and the ground around the fires swarmed with stinging

ants, attracted by the entrails and slime which were scattered

about. The meat has somewhat the taste of very coarse pork; but

the fat, which lies in thick layers between the lean parts, is of

a greenish colour, and of a disagreeable, fishy flavour. The

animal was a large one, measuring nearly ten feet in length, and

nine in girth at the broadest part. The manatee is one of the few

objects which excite the dull wonder and curiosity of the

Indians, notwithstanding its commonness. The fact of its suckling

its young at the breast, although an aquatic animal resembling a

fish, seems to strike them as something very strange. The animal,

as it lay on its back, with its broad rounded head and muzzle,

tapering body, and smooth, thick, lead-coloured skin reminded me

of those Egyptian tombs which are made of dark, smooth stone, and

shaped to the human figure.

Notwithstanding the hard fare, the confinement of the canoe, the

trying weather--frequent and drenching rains, with gleams of

fiery sunshine--and the woeful desolation of the river scenery, I

enjoyed the voyage on the whole. We were not much troubled by

mosquitoes, and therefore passed the nights very pleasantly,

sleeping on deck wrapped in blankets or old sails. When the rains

drove us below we were less comfortable, as there was only just

room in the small cabin for three of us to lie close together,

and the confined air was stifling. I became inured to the Piums

in the course of the first week; all the exposed parts of my

body, by that time, being so closely covered with black punctures

that the little bloodsuckers could not very easily find an

unoccupied place to operate upon. Poor Miguel, the Portuguese,

suffered horribly from these pests, his ankles and wrists being

so much inflamed that he was confined to his hammock, slung in

the hold, for weeks. At every landing place I had a ramble in the

forest, while the redskins made the fire and cooked the meal. The

result was a large daily addition to my collection of insects,

reptiles, and shells.

Sometimes the neighbourhood of our gipsy-like encampment was a

tract of dry and spacious forest, pleasant to ramble in; but more

frequently it was a rank wilderness, into which it was impossible

to penetrate many yards, on account of uprooted trees, entangled

webs of monstrous woody climbers, thickets of spiny bamboos,

swamps, or obstacles of one kind or other. The drier lands were

sometimes beautified to the highest degree by groves of the

Urucuri palm (Attalea excelsa), which grew by the thousands under

the crowns of the lofty, ordinary forest trees; their smooth

columnar stems being all of nearly equal height (forty or fifty

feet), and their broad, finely-pinnated leaves interlocking above

to form arches and woven canopies of elegant and diversified

shapes. The fruit of this palm ripens on the upper river in

April, and during our voyage I saw immense quantities of it

strewn about under the trees in places where we encamped. It is

similar in size and shape to the date, and has a pleasantly-

flavoured juicy pulp. The Indians would not eat it; I was

surprised at this, as they greedily devoured many other kinds of

palm fruit whose sour and fibrous pulp was much less palatable.

Vicente shook his head when he saw me one day eating a quantity

of the Urucuri plums. I am not sure they were not the cause of a

severe indigestion under which I suffered for many days

afterwards.

In passing slowly along the interminable wooded banks week after

week, I observed that there were three tolerably distinct kinds

of coast and corresponding forest constantly recurring on this

upper river. First, there were the low and most recent alluvial

deposits--a mixture of sand and mud, covered with tall, broad-

leaved grasses, or with the arrow-grass before described, whose

feathery-topped flower-stem rises to a height of fourteen or

fifteen feet. The only large trees which grow in these places are

the Cecropiae. Many of the smaller and newer islands were of this

description. Secondly, there were the moderately high banks,

which are only partially overflowed when the flood season is at

its height; these are wooded with a magnificent, varied forest,

in which a great variety of palms and broad-leaved Marantaceae

form a very large proportion of the vegetation. The general

foliage is of a vivid light-green hue; the water frontage is

sometimes covered with a diversified mass of greenery; but where

the current sets strongly against the friable, earthy banks,

which at low water are twenty-five to thirty feet high, these are

cut away, and expose a section of forest where the trunks of

trees loaded with epiphytes appear in massy colonnades. One might

safely say that three-fourths of the land bordering the Upper

Amazons, for a thousand miles, belong to this second class. The

third description of coast is the higher, undulating, clayey

land, which appears only at long intervals, but extends sometimes

for many miles along the borders of the river. The coast at these

places is sloping, and composed of red or variegated clay. The

forest is of a different character from that of the lower tracts:

it is rounder in outline, more uniform in its general aspect--

palms are much less numerous and of peculiar species--the strange

bulging-stemmed species, Iriartea ventricosa, and the slender,

glossy-leaved Bacaba-i (Oenocarpus minor), being especially

characteristic; and, in short, animal life, which imparts some

cheerfulness to the other parts of the river, is seldom apparent.

This "terra firme," as it is called, and a large portion of the

fertile lower land, seemed well adapted for settlement; some

parts were originally peopled by the aborigines, but these have

long since become extinct or amalgamated with the white

immigrants. I afterwards learned that there were not more than

eighteen or twenty families settled throughout the whole country

from Manacapuru to Quary, a distance of 240 miles; and these, as

before observed, do not live on the banks of the main stream, but

on the shores of inlets and lakes.

The fishermen twice brought me small rounded pieces of very

porous pumice-stone, which they had picked up floating on the

surface of the main current of the river. They were to me objects

of great curiosity as being messengers from the distant volcanoes

of the Andes-- Cotopaxi, Llanganete, or Sangay-- which rear their

peaks amongst the rivulets that feed some of the early

tributaries of the Amazons, such as the Macas, the Pastaza, and

the Napo. The stones must have already travelled a distance of

1200 miles. I afterwards found them rather common; the Brazilians

use them for cleaning rust from their guns, and firmly believe

them to be solidified river foam. A friend once brought me, when

I lived at Santarem, a large piece which had been found in the

middle of the stream below Monte Alegre, about 900 miles further

down the river; having reached this distance, pumice-stones would

be pretty sure of being carried out to sea, and floated thence

with the northwesterly Atlantic current to shores many thousand

miles distant from the volcanoes which ejected them. They are

sometimes stranded on the banks in different parts of the river.

Reflecting on this circumstance since I arrived in England, the

probability of these porous fragments serving as vehicles for the

transportation of seeds of plants, eggs of insects, spawn of

fresh-water fish, and so forth, has suggested itself to me. Their

rounded, water-worn appearance showed that they must have been

rolled about for a long time in the shallow streams near the

sources of the rivers at the feet of the volcanoes, before they

leapt the waterfalls and embarked on the currents which lead

direct for the Amazons. They may have been originally cast on the

land and afterwards carried to the rivers by freshets; in which

case the eggs and seeds of land insects and plants might be

accidentally introduced and safely enclosed with particles of

earth in their cavities. As the speed of the current in the rainy

season has been observed to be from three to five miles an hour,

they might travel an immense distance before the eggs or seeds

were destroyed. I am ashamed to say that I neglected the

opportunity, while on the spot, of ascertaining whether this was

actually the case. The attention of Naturalists has only lately

been turned to the important subject of occasional means of wide

dissemination of species of animals and plants. Unless such be

shown to exist, it is impossible to solve some of the most

difficult problems connected with the distribution of plants and

animals. Some species, with most limited powers of locomotion,

are found in opposite parts of the earth, without existing in the

intermediate regions; unless it can be shown that these may have

migrated or been accidentally transported from one point to the

other, we shall have to come to the strange conclusion that the

same species had been created in two separate districts.

Canoemen on the Upper Amazons live in constant dread of the

"terras cahidas," or landslips, which occasionally take place

along the steep earthy banks, especially when the waters are

rising. Large vessels are sometimes overwhelmed by these

avalanches of earth and trees. I should have thought the accounts

of them exaggerated if I had not had an opportunity during this

voyage of seeing one on a large scale. One morning I was awakened

before sunrise by an unusual sound resembling the roar of

artillery. I was lying alone on the top of the cabin; it was very

dark, and all my companions were asleep, so I lay listening. The

sounds came from a considerable distance, and the crash which had

aroused me was succeeded by others much less formidable. The

first explanation which occurred to me was that it was an

earthquake; for, although the night was breathlessly calm, the

broad river was much agitated and the vessel rolled heavily. Soon

after, another loud explosion took place, apparently much nearer

than the former one; then followed others. The thundering peal

rolled backwards and forwards, now seeming close at hand, now far

off--the sudden crashes being often succeeded by a pause or a

long,continued dull rumbling. At the second explosion, Vicente,

who lay snoring by the helm, awoke and told me it was a "terra

cahida"; but I could scarcely believe him. The day dawned after

the uproar had lasted about an hour, and we then saw the work of

destruction going forward on the other side of the river, about

three miles off. Large masses of forest, including trees of

colossal size, probably 200 feet in height, were rocking to and

fro, and falling headlong one after the other into the water.

After each avalanche the wave which it caused returned on the

crumbly bank with tremendous force, and caused the fall of other

masses by undermining them. The line of coast over which the

landslip extended, was a mile or two in length; the end of it,

however, was hidden from our view by an intervening island. It

was a grand sight; each downfall created a cloud of spray; the

concussion in one place causing other masses to give way a long

distance from it, and thus the crashes continued, swaying to and

fro, with little prospect of a termination. When we glided out of

sight, two hours after sunrise, the destruction was still going

on.

On the 22nd we threaded the Parana-mirim of Arauana-i, one of the

numerous narrow bywaters which lie conveniently for canoes away

from the main river, and often save a considerable circuit around

a promontory or island. We rowed for half a mile through a

magnificent bed of Victoria waterlilies, the flower-buds of which

were just beginning to expand. Beyond the mouth of the Catua, a

channel leading to one of the great lakes so numerous in the

plains of the Amazons, which we passed on the 25th, the river

appeared greatly increased in breadth. We travelled for three

days along a broad reach which both up and down river presented a

blank horizon of water and sky-- this clear view was owing to the

absence of islands, but it renewed one's impressions of the

magnitude of the stream, which here, 1200 miles from its mouth,

showed so little diminution of width. Further westward, a series

of large islands commences, which divides the river into two and

sometimes three channels, each about a mile in breadth. We kept

to the southernmost of these, travelling all day on the 30th of

April along a high and rather sloping bank.

In the evening we arrived at a narrow opening, which would be

taken by a stranger navigating the main channel for the cutlet of

some insignificant stream-- it was the mouth of the Teffe, on

whose banks Ega is situated, the termination of our voyage. After

having struggled for thirty-five days with the muddy currents and

insect pests of the Solimoens, it was unspeakably refreshing to

find oneself again in a dark-water river, smooth as a lake, and

free from Pium and Motuca. The rounded outline, small foliage,

and sombre-green of the woods, which seemed to rest on the glassy

waters, made a pleasant contrast to the tumultuous piles of rank,

glaring, light-green vegetation, and torn, timber-strewn banks to

which we had been so long accustomed on the main river. The men

rowed lazily until nightfall, when, having done a laborious day's

work, they discontinued and went to sleep, intending to make for

Ega in the morning. It was not thought worthwhile to secure the

vessel to the trees or cast anchor, as there was no current. I

sat up for two or three hours after my companions had gone to

rest, enjoying the solemn calm of the night. Not a breath of air

stirred; the sky was of a deep blue, and the stars seemed to

stand forth in sharp relief; there was no sound of life in the

woods, except the occasional melancholy note of some nocturnal

bird. I reflected on my own wandering life; I had now reached the

end of the third stage of my journey, and was now more than half

way across the continent. It was necessary for me, on many

accounts, to find a rich locality for Natural History

explorations, and settle myself in it for some months or years.

Would the neighbourhood of Ega turn out to be suitable, and

should I, a solitary stranger on a strange errand, find a welcome

amongst its people?

Our Indians resumed their oars at sunrise the next morning (May

1st), and after an hour's rowing along the narrow channel, which

varies in breadth from 100 to 500 yards, we doubled a low wooded

point, and emerged suddenly on the so-called Lake of Ega-- a

magnificent sheet of water, five miles broad, the expanded

portion of the Teffe. It is quite clear of islands, and curves

away to the west and south, so that its full extent is not

visible from this side. To the left, on a gentle grassy slope at

the point of junction of a broad tributary with the Teffe, lay

the little settlement-- a cluster of a hundred or so of palm-

thatched cottages and white-washed red-tiled houses, each with

its neatly-enclosed orchard of orange, lemon, banana, and guava

trees. Groups of palms, with their tall slender shafts and

feathery crowns, overtopped the buildings and lower trees. A

broad grass-carpeted street led from the narrow strip of white

sandy beach to the rudely-built barn-like church, with its wooden

crucifix on the green before it, in the centre of the town.

Cattle were grazing before the houses, and a number of dark-

skinned natives were taking their morning bath amongst the canoes

of various sizes, which were anchored or moored to stakes in the

port. We let off rockets and fired salutes, according to custom,

in token of our safe arrival, and shortly afterwards went ashore.

A few days' experience of the people and the forests of the

vicinity showed me that I might lay myself out for a long,

pleasant, and busy residence at this place. An idea of the kind

of people I had fallen amongst may be conveyed by an account of

my earliest acquaintances in the place. On landing, the owner of

the canoe killed an ox in honour of our arrival, and the next day

took me round the town to introduce me to the principal

residents. We first went to the Delegado of police, Senor Antonio

Cardozo, of whom I shall have to make frequent mention by-and-by.

He was a stout, broad-featured man, ranking as a white, but

having a tinge of negro blood, his complexion, however, was

ruddy, and scarcely betrayed the mixture. He received us in a

very cordial, winning manner; I had afterwards occasion to be

astonished at the boundless good nature of this excellent fellow,

whose greatest pleasure seemed to be to make sacrifices for his

friends. He was a Paraense, and came to Ega originally as a

trader; but, not succeeding in this, he turned planter on a small

scale and collector of the natural commodities of the country,

employing half-a-dozen Indians in the business.

We then visited the military commandant, an officer in the

Brazilian army, named Praia. He was breakfasting with the Vicar,

and we found the two in dishabille (morning-gown, loose round the

neck, and slippers), seated at a rude wooden table in an open

mud-floored verandah, at the back of the house. Commander Praia

was a little curly-headed man (also somewhat of a mulatto),

always merry and fond of practical jokes. His wife, Donna Anna, a

dressy dame from Santarem, was the leader of fashion in the

settlement. The Vicar, Father Luiz Gonsalvo Gomez, was a nearly

pureblood Indian, a native of one of the neighbouring villages,

but educated at Maranham, a city on the Atlantic seaboard. I

afterwards saw a good deal of him, as he was an agreeable,

sociable fellow, fond of reading and hearing about foreign

countries, and quite free from the prejudices which might be

expected in a man of his profession. I found him, moreover, a

thoroughly upright, sincere, and virtuous man. He supported his

aged mother and unmarried sisters in a very creditable way out of

his small salary and emoluments. It is a pleasure to be able to

speak in these terms of a Brazilian priest, for the opportunity

occurs rarely enough.

Leaving these agreeable new acquaintances to finish their

breakfast, we next called on the Director of the Indians of the

Japura, Senor Jose Chrysostomo Monteiro, a thin wiry Mameluco,

the most enterprising person in the settlement. Each of the

neighbouring rivers with its numerous wild tribes is under the

control of a Director, who is nominated by the Imperial

Government. There are now no missions in the regions of the Upper

Amazons; the "gentios" (heathens, or unbaptised Indians) being

considered under the management and protection of these despots,

who, like the captains of Trabalhadores, before mentioned, use

the natives for their own private ends. Senor Chrysostomo had, at

this time, 200 of the Japura Indians in his employ. He was half

Indian himself, but was a far worse master to the redskins than

the whites usually are.

We finished our rounds by paying our respects to a venerable

native merchant, Senor Romao de Oliveira, a tall, corpulent,

fine-looking old man, who received us with a naive courtesy quite

original in its way. He had been an industrious, enterprising man

in his younger days, and had built a substantial range of houses

and warehouses. The shrewd and able old gentleman knew nothing of

the world beyond the wilderness of the Solimoens and its few

thousands of isolated inhabitants, yet he could converse well and

sensibly, making observations on men and things as sagaciously as

though he had drawn them from long experience of life in a

European capital. The semi-civilised Indians respected old Romao,

and he had, consequently, a great number in his employ in

different parts of the river-- his vessels were always filled

quicker with produce than those of his neighbours. On our

leaving, he placed his house and store at my disposal. This was

not a piece of empty politeness, for some time afterwards, when I

wished to settle for the goods I had had of him, he refused to

take any payment.

I made Ega my headquarters during the whole of the time I

remained on the Upper Amazons (four years and a half). My

excursions into the neighbouring region extended sometimes as far

as 300 and 400 miles from the place. An account of these

excursions will be given in subsequent chapters; in the intervals

between them I led a quiet, uneventful life in the settlement,

following my pursuit in the same peaceful, regular way as a

Naturalist might do in a European village. For many weeks in

succession my journal records little more than the notes made on

my daily captures. I had a dry and specious cottage, the

principal room of which was made a workshop and study; here a

large table was placed, and my little library of reference

arranged on shelves in rough wooden boxes. Cages for drying

specimens were suspended from the rafters by cords well anointed,

to prevent ants from descending, with a bitter vegetable oil;

rats and mice were kept from them by inverted cuyas, placed half

way down the cords. I always kept on hand a large portion of my

private collection, which contained a pair of each species and

variety, for the sake of comparing the old with the new

acquisitions. My cottage was whitewashed inside and out about

once a year by the proprietor, a native trader; the floor was of

earth; the ventilation was perfect, for the outside air, and

sometimes the rain as well, entered freely through gaps at the

top of the walls under the eaves and through wide crevices in the

doorways. Rude as the dwelling was, I look back with pleasure on

the many happy months I spent in it. I rose generally with the

sun, when the grassy streets were wet with dew, and walked down

to the river to bathe; five or six hours of every morning were

spent in collecting in the forest, whose borders lay only five

minutes' walk from my house; the hot hours of the afternoon,

between three and six o'clock, and the rainy days, were occupied

in preparing and ticketing the specimens, making notes,

dissecting, and drawing. I frequently had short rambles by water

in a small montaria, with an Indian lad to paddle. The

neighbourhood yielded me, up to the last day of my residence, an

uninterrupted succession of new and curious forms in the

different classes of the animal kingdom, and especially insects.

I lived, as may already have been seen, on the best of terms with

the inhabitants of Ega. Refined society, of course, there was

none; but the score or so of decent quiet families which

constituted the upper class of the place were very sociable;

their manners offered a curious mixture of naive rusticity and

formal politeness; the great desire to be thought civilised leads

the most ignorant of these people (and they are all very

ignorant, although of quick intelligence) to be civil and kind to

strangers from Europe. I was never troubled with that impertinent

curiosity on the part of the people in these interior places

which some travellers complain of in other countries. The Indians

and lower half-castes--at least such of them who gave any thought

to the subject--seemed to think it natural that strangers should

collect and send abroad the beautiful birds and insects of their

country. The butterflies they universally concluded to be wanted

as patterns for bright-coloured calico-prints. As to the better

sort of people, I had no difficulty in making them understand

that each European capital had a public museum, in which were

sought to be stored specimens of all natural productions in the

mineral, animal, and vegetable kingdoms. They could not

comprehend how a man could study science for its own sake; but I

told them I was collecting for the "Museo de Londres," and was

paid for it; that was very intelligible. One day, soon after my

arrival, when I was explaining these things to a listening circle

seated on benches in the grassy street, one of the audience, a

considerable tradesman, a Mameluco native of Ega, got suddenly

quite enthusiastic, and exclaimed, "How rich are these great

nations of Europe! We half-civilised creatures know nothing. Let

us treat this stranger well, that he may stay amongst us and

teach our children." We very frequently had social parties, with

dancing and so forth; of these relaxations I shall have more to

say presently. The manners of the Indian population also gave me

some amusement for a long time. During the latter part of my

residence, three wandering Frenchmen, and two Italians, some of

them men of good education, on their road one after the other

from the Andes down the Amazons, became enamoured of this

delightfully situated and tranquil spot, and made up their minds

to settle here for the remainder of their lives. Three of them

ended by marrying native women. I found the society of these

friends a very agreeable change.

There were, of course, many drawbacks to the amenities of the

place as a residence for a European; but these were not of a

nature that my readers would perhaps imagine. There was scarcely

any danger from wild animals-- it seems almost ridiculous to

refute the idea of danger from the natives in a country where

even incivility to an unoffending stranger is a rarity. A jaguar,

however, paid us a visit one night. It was considered an

extraordinary event, and so much uproar was made by the men who

turned out with guns and bows and arrows, that the animal

scampered off and was heard of no more. Alligators were rather

troublesome in the dry season. During these months there was

almost always one or two lying in wait near the bathing place for

anything that might turn up at the edge of the water-- dog,

sheep, pig, child, or drunken Indian. When this visitor was about

every one took extra care whilst bathing. I used to imitate the

natives in not advancing far from the bank, and in keeping my eye

fixed on that of the monster, which stares with a disgusting leer

along the surface of the water; the body being submerged to the

level of the eyes, and the top of the head, with part of the

dorsal crest the only portions visible. When a little motion was

perceived in the water behind the reptile's tail, bathers were

obliged to beat a quick retreat. I was never threatened myself,

but I often saw the crowds of women and children scared while

bathing by the beast making a movement towards them -- a general

scamper to the shore and peals of laughter were always the result

in these cases. The men can always destroy these alligators when

they like to take the trouble to set out with montarias and

harpoons for the purpose; but they never do it unless one of the

monsters, bolder than usual, puts some one's life in danger. This

arouses them, and they then track the enemy with the greatest

pertinacity; when half-killed, they drag it ashore and dispatch

it amid loud execrations. Another, however, is sure to appear

some days or weeks afterwards and take the vacant place on the

station. Besides alligators, the only animals to be feared are

the poisonous serpents. These are certainly common enough in the

forest, but no fatal accident happened during the whole time of

my residence.

I suffered most inconvenience from the difficulty of getting news

from the civilised world down river, from the irregularity of

receipt of letters, parcels of books and periodicals, and towards

the latter part of my residence from ill health arising from bad

and insufficient food. The want of intellectual society, and of

the varied excitement of European life, was also felt most

acutely, and this, instead of becoming deadened by time,

increased until it became almost insupportable. I was obliged, at

last, to come to the conclusion that the contemplation of Nature

alone is not sufficient to fill the human heart and mind. I got

on pretty well when I received a parcel from England by the

steamer, once in two or four months. I used to be very economical

with my stock of reading lest it should be finished before the

next arrival, and leave me utterly destitute. I went over the

periodicals, the Athenaeum, for instance, with great

deliberation, going through every number three times; the first

time devouring the more interesting articles; the second, the

whole of the remainder; and the third, reading all the

advertisements from beginning to end. If four months (two

steamers) passed without a fresh parcel, I felt discouraged in

the extreme. I was worst off in the first year, 1850, when twelve

months elapsed without letters or remittances. Towards the end of

this time my clothes had worn to rags; I was barefoot, a great

inconvenience in tropical forests, notwithstanding statements to

the contrary that have been published by travellers; my servant

ran away, and I was robbed of nearly all my copper money. I was

obliged then to descend to Para, but returned, after finishing

the examination of the middle part of the Lower Amazons and the

Tapajos, in 1855, with my Santarem assistant and better provided

for making collections on the upper river. This second visit was

in pursuit of the plan before mentioned, of exploring in detail

the whole valley of the Amazons, which I formed in Para in the

year 1851.

During so long a residence I witnessed, of course, many changes

in the place. Some of the good friends who made me welcome on my

first arrival, died, and I followed their remains to their last

resting-place in the little rustic cemetery on the borders of the

surrounding forest. I lived there long enough, from first to

last, to see the young people grow up, attended their weddings,

and the christenings of their children, and, before I left, saw

them old married folks with numerous families. In 1850 Ega was

only a village, dependent on Para 1400 miles distant, as the

capital of the then undivided province. In 1852, with the

creation of the new province of the Amazons, it became a city;

returned its members to the provincial parliament at Barra; had

it assizes, its resident judges, and rose to be the chief town of

the comarca or county. A year after this, namely, in 1853,

steamers were introduced on the Solimoens; and from 1855, one ran

regularly every two months between the Rio Negro and Nauta in

Peru, touching at all the villages, and accomplishing the

distance in ascending, about 1200 miles, in eighteen days. The

trade and population, however, did not increase with these

changes. The people became more "civilised," that is, they began

to dress according to the latest Parisian fashions, instead of

going about in stockingless feet, wooden clogs, and shirt

sleeves, acquired a taste for money-getting and office-holding;

became divided into parties, and lost part of their former

simplicity of manners. But the place remained, when I left it in

1859, pretty nearly what it was when I first arrived in 1850--a

semi-Indian village, with much in the ways and notions of its

people more like those of a small country town in Northern Europe

than a South American settlement. The place is healthy, and

almost free from insect pests-- perpetual verdure surrounds it;

the soil is of marvellous fertility, even for Brazil; the endless

rivers and labyrinths of channels teem with fish and turtle, a

fleet of steamers might anchor at any season of the year in the

lake, which has uninterrupted water communication straight to the

Atlantic. What a future is in store for the sleepy little

tropical village!

After speaking of Ega as a city, it will have a ludicrous effect

to mention that the total number of its inhabitants is only about

1200. It contains just 107 houses, about half of which are

miserably built mud-walled cottages, thatched with palm leaves. A

fourth of the population are almost always absent, trading or

collecting produce on the rivers. The neighbourhood within a

radius of thirty miles, and including two other small villages,

contains probably 2000 more people. The settlement is one of the

oldest in the country, having beenfounded in 1688 by Father

Samuel Fritz, a Bohemian Jesuit, who induced several of the

docile tribes of Indians, then scattered over the neighbouring

region, to settle on the site. From 100 to 200 acres of sloping

ground around the place were afterwards cleared of timber; but

such is the encroaching vigour of vegetation in this country that

the site would quickly relapse into jungle if the inhabitants

neglected to pull up the young shoots as they arose. There is a

stringent municipal law which compels each resident to weed a

given space around his dwelling. Every month, whilst I resided

here, an inspector came round with his wand of authority, and

fined every one who had not complied with the regulation. The

Indians of the surrounding country have never been hostile to the

European settlers. The rebels of Para and the Lower Amazons, in

1835-6, did not succeed in rousing the natives of the Solimoens

against the whites. A party of forty of them ascended the river

for that purpose, but on arriving at Ega, instead of meeting with

sympathisers as in other places, they were surrounded by a small

body of armed residents, and shot down without mercy. The

military commandant at the time, who was the prime mover in this

orderly resistance to anarchy, was a courageous and loyal negro,

named Jose Patricio, an officer known throughout the Upper

Amazons for his unflinching honesty and love of order, whose

acquaintance I had the pleasure of making at St. Paulo in 1858.

Ega was the headquarters of the great scientific commission,

which met in the years from 1781 to 1791 to settle the boundaries

between the Spanish and Portuguese territories in South America.

The chief commissioner for Spain, Don Francisco Requena, lived

some time in the village with his family. I found only one person

at Ega, my old friend Romao de Oliveira, who recollected, or had

any knowledge of this important time, when a numerous staff of

astronomers, surveyors, and draughtsmen, explored much of the

surrounding country with large bodies of soldiers and natives.

More than half the inhabitants of Ega are Mamelucos; there are

not more than forty or fifty pure whites; the number of negroes

and mulattos is probably a little less, and the rest of the

population consists of pure blood Indians. Every householder,

including Indians and free negroes, is entitled to a vote in the

elections, municipal, provincial, and imperial, and is liable to

be called on juries, and to serve in the national guard. These

privileges and duties of citizenship do not seem at present to be

appreciated by the more ignorant coloured people. There is,

however, a gradual improvement taking place in this respect.

Before I left there was a rather sharp contest for the Presidency

of the Municipal Chamber, and most of the voters took a lively

interest in it. There was also an election of members to

represent the province in the Imperial Parliament at Rio Janeiro,

in which each party strove hard to return its candidate. On this

occasion, an unscrupulous lawyer was sent by the government party

from the capital to overawe the opposition to its nominee; many

of the half-castes, headed by my old friend John da Cunha, who

was then settled at Ega, fought hard, but with perfect legality

and good humour, against this powerful interest. They did not

succeed -- and although the government agent committed many

tyrannical and illegal acts, the losing party submitted quietly

to their defeat. In a larger town, I believe, the government

would not have dared to attempt thus to control the elections. I

think I saw enough to warrant the conclusion that the machinery

of constitutional government would, with a little longer trial,

work well amongst the mixed Indian, white, and negro population,

even in this remote part of the Brazilian empire. I attended

also, before I left, several assize meetings at Ega, and

witnessed the novel sight of negro, white, half-caste, and

Indian, sitting gravely side by side on the jury bench.

The way in which the coloured races act under the conditions of

free citizenship is a very interesting subject. Brazilian

statesmen seem to have abandoned the idea, if they ever

entertained it, of making this tropical empire a nation of whites

with a slave labouring class. The greatest difficulty on the

Amazons is with the Indians. The general inflexibility of

character of the race, and their abhorrence of the restraints of

civilised life, make them very intractable subjects. Some of

them, however, who have learned to read and write, and whose

dislike to live in towns has been overcome by some cause acting

early in life, make very good citizens. I have already mentioned

the priest, who is a good example of what early training can do.

There can be no doubt that if the docile Amazonian Indians were

kindly treated by their white fellow-citizens, and educated, they

would not be so quick as they have hitherto shown themselves to

be to leave the towns and return into their half wild condition

on the advancing civilisation of the places. The inflexibility of

character, although probably organic, is seen to be sometimes

overcome.

The principal blacksmith of Ega, Senor Macedo, was also an

Indian, and a very sensible fellow. He sometimes filled minor

offices in the government of the place. He used to come very

frequently to my house to chat, and was always striving to

acquire solid information about things. When Donati's comet

appeared, he took a great interest in it. We saw it at its best

from the 3rd to the 10th of October (1858), between which dates

it was visible near the western horizon just after sunset, the

tail extending in a broad curve towards the north, and forming a

sublime object. Macedo consulted all the old almanacs in the

place to ascertain whether it was the same comet as that of 1811,

which he said he well remembered.

Before the Indians can be reclaimed in large numbers, it is most

likely they will become extinct as a race; but there is less

difficulty with regard to the Mamelucos, who, even when the

proportion of white blood is small, sometimes become enterprising

and versatile people.Many of the Ega Indians, including all the

domestic servants, are savages who have been brought from the

neighbouring rivers-- the Japura, the Issa, and the Solimoens. I

saw here individuals of at least sixteen different tribes, most

of whom had been bought, when children, of the native chiefs.

This species of slave-dealing, although forbidden by the laws of

Brazil, is winked at by the authorities, because without it,

there would be no means of obtaining servants. They all become

their own masters when they grow up, and never show the slightest

inclination to return to utter savage life. But the boys

generally run away and embark on the canoes of traders; and the

girls are often badly treated by their mistresses-- the jealous,

passionate, and ill-educated Brazilian women. Nearly all the

enmities which arise amongst residents at Ega and other place,

are caused by disputes about Indian servants. No one who has

lived only in old settled countries, where service can be readily

bought, can imagine the difficulties and annoyances of a land

where the servant class are ignorant of the value of money, and

hands cannot be obtained except by coaxing them from the employ

of other masters.

Great mortality takes place amongst the poor captive children on

their arrival at Ega. It is a singular circumstance that the

Indians residing on the Japura and other tributaries always fall

ill on descending to the Solimoens, while the reverse takes place

with the inhabitants of the banks of the main river, who never

fail of taking intermittent fever when they first ascend these

branch rivers, and of getting well when they return. The finest

tribes of savages who inhabit the country near Ega are the Juris

and Passes-- these are now, however, nearly extinct, a few

families only remaining on the banks of the retired creeks

connected with the Teffe, and on other branch rivers between the

Teffe and the Jutahi. They are a peaceable, gentle, and

industrious people, devoted to agriculture and fishing, and have

always been friendly to the whites. I shall have occasion to

speak again of the Passes, who are a slenderly-built and superior

race of Indians, distinguished by a large, square tattooed patch

in the middle of their faces. The principal cause of their decay

in numbers seems to be a disease which always appears amongst

them when a village is visited by people from the civilised

settlements--a slow fever, accompanied by the symptoms of a

common cold, "defluxo," as the Brazilians term it, ending

probably in consumption. The disorder has been known to break out

when the visitors were entirely free from it-- the simple contact

of civilised men, in some mysterious way, being sufficient to

create it. It is generally fatal to the Juris and Passes; the

first question the poor, patient Indians now put to an advancing

canoe is, "Do you bring defluxo?"

My assistant, Jose, in the last year of our residence at Ega,

"resgatou" (ransomed, the euphemism in use for purchased) two

Indian children, a boy and a girl, through a Japura trader. The

boy was about twelve years of age, and of an unusually dark

colour of skin-- he had, in fact, the tint of a Cafuzo, the

offspring of Indian and negro. It was thought he had belonged to

some perfectly wild and houseless tribe, similar to the

Pararauates of the Tapajos, of which there are several in

different parts of the interior of South America. His face was of

regular, oval shape, but his glistening black eyes had a wary,

distrustful expression, like that of a wild animal; his hands and

feet were small and delicately formed. Soon after his arrival,

finding that none of the Indian boys and girls in the houses of

our neighbours understood his language, he became sulky and

reserved; not a word could be got from him until many weeks

afterwards, when he suddenly broke out with complete phrases of

Portuguese. He was ill of swollen liver and spleen, the result of

intermittent fever, for a long time after coming into our hands.

We found it difficult to cure him, owing to his almost invincible

habit of eating earth, baked clay, pitch, wax, and other similar

substances. Very many children on the upper parts of the Amazons

have this strange habit; not only Indians, but negroes and

whites. It is not, therefore, peculiar to the famous Otomacs of

the Orinoco, described by Humboldt,or to Indians at all, and

seems to originate in a morbid craving, the result of a meagre

diet of fish, wild-fruits, and mandioca-meal. We gave our little

savage the name of Sebastian.

The use of these Indian children is to fill water-jars from the

river, gather firewood in the forest, cook, assist in paddling

the montaria in excursions, and so forth. Sebastian was often my

companion in the woods, where he was very useful in finding the

small birds I shot, which sometimes fell in the thickets amongst

confused masses of fallen branches and dead leaves. He was

wonderfully expert at catching lizards with his hands, and at

climbing. The smoothest stems of palm trees offered little

difficulty to him; he would gather a few lengths of tough,

flexible lianas, tie them in a short, endless band to support his

feet with, in embracing the slippery shaft, and then mount

upwards by a succession of slight jerks. It was very amusing,

during the first few weeks, to witness the glee and pride with

which he would bring to me the bunches of fruit he had gathered

from almost inaccessible trees. He avoided the company of boys of

his own race, and was evidently proud of being the servant of a

real white man. We brought him down with us to Para, but he

showed no emotion at any of the strange sights of the capital--

the steam-vessels, large ships and houses, horses and carriages,

the pomp of church ceremonies, and so forth. In this he exhibited

the usual dullness of feeling and poverty of thought of the

Indian; he had, nevertheless, very keen perceptions, and was

quick at learning any mechanical art. Jose, who had resumed, some

time before I left the country, his old trade of goldsmith, made

him his apprentice, and he made very rapid progress; for after

about three months' teaching he came to me one day with radiant

countenance and showed me a gold ring of his own making.

The fate of the little girl, who came with a second batch of

children all ill of intermittent fever, a month or two after

Sebastian, was very different. She was brought to our house,

after landing, one night in the wet season, when the rain was

pouring in torrents, thin and haggard, drenched with wet and

shivering with ague. An old Indian who brought her to the door

said briefly, "ecui encommenda" (here's your little parcel, or

order), and went away. There was very little of the savage in her

appearance, and she was of a much lighter colour than the boy. We

found she was of the Miranha tribe, all of whom are distinguished

by a slit, cut in the middle of each wing of the nose, in which

they wear on holiday occasions a large button made of pearly

river-shell. We took the greatest care of our little patient; had

the best nurses in the town, fomented her daily, gave her quinine

and the most nourishing food; but it was all of no avail, she

sank rapidly; her liver was enormously swollen, and almost as

hard to the touch as stone. There was something uncommonly

pleasing in her ways, and quite unlike anything I had yet seen in

Indians. Instead of being dull and taciturn, she was always

smiling and full of talk. We had an old woman of the same tribe

to attend her, who explained what she said to us. She often

begged to be taken to the river to bathe; asked for fruit, or

coveted articles she saw in the room for playthings. Her native

name was Oria. The last week or two she could not rise from the

bed we had made for her in a dry corner of the room; when she

wanted lifting, which, was very often, she would allow no one to

help her but me, calling me by the name of "Cariwa " (white man),

the only word of Tupi she seemed to know. It was inexpressibly

touching to hear her, as she lay, repeating by the hour the

verses which she had been taught to recite with her companions in

her native village: a few sentences repeated over and over again

with a rhythmic accent, and relating to objects and incidents

connected with the wild life of her tribe. We had her baptised

before she died, and when this latter event happened, in

opposition to the wishes of the big people of Ega, I insisted on

burying her with the same honours as a child of the whites; that

is, as an "anjinho" (little angel), according to the pretty Roman

Catholic custom of the country. We had the corpse clothed in a

robe of fine calico, crossed her hands on her breast over a

"palma" of flowers, and made also a crown of flowers for her

head. Scores of helpless children like our poor Oria die at Ega,

or on the road; but generally not the slightest care is taken of

them during their illness. They are the captives made during the

merciless raids of one section of the Miranha tribe on the

territories of another, and sold to the Ega traders. The villages

of the attacked hordes are surprised, and the men and women

killed or driven into the thickets without having time to save

their children. There appears to be no doubt that the Miranhas

are cannibals, and, therefore, the purchase of these captives

probably saves them from a worse fate. The demand for them at Ega

operates, however, as a direct cause of the supply, stimulating

the unscrupulous chiefs, who receive all the profits, to

undertake these murderous expeditions.

It is remarkable how quickly the savages of the various nations,

which each have their own, to all appearance, widely different

language, learn Tupi on their arrival at Ega, where it is the

common idiom. This perhaps may be attributed chiefly to the

grammatical forms of all the Indian tongues being the same,

although the words are different. As far as I could learn, the

feature is common to all, of placing the preposition after the

noun, making it, in fact, a post-position, thus: "He is come the

village from;" "Go him with, the plantation to," and so forth.

The ideas to be expressed in their limited sphere of life and

thought are few; consequently the stock of words is extremely

small; besides, all Indians have the same way of thinking, and

the same objects to talk about; these circumstances also

contribute to the case with which they learn each other's

language. Hordes of the same tribe living on the same branch

rivers, speak mutually unintelligible languages; this happens

with the Miranhas on the Japura, and with the Collinas on the

Jurua; whilst Tupi is spoken with little corruption along the

banks of the main Amazons for a distance Of 2500 miles. The

purity of Tupi is kept up by frequent communication amongst the

natives, from one end to the other of the main river; how

complete and long-continued must be the isolation in which the

small groups of savages have lived in other parts, to have caused

so complete a segregation of dialects! It is probable that the

strange inflexibility of the Indian organisation, both bodily and

mental, is owing to the isolation in which each small tribe has

lived, and to the narrow round of life and thought, and close

intermarriages for countless generations which are the necessary

results. Their fecundity is of a low degree, for it is very rare

to find an Indian family having so many as four children, and we

have seen how great is their liability to sickness and death on

removal from place to place.

I have already remarked on the different way in which the climate

of this equatorial region affects Indians and negroes. No one

could live long amongst the Indians of the Upper Amazons without

being struck with their constitutional dislike to the heat.

Europeans certainly withstand the high temperature better than

the original inhabitants of the country; I always found I could

myself bear exposure to the sun or unusually hot weather quite as

well as the Indians, although not well-fitted by nature for a hot

climate. Their skin is always hot to the touch, and they perspire

little. No Indian resident of Ega can be induced to stay in the

village (where the heat is felt more than in the forest or on the

river), for many days together. They bathe many times a day, but

do not plunge in the water, taking merely a sitz-bath, as dogs

may be seen doing in hot climates, to cool the lower parts of the

body. The women and children, who often remain at home, while the

men are out for many days together fishing, generally find some

excuse for trooping off to the shades of the forest in the hot

hours of the afternoons. They are restless and discontented in

fine dry weather, but cheerful in cool days, when the rain is

pouring down on their naked backs. When suffering under fever,

nothing but strict watching can prevent them from going down to

bathe in the river, or eating immoderate quantities of juicy

fruits, although these indulgences are frequently the cause of

death. They are very subject to disorders of the liver,

dysentery, and other diseases of hot climates, and when any

epidemic is about, they fall ill quicker, and suffer more than

negroes or even whites. How different all this is with the negro,

the true child of tropical climes! The impression gradually

forced itself on my mind that the red Indian lives as a stranger,

or immigrant in these hot regions, and that his constitution was

not originally adapted, and has not since become perfectly

adapted, to the climate.

The Indian element is very prominent in the amusements of the Ega

people. All the Roman Catholic holidays are kept up with great

spirit; rude Indian sports being mingled with the ceremonies

introduced by the Portuguese. Besides these, the aborigines

celebrate their own ruder festivals; the people of different

tribes combining-- for, in most of their features, the merry-

makings were originally alike in all the tribes. The Indian idea

of a holiday is bonfires, processions, masquerading, especially

the mimicry of different kinds of animals, plenty of confused

drumming and fifing, monotonous dancing, kept up hour after hour

without intermission, and, the most important point of all,

getting gradually and completely drunk. But he attaches a kind of

superstitious significance to these acts, and thinks that the

amusements appended to the Roman Catholic holidays as celebrated

by the descendants of the Portuguese, are also an essential part

of the religious ceremonies. But in this respect, the uneducated

whites and half-breeds are not a bit more enlightened than the

poor, dull-souled Indian. All look upon a religious holiday as an

amusement, in which the priest takes the part of director or

chief actor.

Almost every unusual event, independent of saints' days, is made

the occasion of a holiday by the sociable, easy-going people of

the white and Mameluco classes-- funerals, christenings,

weddings, the arrival of strangers, and so forth. The custom of

"waking" the dead is also kept up. A few days after I arrived, I

was awoke in the middle of a dark, moist night by Cardozo, to sit

up with a neighbour whose wife had just died. I found the body

laid out on a table, with crucifix and lighted wax-candles at the

head, and the room full of women and girls squatted on stools or

on their haunches. The men were seated round the open door,

smoking, drinking coffee, and telling stories, the bereaved

husband exerting himself much to keep the people merry during the

remainder of the night. The Ega people seem to like an excuse for

turning night into day; it is so cool and pleasant, and they can

sit about during these hours in the open air, clad as usual in

simple shirt and trousers, without streaming with perspiration.

The patron saint is Santa Theresa, the festival at whose

anniversary lasts, like most of the others, ten days. It begins

very quietly with evening litanies sung in the church, which are

attended by the greater part of the population, all clean and

gaily dressed in calicos and muslins; the girls wearing jasmines

and other natural flowers in their hair, no other headdress being

worn by females of any class. The evenings pass pleasantly; the

church is lighted up with wax candles, and illuminated on the

outside by a great number of little oil lamps, rude clay cups, or

halves of the thick rind of the bitter orange, which are fixed

all over the front. The congregation seem very attentive, and the

responses to the litany of Our Lady, sung by a couple of hundred

fresh female voices, ring agreeably through the still village.

Towards the end of the festival the fun commences. The managers

of the feast keep open houses, and dancing, drumming, tinkling of

wire guitars, and unbridled drinking by both sexes, old and

young, are kept up for a couple of days and a night with little

intermission. The ways of the people at these merry-makings, of

which there are many in the course of the year, always struck me

as being not greatly different from those seen at an old-

fashioned village wake in retired parts of England. The old folks

look on and get very talkative over their cups; the children are

allowed a little extra indulgence in sitting up; the dull,

reserved fellows become loquacious, shake one another by the hand

or slap each other on the back, discovering, all at once, what

capital friends they are. The cantankerous individual gets

quarrelsome, and the amorous unusually loving. The Indian,

ordinarily so taciturn, finds the use of his tongue, and gives

the minutest details of some little dispute which he had with his

master years ago, and which everyone else had forgotten-- just as

I have known lumpish labouring men in England do, when half-

fuddled. One cannot help reflecting, when witnessing these traits

of manners, on the similarity of human nature everywhere, when

classes are compared whose state of culture and conditions of

life are pretty nearly the same.

The Indians play a conspicuous part in the amusements at St.

John's eve, and at one or two other holidays which happen about

that time of the year--the end of June. In some of the sports the

Portuguese element is visible, in others the Indian, but it must

be recollected that masquerading, recitative singing, and so

forth, are common originally to both peoples. A large number of

men and boys disguise themselves to represent different grotesque

figures, animals, or persons. Two or three dress themselves up as

giants, with the help of a tall framework. One enacts the part of

the Caypor, a kind of sylvan deity similar to the Curupira which

I have before mentioned. The belief in this being seems to be

common to all the tribes of the Tupi stock. According to the

figure they dressed up at Ega, he is a bulky, misshapen monster,

with red skin and long shaggy red hair hanging half way down his

back. They believe that he has subterranean campos and hunting

grounds in the forest, well stocked with pacas and deer. He is

not at all an object of worship nor of fear, except to children,

being considered merely as a kind of hobgoblin. Most of the

masquers make themselves up as animals--bulls, deer, magoary

storks, jaguars, and so forth, with the aid of light frameworks,

covered with old cloth dyed or painted and shaped according to

the object represented. Some of the imitations which I saw were

capital. One ingenious fellow arranged an old piece of canvas in

the form of a tapir, placed himself under it, and crawled about

on all fours. He constructed an elastic nose to resemble that of

the tapir, and made, before the doors of the principal residents,

such a good imitation of the beast grazing, that peals of

laughter greeted him wherever he went. Another man walked about

solitarily, masked as a jabiru crane (a large animal standing

about four feet high), and mimicked the gait and habits of the

bird uncommonly well. One year an Indian lad imitated me, to the

infinite amusement of the townsfolk. He came the previous day to

borrow of me an old blouse and straw hat. I felt rather taken in

when I saw him, on the night of the performance, rigged out as an

entomologist, with an insect net, hunting bag, and pincushion. To

make the imitation complete, he had borrowed the frame of an old

pair of spectacles, and went about with it straddled over his

nose. The jaguar now and then made a raid amongst the crowd of

boys who were dressed as deer, goats, and so forth. The masquers

kept generally together, moving from house to house, and the

performances were directed by an old musician, who sang the

orders and explained to the spectators what was going forward in

a kind of recitative, accompanying himself on a wire guitar. The

mixture of Portuguese and Indian customs is partly owing to the

European immigrants in these parts having been uneducated men,

who, instead of introducing European civilisation, have descended

almost to the level of the Indians, and adopted some of their

practices. The performances take place in the evening, and occupy

five or six hours; bonfires are lighted along the grassy streets,

and the families of the better class are seated at their doors,

enjoying the wild but good-humoured fun.

We lived at Ega, during most part of the year, on turtle. The

great freshwater turtle of the Amazons grows on the upper river

to an immense size, a full-grown one measuring nearly three feet

in length by two in breadth, and is a load for the strongest

Indian. Every house has a little pond, called a curral (pen), in

the backyard to hold a stock of the animals through the season of

dearth--the wet months; those who have a number of Indians in

their employ send them out for a month when the waters are low,

to collect a stock, and those who have not, purchasing their

supply-- with some difficulty, however, as they are rarely

offered for sale. The price of turtles, like that of all other

articles of food, has risen greatly with the introduction of

steam-vessels. When I arrived in 1850, a middle-sized one could

be bought pretty readily for ninepence, but when I left in 1859,

they were with difficulty obtained at eight and nine shillings

each. The abundance of turtles, or rather the facility with which

they can be found and caught, varies with the amount of annual

subsidence of the waters. When the river sinks less than the

average, they are scarce; but when more, they can be caught in

plenty, the bays and shallow lagoons in the forest having then

only a small depth of water. The flesh is very tender, palatable,

and wholesome; but it is very cloying-- every one ends, sooner or

later, by becoming thoroughly surfeited. I became so sick of

turtle in the course of two years that I could not bear the smell

of it, although at the same time nothing else was to be had, and

I was suffering actual hunger. The native women cook it in

various ways. The entrails are chopped up and made into a

delicious soup called sarapatel, which is generally boiled in the

concave upper shell of the animal used as a kettle. The tender

flesh of the breast is partially minced with farinha, and the

breast shell then roasted over the fire, making a very pleasant

dish. Steaks cut from the breast and cooked with the fat form

another palatable dish. Large sausages are made of the thick-

coated stomach, which is filled with minced meat and boiled. The

quarters cooked in a kettle of Tucupi sauce form another variety

of food. When surfeited with turtle in all other shapes, pieces

of the lean part roasted on a spit and moistened only with

vinegar make an agreeable change. The smaller kind of turtle, the

tracaja, which makes its appearance in the main river, and lays

its eggs a month earlier than the large species, is of less

utility to the inhabitants although its flesh is superior, on

account of the difficulty of keeping it alive; it survives

captivity but a very few days, although placed in the same ponds

in which the large turtle keeps well for two or three years.

Those who cannot hunt and fish for themselves, and whose stomachs

refuse turtle, are in a poor way at Ega. Fish, including many

kinds of large and delicious salmonidae, is abundant in the fine

season; but each family fishes only for itself, and has no

surplus for sale. An Indian fisherman remains out just long

enough to draw what he thinks sufficient for a couple of days'

consumption. Vacca marina is a great resource in the wet season.

It is caught by harpooning, which requires much skill, or by

strong nets made of very thick hammock twine, and placed across

narrow inlets. Very few Europeans are able to eat the meat of

this animal. Although there is a large quantity of cattle in the

neighbourhood of the town, and pasture is abundant all the year

round, beef can be had only when a beast is killed by accident.

The most frequent cause of death is poisoning by drinking raw

Tucupi, the juice of the mandioca root. Bowls of this are placed

on the ground in the sheds where the women prepare farinha; it is

generally done carelessly, but sometimes intentionally through

spite when stray oxen devastate the plantations of the poorer

people. The juice, is almost certain to be drunk if cattle stray

near the place, and death is the certain result. The owners kill

a beast which shows symptoms of having been poisoned, and retail

the beef in the town. Although every one knows it cannot be

wholesome, such is the scarcity of meat and the uncontrollable

desire to eat beef, that it is eagerly bought, at least by those

residents who come from other provinces where beef is the staple

article of food. Game of all kinds is scarce in the forest near

the town, except in the months of June and July, when immense

numbers of a large and handsome bird, Cuvier's toucan (Ramphastos

Cuvieri) make their appearance. They come in well-fed condition,

and are shot in such quantities that every family has the strange

treat of stewed and roasted toucans daily for many weeks.

Curassow birds are plentiful on the banks of the Solimoens, but

to get a brace or two requires the sacrifice of several days for

the trip. A tapir, of which the meat is most delicious and

nourishing, is sometimes killed by a fortunate hunter. I have

still a lively recollection of the pleasant effects which I once

experienced from a diet of fresh tapir meat for a few days, after

having been brought to a painful state of bodily and mental

depression by a month's scanty rations of fish and farinha.

We sometimes had fresh bread at Ega made from American flour

brought from Para, but it was sold at ninepence a pound. I was

once two years without tasting wheaten bread, and attribute

partly to this the gradual deterioration of health which I

suffered on the Upper Amazons. Mandioca meal is a poor, weak

substitute for bread; it is deficient in gluten, and consequently

cannot be formed into a leavened mass or loaf, but is obliged to

be roasted in hard grains in order to keep any length of time.

Cakes are made of the half-roasted meal, but they become sour in

a very few hours. A superior kind of meal is manufactured at Ega

of the sweet mandioca (Manihot Aypi); it is generally made with a

mixture of the starch of the root and is therefore a much more

wholesome article of food than the ordinary sort which, on the

Amazons, is made of the pulp after the starch has been extracted

by soaking in water. When we could get neither bread nor biscuit,

I found tapioca soaked in coffee the best native substitute. We

were seldom without butter, as every canoe brought one or two

casks on each return voyage from Para, where it is imported in

considerable quantity from Liverpool. We obtained tea in the same

way; it being served as a fashionable luxury at wedding and

christening parties; the people were at first strangers to this

article, for they used to stew it in a saucepan, mixing it up

with coarse raw sugar, and stirring it with a spoon. Sometimes we

had milk, but this was only when a cow calved; the yield from

each cow was very small, and lasted only for a few weeks in each

case, although the pasture is good, and the animals are sleek and

fat. Fruit of the ordinary tropical sorts could generally be had.

I was quite surprised at the variety of the wild kinds, and of

the delicious flavour of some of them. Many of these are utterly

unknown in the regions nearer the Atlantic, being the peculiar

productions of this highly favoured, and little known, interior

country. Some have been planted by the natives in their

clearings. The best was the Jabuti-puhe, or tortoise-foot; a

scaled fruit probably of the Anonaceous order. It is about the

size of an ordinary apple; when ripe the rind is moderately thin,

and encloses, with the seeds, a quantity of custardy pulp of a

very rich flavour. Next to this stands the Cuma (Collophora sp.)

of which there are two species, not unlike in appearance, small

round Dears-- but the rind is rather hard, and contains a gummy

milk, and the pulpy part is almost as delicious as that of the

Jabuti-puhe. The Cuma tree is of moderate height, and grows

rather plentifully in the more elevated and drier situations. A

third kind is the Pama, which is a stone fruit, similar in colour

and appearance to the cherry but of oblong shape. The tree is one

of the loftiest in the forest, and has never, I believe, been

selected for cultivation. To get at the fruit the natives are

obliged to climb to the height of about a hundred feet, and cut

off the heavily laden branches. I have already mentioned the

Umari and the Wishi: both these are now cultivated. The fatty,

bitter pulp which surrounds the large stony seeds of these fruits

is eaten mixed with farinha, and is very nourishing. Another

cultivated fruit is the Puruma (Puruma cecropiaefolia, Martius),

a round juicy berry, growing in large bunches and resembling

grapes in taste. Another smaller kind, called Puruma-i, grows

wild in the forest close to Ega, and has not yet been planted.

The most singular of all these fruits is the Uiki, which is of

oblong shape, and grows apparently crosswise on the end of its

stalk. When ripe, the thick green rind opens by a natural cleft

across the middle, and discloses an oval seed the size of a

damascene plum, but of a vivid crimson colour. This bright hue

belongs to a thin coating of pulp which, when the seeds are mixed

in a plate of stewed bananas, gives to the mess a pleasant rosy

tint, and a rich creamy taste and consistence. Mingua (porridge)

of bananas flavoured and coloured with Uiki is a favourite dish

at Ega. The fruit, like most of the others here mentioned, ripens

in January. Many smaller fruits such as Wajuru (probably a

species of Achras), the size of a gooseberry, which grows singly

and contains a sweet gelatinous pulp, enclosing two large,

shining black seeds; Cashipari-arapaa, an oblong scarlet berry;

two kinds of Bacuri, the Bacuri-siuma and the B. curua, sour

fruits of a bright lemon colour when ripe, and a great number of

others, are of less importance as articles of food.

The celebrated "Peach palm," Pupunha of the Tupi nations

(Guilielma speciosa), is a common tree at Ega. The name, I

suppose, is in allusion to the colour of the fruit, and not to

its flavour, for it is dry and mealy, and in taste may be

compared to a mixture of chestnuts and cheese. Vultures devour it

eagerly, and come in quarrelsome flocks to the trees when it is

ripe. Dogs will also eat it: I do not recollect seeing cats do

the same, although they go voluntarily to the woods to eat

Tucuma, another kind of palm fruit. The tree, as it grows in

clusters beside the palm-thatched huts, is a noble ornament,

being, when full grown, from fifty to sixty feet in height and

often as straight as a scaffold-pole. A bunch of fruit when ripe

is a load for a strong man, and each tree bears several of them.

The Pupunha grows wild nowhere on the Amazons. It is one of those

few vegetable productions (including three kinds of mandioca and

the American species of banana) which the Indians have cultivated

from time immemorial, and brought with them in their original

migration to Brazil. It is only, however, the more advanced

tribes who have kept up the cultivation. The superiority of the

fruit on the Solimoens to that grown on the Lower Amazons and in

the neighbourhood of Para is very striking. At Ega it is

generally as large as a full-sized peach, and when boiled, almost

as mealy as a potato; while at Para it is no bigger than a

walnut, and the pulp is fibrous. Bunches of sterile or seedless

fruits sometimes occur in both districts. It is one of the

principal articles of food at Ega when in season, and is boiled

and eaten with treacle or salt. A dozen of the seedless fruits

makes a good nourishing meal for a grown-up person. It is the

general belief that there is more nutriment in Pupunha than in

fish or Vacca marina.

The seasons in the Upper Amazons region offer some points of

difference from those of the lower river and the district of

Para, which two sections of the country we have already seen also

differ considerably. The year at Ega is divided according to the

rises and falls of the river, with which coincide the wet and dry

periods. All the principal transactions of life of the

inhabitants are regulated by these yearly recurring phenomena.

The peculiarity of this upper region consists in there being two

rises and two falls within the year. The great annual rise

commences about the end of February and continues to the middle

of June, during which the rivers and lakes, confined during the

dry periods to their ordinary beds, gradually swell and overflow

all the lower lands. The inundation progresses gently inch by

inch, and is felt everywhere, even in the interior of the forests

of the higher lands, miles away from the river; as these are

traversed by numerous gullies, forming in the fine season dry,

spacious dells, which become gradually transformed by the

pressure of the flood into broad creeks navigable, by small boats

under the shade of trees. All the countless swarms of turtle of

various species then leave the main river for the inland pools;

the sand-banks go under water, and the flocks of wading birds

migrate north to the upper waters of the tributaries which flow

from that direction, or to the Orinoco, which streams during the

wet period of the Amazons are enjoying the cloudless skies of

their dry season. The families of fishermen who have been

employed during the previous four or five months in harpooning

and salting pirarucu and shooting turtle in the great lakes, now

return to the towns and villages-- their temporarily constructed

fishing establishments becoming gradually submerged with the sand

islets or beaches on which they were situated. This is the

season, however, in which the Brazil nut and wild cacao ripen,

and many persons go out to gather these harvests, remaining

absent generally throughout the months of March and April. The

rains during this time are not continuous; they fall very heavily

at times, but rarely last so long at a stretch as twenty-four

hours, and many days intervene of pleasant, sunny weather. The

sky, however, is generally overcast and gloomy, and sometimes a

drizzling rain falls.

About the first week in June the flood is at its highest; the

water being then about forty-five feet above its lowest point;

but it varies in different years to the extent of about fifteen

feet. The "enchente," or flow, as it is called by the natives,

who believe this great annual movement of the waters to be of the

same nature as the tide towards the mouth of the Amazons, is then

completed, and all begin to look forward to the "vasante," or

ebb. The provision made for the dearth of the wet season is by

this time pretty nearly exhausted; fish is difficult to procure

and many of the less provident inhabitants have become reduced to

a diet of fruits and farinha porridge.

The fine season begins with a few days of brilliant weather--

furious, hot sun, with passing clouds. Idle men and women, tired

of the dullness and confinement of the flood season, begin to

report, on returning from their morning bath, the cessation of

the flow-- as agoas estao paradas, "the waters have stopped." The

muddy streets, in a few days, dry up; groups of young fellows are

now seen seated on the shady sides of the cottages making arrows

and knitting fishing-nets with tucum twine; others are busy

patching up and caulking their canoes, large and small; in fact,

preparations are made on all sides for the much longed-for

"verao," or summer, and the "migration," as it is called, of fish

and turtle-- that is, their descent from the inaccessible pools

in the forest to the main river. Towards the middle of July, the

sand-banks begin to reappear above the surface of the waters, and

with this change come flocks of sandpipers and gulls, which

latter make known the advent of the fine season, as the cuckoo

does of the European spring-- uttering almost incessantly their

plaintive cries as they fly about over the shallow waters of

sandy shores. Most of the gaily-plumaged birds have now finished

moulting, and begin to be more active in the forest.

The fall continues to the middle of October, with the

interruption of a partial rise called "repiquet" of a few inches

in the midst of very dry weather in September, caused by the

swollen contribution of some large affluent higher up the river.

The amount of subsidence also varies considerably, but it is

never so great as to interrupt navigation by large vessels. The

greater it is the more abundant is the season. Everyone is

prosperous when the waters are low; the shallow bays and pools

being then crowded with the concentrated population of fish and

turtle. All the people-- men, women, and children-- leave the

villages and spend the few weeks of glorious weather rambling

over the vast undulating expanses of sand in the middle of the

Solimoens, fishing, hunting, collecting eggs of turtle and

plovers and thoroughly enjoying themselves. The inhabitants pray

always for a "vasante grande," or great ebb.

From the middle of October to the beginning of January, the

second wet season prevails. The rise is sometimes not more than

about fifteen feet, but it is, in some years, much more

extensive, laying the large sand islands under water before the

turtle eggs are hatched. In one year, while I resided at Ega,

this second annual inundation reached to within ten feet of the

highest water point as marked by the stains on the trunks of

trees by the river side.

The second dry season comes on in January, and lasts throughout

February. The river sinks sometimes to the extent of a few feet

only, but one year (1856) I saw it ebb to within about five feet

of its lowest point in September. This is called the summer of

the Umari, "Verao do Umari," after the fruit of this name already

described, which ripens at this season. When the fall is great,

this is the best time to catch turtles. In the year above

mentioned, nearly all the residents who had a canoe, and could

work a paddle, went out after them in the month of February, and

about 2000 were caught in the course of a few days. It appears

that they had been arrested in their migration towards the

interior pools of the forest by the sudden drying up of the

water-courses, and so had become easy prey.

Thus the Ega year is divided into four seasons; two of dry

weather and falling waters, and two of the reverse. Besides this

variety, there is, in the month of May, a short season of very

cold weather, a most surprising circumstance in this otherwise

uniformly sweltering climate. This is caused by the continuance

of a cold wind, which blows from the south over the humid forests

that extend without interruption from north of the equator to the

eighteenth parallel of latitude in Bolivia. I had, unfortunately,

no thermometer with me at Ega-- the only one I brought with me

from England having been lost at Para. The temperature is so much

lowered that fishes die in the river Teffe, and are cast in

considerable quantities on its shores. The wind is not strong,

but it brings cloudy weather, and lasts from three to five or six

days in each year. The inhabitants all suffer much from the cold,

many of them wrapping themselves up with the warmest clothing

they can get (blankets are here unknown), and shutting themselves

indoors with a charcoal fire lighted. I found, myself, the change

of temperature most delightful, and did not require extra

clothing. It was a bad time, however, for my pursuit, as birds

and insects all betook themselves to places of concealment, and

remained inactive. The period during which this wind prevails is

called the "tempo da friagem," or the season of coldness. The

phenomenon, I presume, is to be accounted for by the fact that in

May it is winter in the southern temperate zone, and that the

cool currents of air travelling thence northwards towards the

equator become only moderately heated in their course, owing to

the intermediate country being a vast, partially-flooded plain

covered with humid forests.

CHAPTER XI

EXCURSIONS IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF EGA

The River Teffe--Rambles through Groves on the Beach--Excursion

to the House of a Passe Chieftain--Character and Customs of the

Passe Tribe--First Excursion: Sand Islands of the Solimoens--

Habits of Great River Turtle--Second Excursion:Turtle-fishing in

the Inland Pools--Third Excursion: Hunting-rambles with Natives

in

the Forest--Return to Ega

I WILL now proceed to give some account of the more interesting

of my shorter excursions in the neighbourhood of Ega. The

incidents of the longer voyages, which occupied each several

months, will be narrated in a separate chapter.

The settlement, as before described, is built on a small tract of

cleared land at the lower or eastern end of the lake, six or

seven miles from the main Amazons, with which the lake

communicates by a narrow channel. On the opposite shore of the

broad expanse stands a small village, called Nogueira, the houses

of which are not visible from Ega, except on very clear days; the

coast on the Nogueira side is high, and stretches away into the

grey distance towards the southwest. The upper part of the river

Teffe is not visited by the Ega people, on account of its extreme

unhealthiness, and its barrenness in sarsaparilla and other

wares. To Europeans it would seem a most surprising thing that

the people of a civilised settlement, a hundred and seventy years

old, should still be ignorant of the course of the river on whose

banks their native place, for which they proudly claim the title

of city, is situated. It would be very difficult for a private

individual to explore it, as the necessary number of Indian

paddlers could not be obtained. I knew only one person who had

ascended the Teffe to any considerable distance, and he was not

able to give me a distinct account of the river. The only tribe

known to live on its banks are the Catauishis, a people who

perforate their lips all round, and wear rows of slender sticks

in the holes: their territory lies between the Purus and the

Jurua, embracing both shores of the Teffe. A large, navigable

stream, the Bararua, enters the lake from the west, about thirty

miles above Ega; the breadth of the lake is much contracted a

little below the mouth of this tributary, but it again expands

further south, and terminates abruptly where the Teffe proper, a

narrow river with a strong current, forms its head water.

The whole of the country for hundreds of miles is covered with

picturesque but pathless forests, and there are only two roads

along which excursions can be made by land from Ega. One is a

narrow hunter's track, about two miles in length, which traverses

the forest in the rear of the settlement. The other is an

extremely pleasant path along the beach to the west of the town.

This is practicable only in the dry season, when a flat strip of

white sandy beach is exposed at the foot of the high wooded banks

of the lake, covered with trees, which, as there is no underwood,

form a spacious shady grove. I rambled daily, during many weeks

of each successive dry season, along this delightful road. The

trees, many of which are myrtles and wild Guavas, with smooth

yellow stems, were in flower at this time; and the rippling

waters of the lake, under the cool shade, everywhere bordered the

path. The place was the resort of kingfishers, green and blue

tree-creepers, purple-headed tanagers, and hummingbirds. Birds

generally, however, were not numerous. Every tree was tenanted by

Cicadas, the reedy notes of which produced that loud, jarring,

insect music which is the general accompaniment of a woodland

ramble in a hot climate. One species was very handsome, having

wings adorned with patches of bright green and scarlet. It was

very common-- sometimes three or four tenanting a single tree,

clinging as usual to the branches. On approaching a tree thus

peopled, a number of little jets of a clear liquid would be seen

squirted from aloft. I have often received the well-directed

discharge full on my face; but the liquid is harmless, having a

sweetish taste, and is ejected by the insect from the anus,

probably in self-defence, or from fear. The number and variety of

gaily-tinted butterflies, sporting about in this grove on sunny

days, were so great that the bright moving flakes of colour gave

quite a character to the physiognomy of the place. It was

impossible to walk far without disturbing flocks of them from the

damp sand at the edge of the water, where they congregated to

imbibe the moisture. They were of almost all colours, sizes, and

shapes: I noticed here altogether eighty species, belonging to

twenty-two different genera. It is a singular fact that, with

very few exceptions, all the individuals of these various species

thus sporting in sunny places were of the male sex; their

partners, which are much more soberly dressed and immensely less

numerous than the males, being confined to the shades of the

woods. Every afternoon, as the sun was getting low, I used to

notice these gaudy sunshine-loving swains trooping off to the

forest, where I suppose they would find their sweethearts and

wives. The most abundant, next to the very common sulphur-yellow

and orange-coloured kinds, were about a dozen species of Eunica,

which are of large size, and are conspicuous from their liveries

of glossy dark-blue and purple. A superbly-adorned creature, the

Callithea Markii, having wings of a thick texture, coloured

sapphire-blue and orange, was only an occasional visitor. On

certain days, when the weather was very calm, two small gilded-

green species (Symmachia Trochilus and Colubris) literally

swarmed on the sands, their glittering wings lying wide open on

the flat surface. The beach terminates, eight miles beyond Ega,

at the mouth of a rivulet; the character of the coast then

changes, the river banks being masked by a line of low islets

amid a labyrinth of channels.

In all other directions my very numerous excursions were by

water; the most interesting of those made in the immediate

neighbourhood were to the houses of Indians on the banks of

retired creeks-- an account of one of these trips will suffice.

On the 23rd of May, 1850, I visited, in company with Antonio

Cardozo, the Delegado, a family of the Passe tribe, who live near

the head waters of the Igarape, which flows from the south into

the Teffe, entering it at Ega. The creek is more than a quarter

of a mile broad near the town, but a few miles inland it

gradually contracts, until it becomes a mere rivulet flowing

through a broad dell in the forest. When the river rises it fills

this dell; the trunks of the lofty trees then stand many feet

deep in the water, and small canoes are able to travel the

distance of a day's journey under the shade, regular paths or

alleys being cut through the branches and lower trees. This is

the general character of the country of the Upper Amazons; a land

of small elevation and abruptly undulated, the hollows forming

narrow valleys in the dry months, and deep navigable creeks in

the wet months. In retired nooks on the margins of these shady

rivulets, a few families or small hordes of aborigines still

linger in nearly their primitive state, the relicts of their once

numerous tribes. The family we intended to visit on this trip was

that of Pedro-uassu (Peter the Great, or Tall Peter), an old

chieftain or Tushaua of the Passes.

We set out at sunrise, in a small igarite, manned by six young

Indian paddlers. After travelling about three miles along the

broad portion of the creek-- which, being surrounded by woods,

had the appearance of a large pool-- we came to a part where our

course seemed to be stopped by an impenetrable hedge of trees and

bushes. We were some time before finding the entrance, but when

fairly within the shades, a remarkable scene presented itself. It

was my first introduction to these singular waterpaths. A narrow

and tolerably straight alley stretched away for a long distance

before us; on each side were the tops of bushes and young trees,

forming a kind of border to the path, and the trunks of the tall

forest trees rose at irregular intervals from the water, their

crowns interlocking far over our heads, and forming a thick

shade. Slender air roots hung down in clusters, and looping sipos

dangled from the lower branches; bunches of grass, tillandsiae,

and ferns sat in the forks of the larger boughs, and the trunks

of trees near the water had adhering to them round dried masses

of freshwater sponges. There was no current perceptible, and the

water was stained of a dark olive-brown hue, but the submerged

stems could be seen through it to a great depth. We travelled at

good speed for three hours along this shady road-- the distance

of Pedro's house from Ega being about twenty miles. When the

paddlers rested for a time, the stillness and gloom of the place

became almost painful: our voices waked dull echoes as we

conversed, and the noise made by fishes occasionally whipping the

surface of the water was quite startling. A cool, moist, clammy

air pervaded the sunless shade.

The breadth of the wooded valley, at the commencement, is

probably more than half a mile, and there is a tolerably clear

view for a considerable distance on each side of the water-path

through the irregular colonnade of trees; other paths also, in

this part, branch off right and left from the principal road,

leading to the scattered houses of Indians on the mainland. The

dell contracts gradually towards the head of the rivulet, and the

forest then becomes denser; the waterpath also diminishes in

width, and becomes more winding, on account of the closer growth

of the trees. The boughs of some are stretched forth at no great

height over one's head, and are seen to be loaded with epiphytes;

one orchid I noticed particularly, on account of its bright

yellow flowers growing at the end of flower-stems several feet

long. Some of the trunks, especially those of palms, close

beneath their crowns, were clothed with a thick mass of glossy

shield-shaped Pothos plants, mingled with ferns. Arrived at this

part we were, in fact, in the heart of the virgin forest. We

heard no noises of animals in the trees, and saw only one bird,

the sky-blue chatterer, sitting alone on a high branch. For some

distance the lower vegetation was so dense that the road runs

under an arcade of foliage, the branches having been cut away

only sufficiently to admit of the passage of a small canoe. These

thickets are formed chiefly of bamboos, whose slender foliage and

curving stems arrange themselves in elegant, feathery bowers; but

other social plants --slender green climbers with tendrils so

eager in aspiring to grasp the higher boughs that they seem to be

endowed almost with animal energy, and certain low trees having

large elegantly-veined leaves-- contribute also to the jungly

masses. Occasionally we came upon an uprooted tree lying across

the path, its voluminous crown still held up by thick cables of

sipo, connecting it with standing trees; a wide circuit had to be

made in these cases, and it was sometimes difficult to find the

right path again.

At length we arrived at our journey's end. We were then in a very

dense and gloomy part of the forest-- we could see, however, the

dry land on both sides of the creek, and to our right a small

sunny opening appeared, the landing place to the native

dwellings. The water was deep close to the bank, and a clean

pathway ascended from the shady port to the buildings, which were

about a furlong distant. My friend Cardozo was godfather to a

grandchild of Pedro-uassu, whose daughter had married an Indian

settled in Ega. He had sent word to the old man that he intended

to visit him: we were therefore expected.

As we landed, Pedro-uassu himself came down to the port to

receive us, our arrival having been announced by the barking of

dogs. He was a tall and thin old man, with a serious, but

benignant expression of countenance, and a manner much freer from

shyness and distrust than is usual with Indians. He was clad in a

shirt of coarse cotton cloth, dyed with murishi, and trousers of

the same material turned up to the knee. His features were

sharply delineated-- more so than in any Indian face I had yet

seen; the lips thin and the nose rather high and compressed. A

large, square, blue-black tattooed patch occupied the middle of

his face, which, as well as the other exposed parts of his body,

was of a light reddish-tan colour, instead of the usual coppery-

brown hue. He walked with an upright, slow gait, and on reaching

us saluted Cardozo with the air of a man who wished it to be

understood that he was dealing with an equal. My friend

introduced me, and I was welcomed in the same grave, ceremonious

manner. He seemed to have many questions to ask, but they were

chiefly about Senora Felippa, Cardozo's Indian housekeeper at

Ega, and were purely complimentary. This studied politeness is

quite natural to Indians of the advanced agricultural tribes. The

language used was Tupi-- I heard no other spoken all the day. It

must be borne in mind that Pedro-uassu had never had much

intercourse with whites; he was, although baptised, a primitive

Indian who had always lived in retirement, the ceremony of

baptism having been gone through, as it generally is by the

aborigines, simply from a wish to stand well with the whites.

Arrived at the house, we were welcomed by Pedro's wife: a thin,

wrinkled, active old squaw, tattooed in precisely the same way as

her husband. She also had sharp features, but her manner was more

cordial and quicker than that of her husband: she talked much,

and with great inflection of voice; while the tones of the old

man were rather drawling and querulous. Her clothing was a long

petticoat of thick cotton cloth, and a very short chemise, not

reaching to her waist. I was rather surprised to find the grounds

around the establishment in neater order than in any sitio, even

of civilised people, I had yet seen on the Upper Amazons; the

stock of utensils and household goods of all sorts was larger,

and the evidences of regular industry and plenty more numerous

than one usually perceives in the farms of civilised Indians and

whites. The buildings were of the same construction as those of

the humbler settlers in all other parts of the country. The

family lived in a large, oblong, open shed built under the shade

of trees. Two smaller buildings, detached from the shed and

having mud-walls with low doorways, contained apparently the

sleeping apartments of different members of the large household.

A small mill for grinding sugar-cane, having two cylinders of

hard notched wood, wooden troughs, and kettles for boiling the

guarapa (cane juice) to make treacle, stood under a separate

shed, and near it was a large enclosed mud-house for poultry.

There was another hut and shed a short distance off, inhabited by

a family dependent on Pedro, and a narrow pathway through the

luxuriant woods led to more dwellings of the same kind. There was

an abundance of fruit trees around the place, including the

never-failing banana, with its long, broad, soft green leaf-

blades, and groups of full-grown Pupunhas, or peach palms. There

was also a large number of cotton and coffee trees. Among the

utensils I noticed baskets of different shapes, made of flattened

maranta stalks, and dyed various colours. The making of these is

an original art of the Passes, but I believe it is also practised

by other tribes, for I saw several in the houses of semi-

civilised Indians on the Tapajos.

There were only three persons in the house besides the old

couple, the rest of the people being absent; several came in,

however, in the course of the day. One was a daughter of Pedro's,

who had an oval tattooed spot over her mouth; the second was a

young grandson; and the third the son-in-law from Ega, Cardozo's

compadre. The old woman was occupied, when we entered, in

distilling spirits from cara, an edible root similar to the

potato, by means of a clay still, which had been manufactured by

herself. The liquor had a reddish tint, but not a very agreeable

flavour. A cup of it, warm from the still, however, was welcome

after our long journey. Cardozo liked it, emptied his cup, and

replenished it in a very short time. The old lady was very

talkative, and almost fussy in her desire to please her visitors.

We sat in tucum hammocks, suspended between the upright posts of

the shed. The young woman with the blue mouth-- who, although

married, was as shy as any young maiden of her race--soon became

employed in scalding and plucking fowls for the dinner near the

fire on the ground at the other end of the dwelling. The son-in-

law, Pedro-uassu, and Cardozo now began a long conversation on

the subject of their deceased wife, daughter, and comadre. [Co-

mother; the term expressing the relationship of a mother to the

godfather of her child.] It appeared she had died of consumption-

-"tisica," as they called it, a word adopted by the Indians from

the Portuguese. The widower repeated over and over again, in

nearly the same words, his account of her illness, Pedro chiming

in like a chorus, and Cardozo moralising and condoling. I thought

the cauim (grog) had a good deal to do with the flow of talk and

warmth of feeling of all three; the widower drank and wailed

until he became maundering, and finally fell asleep.I left them

talking, and took a long ramble into the forest, Pedro sending

his grandson, a smiling well-behaved lad of about fourteen years

of age, to show me the paths, my companion taking with him his

Zarabatana, or blow-gun. This instrument is used by all the

Indian tribes on the Upper Amazons. It is generally nine or ten

feet long, and is made of two separate lengths of wood, each

scooped out so as to form one-half of the tube. To do this with

the necessary accuracy requires an enormous amount of patient

labour, and considerable mechanical ability, the tools used being

simply the incisor teeth of the Paca and Cutia. The two half

tubes, when finished, are secured together by a very close and

tight spirally-wound strapping, consisting of long flat strips of

Jacitara, or the wood of the climbing palm-tree; and the whole is

smeared afterwards with black wax, the production of a Melipona

bee. The pipe tapers towards the muzzle, and a cup-shaped

mouthpiece, made of wood, is fitted in the broad end. A full-

sized Zarabatana is heavy, and can only be used by an adult

Indian who has had great practice. The young lads learn to shoot

with smaller and lighter tubes. When Mr. Wallace and I had

lessons at Barra in the use of the blow-gun, of Julio, a Juri

Indian, then in the employ of Mr. Hauxwell, an English bird-

collector, we found it very difficult to hold steadily the long

tubes. The arrows are made from the hard rind of the leaf-stalks

of certain palms, thin strips being cut, and rendered as sharp as

needles by scraping the ends with a knife or the tooth of an

animal. They are winged with a little oval mass of samauma silk

(from the seed-vessels of the silk-cotton tree, Eriodendron

samauma), cotton being too heavy. The ball of samauma should fit

to a nicety the bore of the blowgun; when it does so, the arrow

can be propelled with such force by the breath that it makes a

noise almost as loud as a pop-gun on flying from the muzzle. My

little companion was armed with a quiver full of these little

missiles, a small number of which, sufficient for the day's

sport, were tipped with the fatal Urari poison. The quiver was an

ornamental affair, the broad rim being made of highly-polished

wood of a rich cherry-red colour (the Moira-piranga, or redwood

of the Japura). The body was formed of neatly-plaited strips of

Maranta stalks, and the belt by which it was suspended from the

shoulder was decorated with cotton fringes and tassels.

We walked about two miles along a well-trodden pathway, through

high caapoeira (second-growth forest). A large proportion of the

trees were Melastomas, which bore a hairy yellow fruit, nearly as

large and as well flavoured as our gooseberry. The season,

however, was nearly over for them. The road was bordered every

inch of the way by a thick bed of elegant Lycopodiums. An

artificial arrangement of trees and bushes could scarcely have

been made to wear so finished an appearance as this naturally

decorated avenue. The path at length terminated at a plantation

of mandioca, the largest I had yet seen since I left the

neighbourhood of Para. There were probably ten acres of cleared

land, and part of the ground was planted with Indian corn, water-

melons, and sugar cane. Beyond this field there was only a faint

hunter's track, leading towards the untrodden interior. My

companion told me he had never heard of there being any

inhabitants in that direction (the south). We crossed the forest

from this place to another smaller clearing, and then walked, on

our road home, through about two miles of caapoeira of various

ages, the sites of old plantations. The only fruits of our ramble

were a few rare insects and a Japu (Cassicus cristatus), a

handsome bird with chestnut and saffron-coloured plumage, which

wanders through the tree-tops in large flocks. My little

companion brought this down from a height which I calculated at

thirty yards. The blow-gun, however, in the hands of an expert

adult Indian, can be made to propel arrows so as to kill at a

distance of fifty and sixty yards. The aim is most certain when

the tube is held vertically, or nearly so. It is a far more

useful weapon in the forest than a gun, for the report of a

firearm alarms the whole flock of birds or monkeys feeding on a

tree, while the silent poisoned dart brings the animals down one

by one until the sportsman has a heap of slain by his side. None

but the stealthy Indian can use it effectively. The poison, which

must be fresh to kill speedily, is obtained only of the Indians

who live beyond the cataracts of the rivers flowing from the

north, especially the Rio Negro and the Japura. Its principal

ingredient is the wood of the Strychnos toxifera, a tree which

does not grow in the humid forests of the river plains. A most

graphic account of the Urari, and of an expedition undertaken in

search of the tree in Guiana, has been given by Sir Robert

Schomburgk. [Annals and Magazine of Natural History, vol. vii. P.

411.]

When we returned to the house after mid-day, Cardozo was still

sipping cauim, and now looked exceedingly merry. It was fearfully

hot; the good fellow sat in his hammock with a cuya full of grog

in his hands; his broad honest face all of a glow, and the

perspiration streaming down his uncovered breast, the unbuttoned

shirt having slipped half-way over his broad shoulders. Pedro-

uassu had not drunk much; he was noted, as I afterwards learned,

for his temperance. But he was standing up as I had left him two

hours previous, talking to Cardozo in the same monotonous tones,

the conversation apparently not having flagged all the time. I

had never heard so much talking amongst Indians. The widower was

asleep; the stirring, managing old lady with her daughter were

preparing dinner. This, which was ready soon after I entered,

consisted of boiled fowls and rice, seasoned with large green

peppers and lemon juice, and piles of new, fragrant farinha and

raw bananas. It was served on plates of English manufacture on a

tupe, or large plaited rush mat, such as is made by the natives

pretty generally on the Amazons. Three or four other Indians, men

and women of middle age, now made their appearance, and joined in

the meal. We all sat round on the floor: the women, according to

custom, not eating until after the men had done. Before sitting

down, our host apologised in his usual quiet, courteous manner

for not having knives and forks; Cardozo and I ate by the aid of

wooden spoons, the Indians using their fingers. The old man

waited until we were all served before he himself commenced. At

the end of the meal, one of the women brought us water in a

painted clay basin of Indian manufacture, and a clean coarse

cotton napkin, that we might wash our hands.

The horde of Passes of which Pedro-uassu was Tushaua or

chieftain, was at this time reduced to a very small number of

individuals. The disease mentioned in the last chapter had for

several generations made great havoc among them; many had also

entered the service of whites at Ega, and, of late years,

intermarriages with whites, half-castes, and civilised Indians

had been frequent. The old man bewailed the fate of his race to

Cardozo with tears in his eyes. "The people of my nation," he

said," have always been good friends to the Cariwas (whites), but

before my grandchildren are old like me the name of Passe will be

forgotten." In so far as the Passes have amalgamated with

European immigrants or their descendants, and become civilised

Brazilian citizens, there can scarcely be ground for lamenting

their extinction as a nation; but it fills one with regret to

learn how many die prematurely of a disease which seems to arise

on their simply breathing the same air as the whites. The

original territory of the tribe must have been of large extent,

for Passes are said to have been found by the early Portuguese

colonists on the Rio Negro; an ancient settlement on that river,

Barcellos, having been peopled by them when it was first

established; and they formed also part of the original population

of Fonte-boa on the Solimoens. Their hordes were therefore,

spread over a region 400 miles in length from cast to west. It is

probable, however, that they have been confounded by the

colonists with other neighbouring tribes who tattoo their faces

in a similar manner. The extinct tribe of Yurimauas, or Sorimoas,

from which the river Solimoens derives its name, according to

traditions extant at Ega, resembled the Passes in their slender

figures and friendly disposition. These tribes (with others lying

between them) peopled the banks of the main river and its by-

streams from the mouth of the Rio Negro to Peru. True Passes

existed in their primitive state on the banks of the Issa, 240

miles to the west of Ega, within the memory of living persons.

The only large body of them now extant are located on the Japura,

at a place distant about 150 miles from Ega: the population of

this horde, however, does not exceed, from what I could learn,

300 or 400 persons. I think it probable that the lower part of

the Japura and its extensive delta lands formed the original home

of this gentle tribe of Indians.

The Passes are always spoken of in this country as the most

advanced of all the Indian nations in the Amazons region. Under

what influences this tribe has become so strongly modified in

mental, social, and bodily features it is hard to divine. The

industrious habits, fidelity, and mildness of disposition of the

Passes, their docility and, it may be added, their personal

beauty, especially of the children and women, made them from the

first very attractive to the Portuguese colonists. They were,

consequently, enticed in great number from their villages and

brought to Barra and other settlements of the whites. The wives

of governors and military officers from Europe were always eager

to obtain children for domestic servants; the girls being taught

to sew, cook, weave hammocks, manufacture pillow-lace, and so

forth. They have been generally treated with kindness, especially

by the educated families in the settlements. It is pleasant to

have to record that I never heard of a deed of violence

perpetrated, on the one side or the other, in the dealings

between European settlers and this noble tribe of savages.

Very little is known of the original customs of the Passes. The

mode of life of our host Pedro-uassu did not differ much from

that of the civilised Mamelucos; but he and his people showed a

greater industry, and were more open, cheerful, and generous in

their dealings than many half-castes. The authority of Pedro,

like that of the Tushauas, generally was exercised in a mild

manner. These chieftains appear able to command the services of

their subjects, since they furnish men to the Brazilian

authorities when requested; but none of them, even those of the

most advanced tribes, appear to make use of this authority for

the accumulation of property-- the service being exacted chiefly

in time of war. Had the ambition of the chiefs of some of these

industrious tribes been turned to the acquisition of wealth,

probably we should have seen indigenous civilised nations in the

heart of South America similar to those found on the Andes of

Peru and Mexico. It is very probable that the Passes adopted from

the first to some extent the manners of the whites. Ribeiro, a

Portuguese official who travelled in these regions in 1774-5, and

wrote an account of his journey, relates that they buried their

dead in large earthenware vessels (a custom still observed among

other tribes on the Upper Amazons), and that, as to their

marriages, the young men earned their brides by valiant deeds in

war. He also states that they possessed a cosmogony in which the

belief that the sun was a fixed body, with the earth revolving

around it, was a prominent feature. He says, moreover, that they

believed in a Creator of all things; a future state of rewards

and punishments, and so forth. These notions are so far in

advance of the ideas of all other tribes of Indians, and so

little likely to have been conceived and perfected by a people

having no written language or leisured class, that we must

suppose them to have been derived by the docile Passes from some

early missionary or traveller. I never found that the Passes had

more curiosity or activity of intellect than other Indians. No

trace of a belief in a future state exists amongst Indians who

have not had much intercourse with the civilised settlers, and

even amongst those who have it is only a few of the more gifted

individuals who show any curiosity on the subject. Their sluggish

minds seem unable to conceive or feel the want of a theory of the

soul, and of the relations of man to the rest of Nature or to the

Creator. But is it not so with totally uneducated and isolated

people even in the most highly civilised parts of the world? The

good qualities of the Passes belong to the moral part of the

character: they lead a contented, unambitious, and friendly life,

a quiet, domestic, orderly existence, varied by occasional

drinking bouts and summer excursions. They are not so shrewd,

energetic, and masterful as the Mundurucus, but they are more

easily taught, because their disposition is more yielding than

that of the Mundurucus or any other tribe.

We started on our return to Ega at half-past four o'clock in the

afternoon. Our generous entertainers loaded us with presents.

There was scarcely room for us to sit in the canoe, as they had

sent down ten large bundles of sugar-cane, four baskets of

farinha, three cedar planks, a small hamper of coffee, and two

heavy bunches of bananas. After we were embarked, the old lady

came with a parting gift for me--a huge bowl of smoking hot

banana porridge. I was to eat it on the road "to keep my stomach

warm." Both stood on the bank as we pushed off, and gave us their

adios: "Ikudna Tupana eirum" (Go with God)-- a form of salutation

taught by the old Jesuit missionaries. We had a most

uncomfortable passage, for Cardozo was quite tipsy, and had not

attended to the loading of the boat. The cargo had been placed

too far forward, and to make matters worse, my heavy friend

obstinately insisted on sitting astride on the top of the pile,

instead of taking his place near the stern, singing from his

perch a most indecent love-song, and disregarding the

inconvenience of having to bend down almost every minute to pass

under the boughs of hanging sipos as we sped rapidly along. The

canoe leaked but not, at first, alarmingly. Long before sunset,

darkness began to close in under those gloomy shades, and our

steersman could not avoid now and then running the boat into the

thicket. The first time this happened a piece was broken off the

square prow (rodella); the second time we got squeezed between

two trees. A short time after this latter accident, being seated

near the stern with my feet on the bottom of the boat, I felt

rather suddenly the cold water above my ankles. A few minutes

more and we should have sunk, for a seam had been opened forward

under the pile of sugar-cane. Two of us began to bale, and by the

most strenuous efforts managed to keep afloat without throwing

overboard our cargo. The Indians were obliged to paddle with

extreme slowness to avoid shipping water, as the edge of our prow

was nearly level with the surface; but Cardozo was now persuaded

to change his seat. The sun set, the quick twilight passed, and

the moon soon after began to glimmer through the thick canopy of

foliage. The prospect of being swamped in this hideous solitude

was by no means pleasant, although I calculated on the chance of

swimming to a tree and finding a nice snug place in the fork of

some large bough wherein to pass the night.

At length, after four hours' tedious progress, we suddenly

emerged on the open stream where the moonlight glittered in broad

sheets on the gently rippling waters. A little extra care was now

required in paddling. The Indians plied their strokes with the

greatest nicety; the lights of Ega (the oil lamps in the houses)

soon appeared beyond the black wall of forest, and in a short

time we leapt safely ashore.

A few months after the excursion just narrated, I accompanied

Cardozo in many wanderings on the Solimoens, during which he

visited the praias (sand-islands), the turtle pools in the

forests, and the by-streams and lakes of the great desert river.

His object was mainly to superintend the business of digging up

turtle eggs on the sandbanks, having been elected commandante for

the year by the municipal council of Ega, of the "praia real"

(royal sand-island) of Shimuni, the one lying nearest to Ega.

There are four of these royal praias within the Ega district (a

distance of 150 miles from the town), all of which are visited

annually by the Ega people for the purpose of collecting eggs and

extracting oil from their yolks Each has its commander, whose

business is to make arrangements for securing to every inhabitant

an equal chance in the egg harvest by placing sentinels to

protect the turtles whilst laying, and so forth. The pregnant

turtles descend from the interior pools to the main river in July

and August, before the outlets dry up, and then seek in countless

swarms their favourite sand islands; for it is only a few praias

that are selected by them out of the great number existing. The

young animals remain in the pools throughout the dry season.

These breeding places of turtles then lie twenty to thirty or

more feet above the level of the river, and are accessible only

by cutting roads through the dense forest.

We left Ega on our first trip to visit the sentinels while the

turtles were yet laying, on the 26th of September. Our canoe was

a stoutly built igarite, arranged for ten paddlers, and having a

large arched toldo at the stern under which three persons could

sleep pretty comfortably. Emerging from the Teffe we descended

rapidly on the swift current of the Solimoens to the south-

eastern or lower end of the large wooded island of Baria, which

here divides the river into two great channels. We then paddled

across to Shimuni, which lies in the middle of the northeasterly

channel, reaching the commencement of the praia an hour before

sunset. The island proper is about three miles long and half a

mile broad: the forest with which it is covered rises to an

immense and uniform height, and presents all round a compact,

impervious front. Here and there a singular tree, called Pao

mulatto (mulatto wood), with polished dark-green trunk, rose

conspicuously among the mass of vegetation. The sandbank, which

lies at the upper end of the island, extends several miles and

presents an irregular, and in some parts, strongly-waved surface,

with deep hollows and ridges. When upon it, one feels as though

treading an almost boundless field of sand, for towards the

southeast, where no forest line terminates the view, the white,

rolling plain stretches away to the horizon. The north-easterly

channel of the river lying between the sands and the further

shore of the river is at least two miles in breadth; the middle

one, between the two islands, Shimuni and Baria, is not much less

than a mile.

We found the two sentinels lodged in a corner of the praia, where

it commences at the foot of the towering forest wall of the

island, having built for themselves a little rancho with poles

and palm-leaves. Great precautions are obliged to be taken to

avoid disturbing the sensitive turtles, who, previous to crawling

ashore to lay, assemble in great shoals off the sandbank. The

men, during this time, take care not to show themselves and warn

off any fishermen who wishes to pass near the place. Their fires

are made in a deep hollow near the borders of the forest, so that

the smoke may not be visible. The passage of a boat through the

shallow waters where the animals are congregated, or the sight of

a man or a fire on the sandbank, would prevent the turtles from

leaving the water that night to lay their eggs, and if the causes

of alarm were repeated once or twice, they would forsake the

praia for some other quieter place. Soon after we arrived, our

men were sent with the net to catch a supply of fish for supper.

In half an hour, four or five large basketsful of Acari were

brought in. The sun set soon after our meal was cooked; we were

then obliged to extinguish the fire and remove our supper

materials to the sleeping ground, a spit of sand about a mile

off-- this course being necessary on account of the mosquitoes

which swarm at night on the borders of the forest.

One of the sentinels was a taciturn, morose-looking, but sober

and honest Indian, named Daniel; the other was a noted character

of Ega, a little wiry Mameluco, named Carepira (Fish-hawk)--

known for his waggery, propensity for strong drink, and

indebtedness to Ega traders. Both were intrepid canoemen and

huntsmen, and both perfectly at home anywhere in these fearful

wastes of forest and water. Carepira had his son with him-- a

quiet little lad of about nine years of age. These men in a few

minutes constructed a small shed with four upright poles and

leaves of the arrow-grass, under which Cardozo and I slung our

hammocks. We did not go to sleep, however, until after midnight--

for when supper was over, we lay about on the sand with a flask

of rum in our midst and whiled away the still hours in listening

to Carepira's stories.

I rose from my hammock by daylight, shivering with cold; a praia,

on account of the great radiation of heat in the night from the

sand, being towards the dawn the coldest place that can be found

in this climate. Cardozo and the men were already up watching the

turtles. The sentinels had erected for this purpose a stage about

fifty feet high, on a tall tree near their station, the ascent to

which was by a roughly-made ladder of woody lianas. They are

enabled, by observing the turtles from this watchtower, to

ascertain the date of successive deposits of eggs, and thus guide

the commandante in fixing the time for the general invitation to

the Ega people. The turtles lay their eggs by night, leaving the

water when nothing disturbs them, in vast crowds, and crawling to

the central and highest part of the praia. These places are, of

course, the last to go under water when, in unusually wet

seasons, the river rises before the eggs are hatched by the heat

of the sand. One could almost believe from this that the animals

used forethought in choosing a place; but it is simply one of

those many instances in animals where unconscious habit has the

same result as conscious prevision. The hours between midnight

and dawn are the busiest. The turtles excavate with their broad,

webbed paws, deep holes in the fine sand-- the first corner, in

each case, making a pit about three feet deep, laying its eggs

(about 120 in number) and covering them with sand; the next

making its deposit at the top of that of its predecessor, and so

on until every pit is full. The whole body of turtles frequenting

a praia does not finish laying in less than fourteen or fifteen

days, even when there is no interruption. When all have done, the

area (called by the Brazilians taboleiro) over which they have

excavated is distinguishable from the rest of the praia only by

signs of the sand having been a little disturbed.

On rising, I went to join my friends. Few recollections of my

Amazonian rambles are more vivid and agreeable than that of my

walk over the white sea of sand on this cool morning. The sky was

cloudless; the just-risen sun was hidden behind the dark mass of

woods on Shimuni, but the long line of forest to the west, on

Baria, with its plumy decorations of palms, was lighted up with

his yellow, horizontal rays. A faint chorus of singing birds

reached the ears from across the water, and flocks of gulls and

plovers were drying plaintively over the swelling banks of the

praia, where their eggs lay in nests made in little hollows of

the sand. Tracks of stray turtles were visible on the smooth

white surface of the praia. The animals which thus wander from

the main body are lawful prizes of the sentinels; they had caught

in this way two before sunrise, one of which we had for dinner.

In my walk I disturbed several pairs of the chocolate and drab-

coloured wild-goose (Anser jubatus) which set off to run along

the edge of the water. The enjoyment one feels in rambling over

these free, open spaces, is no doubt enhanced by the novelty of

the scene, the change being very great from the monotonous

landscape of forest which everywhere else presents itself.

On arriving at the edge of the forest I mounted the sentinel's

stage, just in time to see the turtles retreating to the water on

the opposite side of the sand-bank, after having laid their eggs.

The sight was well worth the trouble of ascending the shaky

ladder. They were about a mile off, but the surface of the sands

was blackened with the multitudes which were waddling towards the

river; the margin of the praia was rather steep, and they all

seemed to tumble head first down the declivity into the water.

I spent the morning of the 27th collecting insects in the woods

of Shimuni; and assisted my friend in the afternoon to beat a

large pool for Tracajas-- Cardozo wishing to obtain a supply for

his table at home. The pool was nearly a mile long, and lay on

one side of the island between the forest and the sand-bank. The

sands are heaped up very curiously around the margins of these

isolated sheets of water; in the present case they formed a

steeply-inclined bank, from five to eight feet in height. What

may be the cause of this formation I cannot imagine. The pools

always contain a quantity of imprisoned fish, turtles, Tracajas,

and Aiyussas. [Specimens of this species of turtle are named in

the British Museum collection, Podocnemis expansa.] The turtles

and Aiyussas crawl out voluntarily in the course of a few days,

and escape to the main river, but the Tracajas remain and become

an easy prey to the natives. The ordinary mode of obtaining them

is to whip the water in every part with rods for several hours

during the day; this treatment having the effect of driving the

animals out. They wait, however, until the night following the

beating before making their exit. Our Indians were occupied for

many hours in this work, and when night came they and the

sentinels were placed at intervals along the edge of the water to

be ready to capture the runaways. Cardozo and I, after supper,

went and took our station at one end of the pool.

We did not succeed, after all our trouble, in getting many

Tracajas. This was partly owing to the intense darkness of the

night, and partly, doubtless, to the sentinels having already

nearly exhausted the pool, notwithstanding their declarations to

the contrary. In waiting for the animals, it was necessary to

keep silence-- not a pleasant way of passing the night...

speaking only in whispers, and being without fire in a place

liable to be visited by a prowling jaguar. Cardozo and I sat on a

sandy slope with our loaded guns by our side, but it was so dark

we could scarcely see each other. Towards midnight a storm began

to gather around us. The faint wind which had breathed from over

the water since the sun went down, ceased. thick clouds piled

themselves up, until every star was obscured, and gleams of

watery lightning began to play in the midst of the black masses.

I hinted to Cardozo that I thought we had now had enough of

watching, and suggested a cigarette. Just then a quick pattering

movement was heard on the sands, and grasping our guns, we both

started to our feet. Whatever it might have been it seemed to

pass by, and a few moments afterwards a dark body appeared to be

moving in another direction on the opposite slope of the sandy

ravine where we lay. We prepared to fire, but luckily took the

precaution of first shouting "Quem vai la?" (Who goes there?) It

turned out to be the taciturn sentinel, Daniel, who asked us

mildly whether we had heard a "raposa" pass our way. The raposa

is a kind of wild dog, with very long tapering muzzle, and black

and white speckled hair. Daniel could distinguish all kinds of

animals in the dark by their footsteps. It now began to thunder,

and our position was getting very uncomfortable. Daniel had not

seen anything of the other Indians, and thought it was useless

waiting any longer for Tracajas; we therefore sent him to call in

the whole party, and made off ourselves, as quickly as we could,

for the canoe. The rest of the night was passed most miserably;

as indeed were very many of my nights on the Solimoens. A furious

squall burst upon us; the wind blew away the cloths and mats we

had fixed up at the ends of the arched awning of the canoe to

shelter ourselves, and the rain beat right through our sleeping-

place. There we lay, Cardozo and I, huddled together, and wet

through, waiting for the morning.

A cup of strong and hot coffee put us to rights at sunrise, but

the rain was still coming down, having changed to a steady

drizzle. Our men were all returned from the pool, having taken

only four Tracajas. The business which had brought Cardozo hither

being now finished, we set out to return to Ega, leaving the

sentinels once more to their solitude on the sands. Our return

route was by the rarely frequented north-easterly channel of the

Solimoens, through which flows part of the waters of its great

tributary stream, the Japura. We travelled for five hours along

the desolate, broken, timber-strewn shore of Baria. The channel

is of immense breadth, the opposite coast being visible only as a

long, low line of forest. At three o'clock in the afternoon we

doubled the upper end of the island, and then crossed towards the

mouth of the Teffe by a broad transverse channel running between

Baria and another island called Quanaru. There is a small sand-

bank at the north-westerly point of Baria, called Jacare; we

stayed here to dine and afterwards fished with the net. A fine

rain was still falling, and we had capital sport-- in three hauls

taking more fish than our canoe would conveniently hold. They

were of two kinds only, the Surubim and the Piraepieua (species

of Pimelodus), very handsome fishes, four feet in length, with

flat spoon-shaped heads, and prettily-spotted and striped skins.

On our way from Jacare to the mouth of the Teffe we had a little

adventure with a black tiger or jaguar. We were paddling rapidly

past a long beach of dried mud, when the Indians became suddenly

excited, shouting "Ecui Jauarete; Jauaripixuna!" (Behold the

jaguar, the black jaguar!) Looking ahead we saw the animal

quietly drinking at the water's edge. Cardozo ordered the

steersman at once to put us ashore. By the time we were landed

the tiger had seen us, and was retracing his steps towards the

forest. On the spur of the moment, and without thinking of what

we were doing, we took our guns (mine was a double-barrel, with

one charge of B B and one of dust-shot) and gave chase. The

animal increased his speed, and reaching the forest border, dived

into the dense mass of broad-leaved grass which formed its

frontage. We peeped through the gap he had made, but, our courage

being by this time cooled, we did not think it wise to go into

the thicket after him. The black tiger appears to be more

abundant than the spotted form of jaguar in the neighbourhood of

Ega. The most certain method of finding it is to hunt assisted by

a string of Indians shouting and driving the game before them in

the narrow restingas or strips of dry land in the forest, which

are isolated by the flooding of their neighbourhood in the wet

season. We reached Ega by eight o'clock that night.

On the 6th of October we left Ega on a second excursion; the

principal object of Cardozo being, this time, to search certain

pools in the forest for young turtles. The exact situation of

these hidden sheets of water is known only to a few practised

huntsmen; we took one of these men with us from Ega, a Mameluco

named Pedro, and on our way called at Shimuni for Daniel to serve

as an additional guide. We started from the praia at sunrise on

the 7th in two canoes containing twenty-three persons, nineteen

of whom were Indians. The morning was cloudy and cool, and a

fresh wind blew from down river, against which we had to struggle

with all the force of our paddles, aided by the current; the

boats were tossed about most disagreeably, and shipped a great

deal of water. On passing the lower end of Shimuni, a long reach

of the river was before us, undivided by islands-- a magnificent

expanse of water stretching away to the southeast. The country on

the left bank is not, however, terra firma, but a portion of the

alluvial land which forms the extensive and complex delta region

of the Japura. It is flooded every year at the time of high

water, and is traversed by many narrow and deep channels which

serve as outlets to the Japura, or at least, are connected with

that river by means of the interior water-system of the Cupiyo.

This inhospitable tract of country extends for several hundred

miles, and contains in its midst an endless number of pools and

lakes tenanted by multitudes of turtles, fishes, alligators, and

water serpents. Our destination was a point on this coast

situated about twenty miles below Shimuni, and a short distance

from the mouth of the Anana, one of the channels just alluded to

as connected with the Japura. After travelling for three hours in

midstream we steered for the land, and brought to under a

steeply-inclined bank of crumbly earth, shaped into a succession

of steps or terraces, marking the various halts which the waters

of the river make in the course of subsidence. The coast line was

nearly straight for many miles, and the bank averaged about

thirty feet in height above the present level of the river: at

the top rose the unbroken hedge of forest. No one could have

divined that pools of water existed on that elevated land. A

narrow level space extended at the foot of the bank. On landing

the first business was to get breakfast. While a couple of Indian

lads were employed in making the fire, roasting the fish, and

boiling the coffee, the rest of the party mounted the bank, and

with their long hunting knives commenced cutting a path through

the forest; the pool, called the Aningal, being about half a mile

distant. After breakfast, a great number of short poles were cut

and were laid crosswise on the path, and then three light

montarias which we had brought with us were dragged up the bank

by lianas, and rolled away to be embarked on the pool. A large

net, seventy yards in length, was then disembarked and carried to

the place. The work was done very speedily, and when Cardozo and

I went to the spot at eleven o'clock, we found some of the older

Indians, including Pedro and Daniel, had begun their sport. They

were mounted on little stages called moutas, made of poles and

cross-pieces of wood secured with lianas, and were shooting the

turtles as they came near the surface, with bows and arrows. The

Indians seemed to think that netting the animals, as Cardozo

proposed doing, was not lawful sport, and wished first to have an

hour or two's old-fashioned practice with their weapons.

The pool covered an area of about four or five acres, and was

closely hemmed in by the forest, which in picturesque variety and

grouping of trees and foliage exceeded almost everything I had

yet witnessed. The margins for some distance were swampy, and

covered with large tufts of a fine grass called Matupa. These

tufts in many places were overrun with ferns, and exterior to

them a crowded row of arborescent arums, growing to a height of

fifteen or twenty feet, formed a green palisade. Around the whole

stood the taller forest trees; palmate-leaved Cecropiae slender

Assai palms, thirty feet high, with their thin feathery heads

crowning the gently-curving, smooth stems; small fan-leaved

palms; and as a background to all these airy shapes, lay the

voluminous masses of ordinary forest trees, with garlands,

festoons, and streamers of leafy climbers hanging from their

branches. The pool was nowhere more than five feet deep, one foot

of which was not water, but extremely fine and soft mud.

Cardozo and I spent an hour paddling about. I was astonished at

the skill which the Indians display in shooting turtles. They did

not wait for their coming to the surface to breathe, but watched

for the slight movements in the water, which revealed their

presence underneath. These little tracks on the water are called

the Siriri; the instant one was perceived an arrow flew from the

bow of the nearest man, and never failed to pierce the shell of

the submerged animal. When the turtle was very distant, of course

the aim had to be taken at a considerable elevation, but the

marksmen preferred a longish range, because the arrow then fell

more perpendicularly on the shell and entered it more deeply.

The arrow used in turtle shooting has a strong lancet-shaped

steel point, fitted into a peg which enters the tip of the shaft.

The peg is secured to the shaft by twine made of the fibres of

pineapple leaves, the twine being some thirty or forty yards in

length, and neatly wound round the body of the arrow. When the

missile enters the shell, the peg drops out, and the pierced

animal descends with it towards the bottom, leaving the shaft

floating on the surface. This being done, the sportsman paddles

in his montaria to the place, and gently draws the animal by the

twine, humouring it by giving it the rein when it plunges, until

it is brought again near the surface, when he strikes it with a

second arrow. With the increased hold given by the two cords he

has then no difficulty in landing his game.

By mid-day the men had shot about a score of nearly full-grown

turtles. Cardozo then gave orders to spread the net. The spongy,

swampy nature of the banks made it impossible to work the net so

as to draw the booty ashore; another method was therefore

adopted. The net was taken by two Indians and extended in a curve

at one extremity of the oval-shaped pool, holding it when they

had done so by the perpendicular rods fixed at each end; its

breadth was about equal to the depth of the water, its shotted

side therefore rested on the bottom, while the floats buoyed it

up on the surface, so that the whole, when the ends were brought

together, would form a complete trap. The rest of the party then

spread themselves around the swamp at the opposite end of the

pool and began to beat, with stout poles, the thick tufts of

Matupa, in order to drive the turtles towards the middle. This

was continued for an hour or more, the beaters gradually drawing

nearer to each other, and driving the host of animals before

them; the number of little snouts constantly popping above the

surface of the water showing that all was going on well. When

they neared the net the men moved more quickly, shouting and

beating with great vigour. The ends of the net were then seized

by several strong hands and dragged suddenly forwards, bringing

them at the same time together, so as to enclose all the booty in

a circle. Every man now leapt into the enclosure, the boats were

brought up, and the turtles easily captured by the hand and

tossed into them. I jumped in along with the rest, although I had

just before made the discovery that the pool abounded in ugly,

red, four-angled leeches, having seen several of these delectable

animals, which sometimes fasten on the legs of fishermen,

although they, did not, on this day, trouble us, working their

way through cracks in the bottom of our montaria. Cardozo, who

remained with the boats, could not turn the animals on their

backs fast enough, so that a great many clambered out and got

free again. However, three boat-loads, or about eighty, were

secured in about twenty minutes. They were then taken ashore, and

each one secured by the men tying the legs with thongs of bast.

When the canoes had been twice filled, we desisted, after a very

hard day's work. Nearly all the animals were young ones, chiefly,

according to the statement of Pedro, from three to ten years of

age; they varied from six to eighteen inches in length, and were

very fat. Cardozo and I lived almost exclusively on them for

several months afterwards. Roasted in the shell they form a most

appetising dish. These younger turtles never migrate with their

elders on the sinking of the waters, but remain in the tepid

pools, fattening on fallen fruits, and, according to the natives,

on the fine nutritious mud. We captured a few full-grown

motherturtles, which were known at once by the horny skin of

their breast-plates being worn, telling of their having crawled

on the sands to lay eggs the previous year. They had evidently

made a mistake in not leaving the pool at the proper time, for

they were full of eggs, which, we were told, they would, before

the season was over, scatter in despair over the swamp. We also

found several male turtles, or Capitaris, as they are called by

the natives. These are immensely less numerous than the females,

and are distinguishable by their much smaller size, more circular

shape, and the greater length and thickness of their tails. Their

flesh is considered unwholesome, especially to sick people having

external signs of inflammation. All diseases in these parts, as

well as their remedies and all articles of food, are classed by

the inhabitants as "hot" and "cold," and the meat of the Capitari

is settled by unanimous consent as belonging to the "hot" list.

We dined on the banks of the river a little before sunset. The

mosquitoes then began to be troublesome, and finding it would be

impossible to sleep here, we all embarked and crossed the river

to a sand-bank, about three miles distant, where we passed the

night. Cardozo and I slept in our hammocks slung between upright

poles, the rest stretching themselves on the sand round a large

fire. We lay awake conversing until past midnight. It was a real

pleasure to listen to the stories told by one of the older men,

they were given with so much spirit. The tales always related to

struggles with some intractable animal-jaguar, manatee, or

alligator. Many interjections and expressive gestures were used,

and at the end came a sudden "Pa! terra!" when the animal was

vanquished by a shot or a blow. Many mysterious tales were

recounted about the Bouto, as the large Dolphin of the Amazons is

called. One of them was to the effect that a Bouto once had the

habit of assuming the shape of a beautiful woman, with hair

hanging loose to her heels, and walking ashore at night in the

streets of Ega, to entice the young men down to the water. If any

one was so much smitten as to follow her to the waterside, she

grasped her victim round the waist and plunged beneath the waves

with a triumphant cry. No animal in the Amazons region is the

subject of so many fables as the Bouto; but it is probable these

did not originate with the Indians, but with the Portuguese

colonists. It was several years before I could induce a fisherman

to harpoon Dolphins for me as specimens, for no one ever kills

these animals voluntarily, although their fat is known to yield

an excellent oil for lamps. The superstitious people believe that

blindness would result from the use of this oil in lamps. I

succeeded at length with Carepira, by offering him a high reward

when his finances were at a very low point, but he repented of

his deed ever afterwards, declaring that his luck had forsaken

him from that day.

The next morning we again beat the pool. Although we had proof of

there being a great number of turtles yet remaining, we had very

poor success. The old Indians told us it would be so, for the

turtles were "ladino" (cunning), and would take no notice of the

beating a second day. When the net was formed into a circle, and

the men had jumped in, an alligator was found to be inclosed. No

one was alarmed, the only fear expressed being that the

imprisoned beast would tear the net. First one shouted, "I have

touched his head;" then another, "he has scratched my leg;" one

of the men, a lanky Miranha, was thrown off his balance, and then

there was no end to the laughter and shouting. At last a youth of

about fourteen years of age, on my calling to him from the bank

to do so, seized the reptile by the tail, and held him tightly

until, a little resistance being overcome, he was able to bring

it ashore. The net was opened, and the boy slowly dragged the

dangerous but cowardly beast to land through the muddy water, a

distance of about a hundred yards. Meantime, I had cut a strong

pole from a tree, and as soon as the alligator was drawn to solid

ground, gave him a smart rap with it on the crown of his head,

which killed him instantly. It was a good-sized individual, the

jaws being considerably more than a foot long, and fully capable

of snapping a man's leg in twain. The species was the large

cayman, the Jacareuassu of the Amazonian Indians (Jacare nigra).

On the third day, we sent our men in the boats to net turtles in

a larger pool about five miles further down the river, and on the

fourth, returned to Ega.

It will be well to mention here a few circumstances relative to

the large Cayman, which, with the incident just narrated, afford

illustrations of the cunning, cowardice, and ferocity of this

reptile.

I have hitherto had but few occasions of mentioning alligators,

although they exist by myriads in the waters of the Upper

Amazons. Many different species are spoken of by the natives. I

saw only three, and of these two only are common: one, the

Jacare-tinga, a small kind (five feet long when full grown),

having a long slender muzzle and a black-banded tail; the other,

the Jacare-uassu, to which these remarks more especially relate

and the third the Jacare-curua, mentioned in a former chapter.

The Jacare-uassu, or large Cayman, grows to a length of eighteen

or twenty feet, and attains an enormous bulk. Like the turtles,

the alligator has its annual migrations, for it retreats to the

interior pools and flooded forests in the wet season, and

descends to the main river in the dry season. During the months

of high water, therefore, scarcely a single individual is to be

seen in the main river. In the middle part of the Lower Amazons,

about Obydos and Villa Nova, where many of the lakes with their

channels of communication with the trunk stream dry up in the

fine months, the alligator buries itself in the mud and becomes

dormant, sleeping till the rainy season returns. On the Upper

Amazons, where the dry season is never excessive, it has not this

habit, but is lively all the year round. It is scarcely

exaggerating to say that the waters of the Solimoens are as well

stocked with large alligators in the dry season, as a ditch in

England is in summer with tadpoles. During a journey of five days

which I once made in the Upper Amazons steamer, in November,

alligators were seen along the coast almost every step of the

way, and the passengers amused themselves, from morning till

night, by firing at them with rifle and ball. They were very

numerous in the still bays, where the huddled crowds jostled

together, to the great rattling of their coats of mail, as the

steamer passed.

The natives at once despise and fear the great cayman. I once

spent a month at Caicara, a small village of semi-civilised

Indians, about twenty miles to the west of Ega. My entertainer,

the only white in the place, and one of my best and most constant

friends, Senor Innocencio Alves Faria, one day proposed a half-

day's fishing with net in the lake--the expanded bed of the small

river on which the village is situated. We set out in an open

boat with six Indians and two of Innocencio's children. The water

had sunk so low that the net had to be taken out into the middle

by the Indians, whence at the first draught, two medium-sized

alligators were brought to land. They were disengaged from the

net and allowed, with the coolest unconcern, to return to the

water, although the two children were playing in it not many

yards off. We continued fishing, Innocencio and I lending a

helping hand, and each time drew a number of the reptiles of

different ages and sizes, some of them Jacare-tingas; the lake,

in fact, swarmed with alligators. After taking a very large

quantity of fish, we prepared to return, and the Indians, at my

suggestion, secured one of the alligators with the view of

letting it loose amongst the swarms of dogs in the village. An

individual was selected about eight feet long-- one man holding

his head and another his tail, whilst a third took a few lengths

of a flexible liana, and deliberately bound the jaws and the

legs. Thus secured, the beast was laid across the benches of the

boat on which we sat during the hour and a half's journey to the

settlement. We were rather crowded, but our amiable passenger

gave us no trouble during the transit. On reaching the village,

we took the animal into the middle of the green, in front of the

church, where the dogs were congregated, and there gave him his

liberty, two of us arming ourselves with long poles to intercept

him if he should make for the water, and the others exciting the

dogs. The alligator showed great terror, although the dogs could

not be made to advance, and made off at the top of its speed for

the water, waddling like a duck. We tried to keep him back with

the poles, but he became enraged, and seizing the end of the one

I held in his jaws, nearly wrenched it from my grasp. We were

obliged, at length, to kill him to prevent his escape.

These little incidents show the timidity or cowardice of the

alligator. He never attacks man when his intended victim is on

his guard; but he is cunning enough to know when this may be done

with impunity-- of this we had proof at Caicara, a few days

afterwards. The river had sunk to a very low point, so that the

port and bathing-place of the village now lay at the foot of a

long sloping bank, and a large cayman made his appearance in the

shallow and muddy water. We were all obliged to be very careful

in taking our bath; most of the people simply using a calabash,

pouring the water over themselves while standing on the brink. A

large trading canoe, belonging to a Barra merchant named Soares,

arrived at this time, and the Indian crew, as usual, spent the

first day or two after their coming into port in drunkenness and

debauchery ashore. One of the men, during the greatest heat of

the day, when almost everyone was enjoying his afternoon's nap,

took it into his head while in a tipsy state to go down alone to

bathe. He was seen only by the Juiz de Paz, a feeble old man who

was lying in his hammock in the open verandah at the rear of his

house on the top of the bank, and who shouted to the besotted

Indian to beware of the alligator. Before he could repeat his

warning, the man stumbled, and a pair of gaping jaws, appearing

suddenly above the surface, seized him round the waist and drew

him under the water. A cry of agony "Ai Jesus!" was the last sign

made by the wretched victim. The village was aroused: the young

men with praiseworthy readiness seized their harpoons and hurried

down to the bank; but, of course it was too late, a winding track

of blood on the surface of the water was all that could be seen.

They embarked, however, in montarias, determined upon vengeance;

the monster was traced, and when, after a short lapse of time, he

came up to breathe--one leg of the man sticking out from his

jaws--was despatched with bitter curses.

The last of these minor excursions which I shall narrate, was

made (again in company of Senor Cardozo, with the addition of his

housekeeper Senora Felippa) in the season when all the population

of the villages turns out to dig up turtle eggs, and revel on the

praias. Placards were posted on the church doors at Ega,

announcing that the excavation on Shimuni would commence on the

17th of October, and on Catua, sixty miles below Shimuni, on the

25th. We set out on the 16th, and passed on the road, in our

well-manned igarite, a large number of people-- men, women, and

children in canoes of all sizes-- wending their way as if to a

great holiday gathering. By the morning of the 17th, some 400

persons were assembled on the borders of the sand-bank; each

family having erected a rude temporary shed of poles and palm

leaves to protect themselves from the sun and rain. Large copper

kettles to prepare the oil, and hundreds of red earthenware jars,

were scattered about on the sand.

The excavation of the taboleiro, collecting the eggs and

purifying the oil, occupied four days. All was done on a system

established by the old Portuguese governors, probably more than a

century ago. The commandante first took down the names of all the

masters of households, with the number of persons each intended

to employ in digging; he then exacted a payment of 140 reis

(about fourpence) a head, towards defraying the expense of

sentinels. The whole were then allowed to go to the taboleiro.

They arranged themselves around the circle, each person armed

with a paddle to be used as a spade, and then all began

simultaneously to dig on a signal being given--the roll of drums-

-by order of the commandante. It was an animating sight to behold

the wide circle of rival diggers throwing up clouds of sand in

their energetic labours, and working gradually towards the centre

of the ring. A little rest was taken during the great heat of

midday, and in the evening the eggs were carried to the huts in

baskets. By the end of the second day, the taboleiro was

exhausted; large mounds of eggs, some of them four to five feet

in height, were then seen by the side of each hut, the produce of

the labours of the family.

In the hurry of digging, some of the deeper nests are passed

over; to find these out, the people go about provided with a long

steel or wooden probe, the presence of the eggs being

discoverable by the ease with which the spit enters the sand.

When no more eggs are to be found, the mashing process begins.

The egg, it may be mentioned, has a flexible or leathery shell;

it is quite round, and somewhat larger than a hen's egg. The

whole heap is thrown into an empty canoe and mashed with wooden

prongs; but sometimes naked Indians and children jump into the

mass and tread it down, besmearing themselves with yolk and

making about as filthy a scene as can well be imagined. This

being finished, water is poured into the canoe, and the fatty

mess then left for a few hours to be heated by the sun, on which

the oil separates and rises to the surface. The floating oil is

afterwards skimmed off with long spoons, made by tying large

mussel-shells to the end of rods, and purified over the fire in

copper kettles.

The destruction of turtle eggs every year by these proceedings is

enormous. At least 6000 jars, holding each three gallons of the

oil, are exported annually from the Upper Amazons and the Madeira

to Para, where it is used for lighting, frying fish, and other

purposes. It may be fairly estimated that 2000 more jars-full are

consumed by the inhabitants of the villages on the river. Now, it

takes at least twelve basketsful of eggs, or about 6000 by the

wasteful process followed, to make one jar of oil. The total

number of eggs annually destroyed amounts, therefore, to

48,000,000. As each turtle lays about 120, it follows that the

yearly offspring Of 400,000 turtles is thus annihilated. A vast

number, nevertheless, remain undetected; and these would probably

be sufficient to keep the turtle population of these rivers up to

the mark, if the people did not follow the wasteful practice of

lying in wait for the newly-hatched young, and collecting them by

thousands for eating-- their tender flesh and the remains of yolk

in their entrails being considered a great delicacy. The chief

natural enemies of the turtle are vultures and alligators, which

devour the newly-hatched young as they descend in shoals to the

water. These must have destroyed an immensely greater number

before the European settlers began to appropriate the eggs than

they do now. It is almost doubtful if this natural persecution

did not act as effectively in checking the increase of the turtle

as the artificial destruction now does. If we are to believe the

tradition of the Indians, however, it had not this result; for

they say that formerly the waters teemed as thickly with turtles

as the air now does with mosquitoes. The universal opinion of the

settlers on the Upper Amazons is, that the turtle has very

greatly decreased in numbers, and is still annually decreasing.

We left Shimuni on the 20th with quite a flotilla of canoes, and

descended the river to Catua, an eleven hours' journey by paddle

and current. Catua is about six miles long, and almost entirely

encircled by its praia. The turtles had selected for their egg-

laying a part of the sand-bank which was elevated at least twenty

feet above the present level of the river; the animals, to reach

the place, must have crawled up a slope. As we approached the

island, numbers of the animals were seen coming to the surface to

breathe, in a small shoaly bay. Those who had light montarias

sped forward with bows and arrows to shoot them. Carepira was

foremost, having borrowed a small and very unsteady boat, of

Cardozo, and embarked in it with his little son. After bagging a

couple of turtles, and while hauling in a third, he overbalanced

himself; the canoe went over, and he with his child had to swim

for their lives in the midst of numerous alligators, about a mile

from the land. The old man had to sustain a heavy fire of jokes

from his companions for several days after this mishap. Such

accidents are only laughed at by this almost amphibious people.

The number of persons congregated on Catua was much greater than

on Shimuni, as the population of the banks of several

neighbouring lakes were here added. The line of huts and sheds

extended half a mile, and several large sailing vessels were

anchored at the place. The commandante was Senor Macedo, the

Indian blacksmith of Ega before mentioned, who maintained

excellent order during the fourteen days the process of

excavation and oil manufacture lasted. There were also many

primitive Indians here from the neighbouring rivers, among them a

family of Shumanas, good-tempered, harmless people from the Lower

Japura. All of them were tattooed around the mouth, the bluish

tint forming a border to the lips, and extending in a line on the

cheeks towards the ear on each side. They were not quite so

slender in figure as the Passes of Perdo-uassu's family; but

their features deviated quite as much as those of the Passes from

the ordinary Indian type. This was seen chiefly in the

comparatively small mouth, pointed chin, thin lips, and narrow,

high nose. One of the daughters, a young girl of about seventeen

years of age, was a real beauty. The colour of her skin

approached the light tanned shade of the Mameluco women; her

figure was almost faultless, and the blue mouth, instead of being

a disfigurement, gave quite a captivating finish to her

appearance. Her neck, wrists, and ankles were adorned with

strings of blue beads. She was, however, extremely bashful, never

venturing to look strangers in the face, and never quitting, for

many minutes together, the side of her father and mother. The

family had been shamefully swindled by some rascally trader on

another praia; and, on our arrival, came to lay their case before

Senor Cardozo, as the delegado of police of the district. The

mild way in which the old man, without a trace of anger, stated

his complaint in imperfect Tupi quite enlisted our sympathies in

his favour. But Cardozo could give him no redress; he invited the

family, however, to make their rancho near to ours, and in the

end gave them the highest price for the surplus oil which they

manufactured.

It was not all work at Catua; indeed there was rather more play

than work going on. The people make a kind of holiday of these

occasions. Every fine night parties of the younger people

assembled on the sands, and dancing and games were carried on for

hours together. But the requisite liveliness for these sports was

never got up without a good deal of preliminary rum-drinking. The

girls were so coy that the young men could not get sufficient

partners for the dances without first subscribing for a few

flagons of the needful cashaca. The coldness of the shy Indian

and Mameluco maidens never failed to give way after a little of

this strong drink, but it was astonishing what an immense deal

they could take of it in the course of an evening. Coyness is not

always a sign of innocence in these people, for most of the half-

caste women on the Upper Amazons lead a little career of

looseness before they marry and settle down for life; and it is

rather remarkable that the men do not seem to object much to

their brides having had a child or two by various fathers before

marriage. The women do not lose reputation unless they become

utterly depraved, but in that case they are condemned pretty

strongly by public opinion. Depravity is, however, rare, for all

require more or less to be wooed before they are won. I did not

see (although I mixed pretty freely with the young people) any

breach of propriety on the praias. The merry-makings were carried

on near the ranchos, where the more staid citizens of Ega,

husbands with their wives and young daughters, all smoking

gravely out of long pipes, sat in their hammocks and enjoyed the

fun. Towards midnight we often heard, in the intervals between

jokes and laughter, the hoarse roar of jaguars prowling about the

jungle in the middle of the praia. There were several guitar-

players among the young men, and one most persevering fiddler--

so there was no lack of music.

The favourite sport was the Pira-purasseya, or fish-dance, one of

the original games of the Indians, though now probably a little

modified. The young men and women, mingling together, formed a

ring, leaving one of their number in the middle, who represented

the fish. They then all marched round, Indian file, the musicians

mixed up with the rest, singing a monotonous but rather pretty

chorus, the words of which were invented (under a certain form)

by one of the party who acted as leader. This finished, all

joined hands, and questions were put to the one in the middle,

asking what kind of fish he or she might be. To these the

individual has to reply. The end of it all is that he makes a

rush at the ring, and if he succeeds in escaping, the person who

allowed him to do so has to take his place; the march and chorus

then recommences, and so the game goes on hour after hour. Tupi

was the language mostly used, but sometimes Portuguese was sung

and spoken. The details of the dance were often varied. Instead

of the names of fishes being called over by the person in the

middle, the name of some animal, flower, or other object was

given to every fresh occupier of the place. There was then good

scope for wit in the invention of nicknames, and peals of

laughter would often salute some particularly good hit. Thus a

very lanky young man was called the Magoary, or the grey stork; a

moist grey-eyed man with a profile comically suggestive of a fish

was christened Jaraki (a kind of fish), which was considered

quite a witty sally; a little Mameluco girl, with light-coloured

eyes and brown hair, got the gallant name of Rosa Blanca, or the

white rose; a young fellow who had recently singed his eye brows

by the explosion of fireworks, was dubbed Pedro queimado (burnt

Peter); in short every one got a nickname, and each time the

cognomen was introduced into the chorus as the circle marched

round.

Our rancho was a large one, and was erected in a line with the

others near the edge of the sand-bank which sloped rather

abruptly to the water. During the first week the people were all,

more or less, troubled by alligators. Some half-dozen full-grown

ones were in attendance off the praia, floating about on the

lazily-flowing, muddy water. The dryness of the weather had

increased since we had left Shimuni, the currents had slackened,

and the heat in the middle part of the day was almost

insupportable. But no one could descend to bathe without being

advanced upon by one or other of these hungry monsters. There was

much offal cast into the river, and this, of course, attracted

them to the place. One day I amused myself by taking a basketful

of fragments of meat beyond the line of ranchos, and drawing the

alligators towards me by feeding them. They behaved pretty much

as dogs do when fed-- catching the bones I threw them in their

huge jaws, and coming nearer and showing increased eagerness

after every morsel. The enormous gape of their mouths, with their

blood-red lining and long fringes of teeth, and the uncouth

shapes of their bodies, made a picture of unsurpassable ugliness.

I once or twice fired a heavy charge of shot at them, aiming at

the vulnerable part of their bodies, which is a small space

situated behind the eyes, but this had no other effect than to

make them give a hoarse grunt and shake themselves; they

immediately afterwards turned to receive another bone which I

threw to them.

Everyday these visitors became bolder; at length they reached a

pitch of impudence that was quite intolerable. Cardozo had a

poodle dog named Carlito, which some grateful traveller whom he

had befriended had sent him from Rio Janeiro. He took great pride

in this dog, keeping it well sheared, and preserving his coat as

white as soap and water could make it. We slept in our rancho in

hammocks slung between the outer posts; a large wood fire (fed

with a kind of wood abundant on the banks of the river, which

keeps alight all night) being made in the middle, by the side of

which slept Carlito on a little mat. Well, one night I was awoke

by a great uproar. It was caused by Cardozo hurling burning

firewood with loud curses at a huge cayman which had crawled up

the bank and passed beneath my hammock (being nearest the water)

towards the place where Carlito lay. The dog had raised the alarm

in time; the reptile backed out and tumbled down the bank to the

water, the sparks from the brands hurled at him flying from his

bony hide. To our great surprise the animal (we supposed it to be

the same individual) repeated his visit the very next night, this

time passing round to the other side of our shed. Cardozo was

awake, and threw a harpoon at him, but without doing him any

harm. After this it was thought necessary to make an effort to

check the alligators; a number of men were therefore persuaded to

sally forth in their montarias and devote a day to killing them.

The young men made several hunting excursions during the fourteen

days of our stay on Catua, and I, being associated with them in

all their pleasures, made generally one of the party. These were,

besides, the sole occasions on which I could add to my

collections, while on these barren sands. Only two of these trips

afforded incidents worth relating.

The first, which was made to the interior of the wooded island of

Catua, was not a very successful one. We were twelve in number,

all armed with guns and long hunting-knives. Long before sunrise,

my friends woke me up from my hammock, where I lay, as usual, in

the clothes worn during the day; and after taking each a cup-full

of cashaca and ginger (a very general practice in early morning

on the sand-banks), we commenced our walk. The waning moon still

lingered in the clear sky, and a profound stillness pervaded

sleeping camp, forest, and stream. Along the line of ranchos

glimmered the fires made by each party to dry turtle-eggs for

food, the eggs being spread on little wooden stages over the

smoke. The distance to the forest from our place of starting was

about two miles, being nearly the whole length of the sand-bank,

which was also a very broad one-- the highest part, where it was

covered with a thicket of dwarf willows, mimosas, and arrow

grass, lying near the ranchos. We loitered much on the way, and

the day dawned whilst we were yet on the road, the sand at this

early hour feeling quite cold to the naked feet. As soon as we

were able to distinguish things, the surface of the praia was

seen to be dotted with small black objects. These were newly-

hatched Aiyussa turtles, which were making their way in an

undeviating line to the water, at least a mile distant. The young

animal of this species is distinguishable from that of the large

turtle and the Tracaja, by the edges of the breast-plate being

raised on each side, so that in crawling it scores two parallel

lines on the sand. The mouths of these little creatures were full

of sand, a circumstance arising from their having to bite their

way through many inches of superincumbent sand to reach the

surface on emerging from the buried eggs. It was amusing to

observe how constantly they turned again in the direction of the

distant river, after being handled and set down on the sand with

their heads facing the opposite quarter. We saw also several

skeletons of the large cayman (some with the horny and bony hide

of the animal nearly perfect) embedded in the sand; they reminded

me of the remains of Ichthyosauri fossilised in beds of lias,

with the difference of being buried in fine sand instead of in

blue mud. I marked the place of one which had a well-preserved

skull, and the next day returned to secure it. The specimen is

now in the British Museum collection. There were also many

footmarks of jaguars on the sand.

We entered the forest, as the sun peeped over the tree-tops far

away down river. The party soon after divided, I keeping with a

section which was led by Bento, the Ega carpenter, a capital

woodsman. After a short walk we struck the banks of a beautiful

little lake, having grassy margins and clear dark water, on the

surface of which floated thick beds of water-lilies. We then

crossed a muddy creek or watercourse that entered the lake, and

then found ourselves on a restinga, or tongue of land between two

waters. By keeping in sight of one or the other of these, there

was no danger of our losing our way-- all other precautions were

therefore unnecessary. The forest was tolerably clear of

underwood, and consequently, easy to walk through. We had not

gone far before a soft, long-drawn whistle was heard aloft in the

trees, betraying the presence of Mutums (Curassow birds). The

crowns of the trees, a hundred feet or more over our heads, were

so closely interwoven that it was difficult to distinguish the

birds-- the practised eye of Bento, however, made them out, and a

fine male was shot from the flock, the rest flying away and

alighting at no great distance. The species was the one of which

the male has a round red ball on its beak (Crax globicera). The

pursuit of the others led us a great distance, straight towards

the interior of the island, in which direction we marched for

three hours, having the lake always on our right.

Arriving at length at the head of the lake, Bento struck off to

the left across the restinga, and we then soon came upon a

treeless space choked up with tall grass, which appeared to be

the dried-up bed of another lake. Our leader was obliged to climb

a tree to ascertain our position, and found that the clear space

was part of the creek, whose mouth we had crossed lower down. The

banks were clothed with low trees, nearly all of one species, a

kind of araca (Psidium), and the ground was carpeted with a

slender delicate grass, now in flower. A great number of crimson

and vermilion-coloured butterflies (Catagramma Peristera, male

and female) were settled on the smooth, white trunks of these

trees. I had also here the great pleasure of seeing for the first

time, the rare and curious Umbrella Bird (Cephalopterus ornatus),

a species which resembles in size, colour, and appearance our

common crow, but is decorated with a crest of long, curved, hairy

feathers having long bare quills, which, when raised, spread

themselves out in the form of a fringed sunshade over the head. A

strange ornament, like a pelerine, is also suspended from the

neck, formed by a thick pad of glossy steel-blue feathers, which

grow on a long fleshy lobe or excrescence. This lobe is connected

(as I found on skinning specimens) with an unusual development of

the trachea and vocal organs, to which the bird doubtless owes

its singularly deep, loud, and long-sustained fluty note. The

Indian name of this strange creature is Uira-mimbeu, or fife-

bird, [Mimbeu is the Indian name for a rude kind of pan-pipes

used by the Caishanas and other tribes.] in allusion to the tone

of its voice. We had the good luck, after remaining quiet a short

time, to hear its performance. It drew itself up on its perch,

spread widely the umbrella-formed crest, dilated and waved its

glossy breast-lappet, and then, in giving vent to its loud piping

note, bowed its head slowly forwards. We obtained a pair, male

and female; the female has only the rudiments of the crest and

lappet, and is duller-coloured altogether than the male. The

range of this bird appears to be quite confined to the plains of

the Upper Amazons (especially the Ygapo forests), not having been

found to the east of the Rio Negro.

Bento and our other friends being disappointed in finding no more

Curassows, or indeed any other species of game, now resolved to

turn back. On reaching the edge of the forest, we sat down and

ate our dinners under the shade-- each man having brought a

little bag containing a few handsfull of farinha, and a piece of

fried fish or roast turtle. We expected our companions of the

other division to join us at midday, but after waiting till past

one o'clock without seeing anything of them (in fact, they had

returned to the huts an hour or two previously), we struck off

across the praia towards the encampment. An obstacle here

presented itself on which we had not counted. The sun had shone

all day through a cloudless sky untempered by a breath of wind,

and the sands had become heated by it to a degree that rendered

walking over them with our bare feet impossible. The most

hardened footsoles of the party could not endure the burning

soil. We made several attempts; we tried running, having wrapped

the cool leaves of Heliconiae round our feet, but in no way could

we step forward many yards. There was no means of getting back to

our friends before night, except going round the praia, a circuit

of about four miles, and walking through the water or on the

moist sand. To get to the waterside from the place where we then

stood was not difficult, as a thick bed of a flowering shrub,

called tintarana, an infusion of the leaves of which is used to

dye black, lay on that side of the sand-bank. Footsore and

wearied, burthened with our guns, and walking for miles through

the tepid shallow water under the brain-scorching vertical sun,

we had, as may be imagined, anything but a pleasant time of it. I

did not, however, feel any inconvenience afterwards. Everyone

enjoys the most lusty health while living this free and wild life

on the rivers.

The other hunting trip which I have alluded to was undertaken in

company with three friendly young half-castes. Two of them were

brothers, namely, Joao (John) and Zephyrino Jabuti: Jabuti, or

tortoise, being a nickname which their father had earned for his

slow gait, and which, as is usual in this country, had descended

as the surname of the family. The other was Jose Frazao, a nephew

of Senor Chrysostomo, of Ega, an active, clever, and manly young

fellow, whom I much esteemed. He was almost a white-- his father

being a Portuguese and his mother a Mameluca. We were accompanied

by an Indian named Lino, and a Mulatto boy, whose office was to

carry our game.

Our proposed hunting-ground on this occasion lay across the

water, about fifteen miles distant. We set out in a small

montaria, at four o'clock in the morning, again leaving the

encampment asleep, and travelled at a good pace up the northern

channel of the Solimoens, or that lying between the island Catua

and the left bank of the river. The northern shore of the island

had a broad sandy beach reaching to its western extremity. We

gained our destination a little after daybreak; this was the

banks of the Carapanatuba, [Meaning, in Tupi, the river of many

mosquitoes: from carapana, mosquito, and ituba, many.] a channel

some 150 yards in width, which, like the Anana already mentioned,

communicates with the Cupiyo. To reach this we had to cross the

river, here nearly two miles wide. Just as day dawned we saw a

Cayman seize a large fish, a Tambaki, near the surface; the

reptile seemed to have a difficulty in securing its prey, for it

reared itself above the water, tossing the fish in its jaws and

making a tremendous commotion. I was much struck also by the

singular appearance presented by certain diving birds having very

long and snaky necks (the Plotus Anhinga). Occasionally a long

serpentine form would suddenly wriggle itself to a height of a

foot and a half above the glassy surface of the water, producing

such a deceptive imitation of a snake that at first I had some

difficulty in believing it to be the neck of a bird; it did not

remain long in view, but soon plunged again beneath the stream.

We ran ashore in a most lonely and gloomy place, on a low sand-

bank covered with bushes, secured the montaria to a tree, and

then, after making a very sparing breakfast on fried fish and

mandioca meal, rolled up our trousers and plunged into the thick

forest, which here, as everywhere else, rose like a lofty wall of

foliage from the narrow strip of beach. We made straight for the

heart of the land, John Jabuti leading, and breaking off at every

few steps a branch of the lower trees, so that we might recognise

the path on our return. The district was quite new to all my

companions, and being on a coast almost totally uninhabited by

human beings for some 300 miles, to lose our way would have been

to perish helplessly. I did not think at the time of the risk we

ran of having our canoe stolen by passing Indians, unguarded

montarias being never safe even in the ports of the villages,

Indians apparently considering them common property, and stealing

them without any compunction. No misgivings clouded the lightness

of heart with which we trod forward in warm anticipation of a

good day's sport.

The tract of forest through which we passed was Ygapo, but the

higher parts of the land formed areas which went only a very few

inches under water in the flood season. It consisted of a most

bewildering diversity of grand and beautiful trees, draped,

festooned, corded, matted, and ribboned with climbing plants,

woody and succulent, in endless variety. The most prevalent palm

was the tall Astryocaryum Jauari, whose fallen spines made it

necessary to pick our way carefully over the ground, as we were

all barefooted. There was not much green underwood, except in

places where Bamboos grew; these formed impenetrable thickets of

plumy foliage and thorny, jointed stems, which always compelled

us to make a circuit to avoid them. The earth elsewhere was

encumbered with rotting fruits, gigantic bean-pods, leaves,

limbs, and trunks of trees; fixing the impression of its being

the cemetery as well as the birthplace of the great world of

vegetation overhead. Some of the trees were of prodigious height.

We passed many specimens of the Moratinga, whose cylindrical

trunks, I dare not say how many feet in circumference, towered up

and were lost amidst the crowns of the lower trees, their lower

branches, in some cases, being hidden from our view. Another very

large and remarkable tree was the Assacu (Sapium aucuparium). A

traveller on the Amazons, mingling with the people, is sure to

hear much of the poisonous qualities of the juices of this tree.

Its bark exudes, when hacked with a knife, a milky sap, which is

not only a fatal poison when taken internally, but is said to

cause incurable sores if simply sprinkled on the skin. My

companions always gave the Assacu a wide berth when we passed

one. The tree looks ugly enough to merit a bad name, for the bark

is of a dingy olive colour, and is studded with short and sharp,

venomous-looking spines.

After walking about half a mile we came upon a dry watercourse,

where we observed, first, the old footmarks of a tapir, and, soon

after, on the margin of a curious circular hole full of muddy

water, the fresh tracks of a Jaguar. This latter discovery was

hardly made when a rush was heard amidst the bushes on the top of

a sloping bank on the opposite side of the dried creek. We

bounded forward; it was, however, too late, for the animal had

sped in a few minutes far out of our reach. It was clear we had

disturbed, on our approach, the Jaguar, while quenching his

thirst at the water-hole. A few steps further on we saw the

mangled remains of an alligator (the Jacaretinga). The head,

forequarters, and bony shell were the only parts which remained;

but the meat was quite fresh, and there were many footmarks of

the Jaguar around the carcase-- so that there was no doubt this

had formed the solid part of the animal's breakfast. My

companions now began to search for the alligator's nest, the

presence of the reptile so far from the river being accountable

for on no other ground than its maternal solicitude for its eggs.

We found, in fact, the nest at the distance of a few yards from

the place. It was a conical pile of dead leaves, in the middle of

which twenty eggs were buried. These were of elliptical shape,

considerably larger than those of a duck, and having a hard shell

of the texture of porcelain, but very rough on the outside. They

make a loud sound when rubbed together, and it is said that it is

easy to find a mother alligator in the Ygapo forests by rubbing

together two eggs in this way, she being never far off, and

attracted by the sounds.

I put half-a-dozen of the alligator's eggs in my game-bag for

specimens, and we then continued on our way. Lino, who was now

first, presently made a start backwards, calling out "Jararaca!"

This is the name of a poisonous snake (genus Craspedocephalus),

which is far more dreaded by the natives than Jaguar or

Alligator. The individual seen by Lino lay coiled up at the foot

of a tree, and was scarcely distinguishable, on account of the

colours of its body being assimilated to those of the fallen

leaves. Its hideous, flat triangular head, connected with the

body by a thin neck, was reared and turned towards us: Frazao

killed it with a charge of shot, shattering it completely, and

destroying, to my regret, its value as a specimen. In conversing

on the subject of Jararacas as we walked onwards, every one of

the party was ready to swear that this snake attacks man without

provocation, leaping towards him from a considerable distance

when he approaches. I met, in the course of my daily rambles in

the woods, many Jararacas, and once or twice narrowly very

escaped treading on them, but never saw them attempt to spring.

On some subjects the testimony of the natives of a wild country

is utterly worthless. The bite of the Jararacas is generally

fatal. I knew of four or five instances of death from it, and

only of one clear case of recovery after being bitten; but in

that case the person was lamed for life.

We walked over moderately elevated and dry ground for about a

mile, and then descended (three or four feet only) to the dry bed

of another creek. This was pierced in the same way as the former

water-course, with round holes full of muddy water. They occurred

at intervals of a few yards, and had the appearance of having

been made by the hand of man. The smallest were about two feet,

the largest seven or eight feet in diameter. As we approached the

most extensive of the larger ones, I was startled at seeing a

number of large serpent-like heads bobbing about the surface.

They proved to be those of electric eels, and it now occurred to

me that the round holes were made by these animals working

constantly round and round in the moist, muddy soil. Their depth

(some of them were at least eight feet deep) was doubtless due

also to the movements of the eels in the soft soil, and accounted

for their not drying up, in the fine season, with the rest of the

creek. Thus, while alligators and turtles in this great inundated

forest region retire to the larger pools during the dry season,

the electric eels make for themselves little ponds in which to

pass the season of drought.

My companions now cut each a stout pole, and proceeded to eject

the eels in order to get at the other fishes, with which they had

discovered the ponds to abound. I amused them all very much by

showing how the electric shock from the eels could pass from one

person to another. We joined hands in a line while I touched the

biggest and freshest of the animals on the head with the point of

my hunting-knife. We found that this experiment did not succeed

more than three times with the same eel when out of the water;

for, the fourth time the shock was scarcely perceptible. All the

fishes found in the holes (besides the eels) belonged to one

species, a small kind of Acari, or Loricaria, a group whose

members have a complete bony integument. Lino and the boy strung

them together through the gills with slender sipos, and hung them

on the trees to await our return later in the day.

Leaving the bed of the creek, we marched onwards, always towards

the centre of the land, guided by the sun, which now glimmered

through the thick foliage overhead. About eleven o'clock we saw a

break in the forest before us, and presently emerged on the banks

of a rather large sheet of water. This was one of the interior

pools of which there are so many in this district. The margins

were elevated some few feet, and sloped down to the water, the

ground being hard and dry to the water's edge, and covered with

shrubby vegetation. We passed completely round this pool, finding

the crowns of the trees on its borders tenanted by curassow

birds, whose presence was betrayed as usual by the peculiar note

which they emit. My companions shot two of them. At the further

end of the lake lay a deep watercourse, which we traced for about

half a mile, and found to communicate with another and smaller

pool. This second one evidently swarmed with turtles, as we saw

the snouts of many peering above the surface of the water: the

same had not been seen in the larger lake, probably because we

had made too much noise in hailing our discovery on approaching

its banks. My friends made an arrangement on the spot for

returning to this pool, after the termination of the egg harvest

on Catua.

In recrossing the space between the two pools, we heard the crash

of monkeys in the crowns of trees overhead. The chase of these

occupied us a considerable time. Jose fired at length at one of

the laggards of the troop, and wounded him. He climbed pretty

nimbly towards a denser part of the tree, and a second and third

discharge failed to bring him down. The poor maimed creature then

trailed his limbs to one of the topmost branches, where we

descried him soon after, seated and picking the entrails from a

wound in his abdomen-- a most heart-rending sight. The height

from the ground to the bough on which he was perched could not

have been less than 150 feet, and we could get a glimpse of him

only by standing directly underneath, and straining our eyes

upwards. We killed him at last by loading our best gun with a

careful charge, and resting the barrel against the treetrunk to

steady the aim. A few shots entered his chin, and he then fell

heels over head screaming to the ground. Although it was I who

gave the final shot, this animal did not fall to my lot in

dividing the spoils at the end of the day. I regret now not

having preserved the skin, as it belonged to a very large species

of Cebus, and one which I never met with afterwards.

It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when we again reached

the spot where we had first struck the banks of the larger pool.

We hitherto had but poor sport, so after dining on the remains of

our fried fish and farinha, and smoking our cigarettes, the

apparatus for making which, including bamboo tinder-box and steel

and flint for striking a light, being carried by every one always

on these expeditions, we made off in another (westerly) direction

through the forest to try to find better hunting-ground. We

quenched our thirst with water from the pool, which I was rather

surprised to find quite pure. These pools are, of course,

sometimes fouled for a time by the movements of alligators and

other tenants in the fine mud which settles at the bottom, but I

never observed a scum of confervae or traces of oil revealing

animal decomposition on the surface of these waters, nor was

there ever any foul smell perceptible. The whole of this level

land, instead of being covered with unwholesome swamps emitting

malaria, forms in the dry season (and in the wet also) a most

healthy country. How elaborate must be the natural processes of

self-purification in these teeming waters!

On our fresh route we were obliged to cut our way through a long

belt of bamboo underwood, and not being so careful of my steps as

my companions, I trod repeatedly on the flinty thorns which had

fallen from the bushes, finishing by becoming completely lame,

one thorn having entered deeply the sole of my foot. I was

obliged to be left behind-- Lino, the Indian, remaining with me.

The careful fellow cleaned my wounds with his saliva, placed

pieces of isca (the felt-like substance manufactured by ants) on

them to staunch the blood, and bound my feet with tough bast to

serve as shoes, which he cut from the bark of a Monguba tree. He

went about his work in a very gentle way and with much skill, but

was so sparing of speech that I could scarcely get answers to the

questions I put to him. When he had done I was able to limp about

pretty nimbly. An Indian when he performs a service of this kind

never thinks of a reward. I did not find so much

disinterestedness in negro slaves or half-castes. We had to wait

two hours for the return of our companions; during part of this

time I was left quite alone, Lino having started off into the

jungle after a peccary (a kind of wild hog) which had come near

to where we sat, but on seeing us had given a grunt and bounded

off into the thickets. At length our friends hove in sight,

loaded with game; having shot twelve curassows and two cujubims

(Penelope Pipile), a handsome black fowl with a white head, which

is arboreal in its habits like the rest of this group of

Gallinaceous birds inhabiting the South American forests. They

had discovered a third pool containing plenty of turtles. Lino

rejoined us at the same time, having missed the peccary, but in

compensation shot a Quandu, or porcupine. The mulatto boy had

caught alive in the pool a most charming little water-fowl, a

species of grebe. It was somewhat smaller than a pigeon, and had

a pointed beak; its feet were furnished with many intricate folds

or frills of skin instead of webs, and resembled very much those

of the gecko lizards. The bird was kept as a pet in Jabuti's

house at Ega for a long time afterwards, where it became

accustomed to swim about in a common hand-basin full of water,

and was a great favourite with everybody.

We now retraced our steps towards the water-side, a weary walk of

five or six miles, reaching our canoe by half-past five o'clock,

or a little before sunset. It was considered by everyone at Catua

that we had had an unusually good day's sport. I never knew any

small party to take so much game in one day in these forests,

over which animals are everywhere so widely and sparingly

scattered. My companions were greatly elated, and on approaching

the encampment at Catua, made a great commotion with their

paddles to announce their successful return, singing in their

loudest key one of the wild choruses of the Amazonian boatmen.

The excavation of eggs and preparation of the oil being finished,

we left Catua on the 3rd of November. Carepira, who was now

attached to Cardozo's party, had discovered another lake rich in

turtles, about twelve miles distant, in one of his fishing

rambles, and my friend resolved, before returning to Ega, to go

there with his nets and drag it as we had formerly done the

Aningal. Several Mameluco families of Ega begged to accompany us

to share the labours and booty; the Shumana family also joined

the party; we therefore, formed a large body, numbering in all

eight canoes and fifty persons.

The summer season was now breaking up; the river was rising; the

sky was almost constantly clouded, and we had frequent rains. The

mosquitoes also, which we had not felt while encamped on the

sand-banks, now became troublesome. We paddled up the north-

westerly channel, and arrived at a point near the upper end of

Catua at ten o'clock p.m. There was here a very broad beach of

untrodden white sand, which extended quite into the forest, where

it formed rounded hills and hollows like sand dunes, covered with

a peculiar vegetation: harsh, reedy grasses, and low trees matted

together with lianas, and varied with dwarf spiny palms of the

genus Bactris. We encamped for the night on the sands, finding

the place luckily free from mosquitoes. The different portions of

the party made arched coverings with the toldos or maranta-leaf

awnings of their canoes to sleep under, fixing the edges in the

sand. No one, however, seemed inclined to go to sleep, so after

supper we all sat or lay around the large fires and amused

ourselves. We had the fiddler with us, and in the intervals

between the wretched tunes which he played, the usual amusement

of story-telling beguiled the time: tales of hair-breadth escapes

from jaguar, alligator, and so forth. There were amongst us a

father and son who had been the actors, the previous year, in an

alligator adventure on the edge of the praia we had just left.

The son, while bathing, was seized by the thigh and carried under

water-- a cry was raised, and the father, rushing down the bank,

plunged after the rapacious beast, which was diving away with his

victim. It seems almost incredible that a man could overtake and

master the large cayman in his own element; but such was the case

in this instance, for the animal was reached and forced to

release his booty by the man's thrusting his thumb into his eye.

The lad showed us the marks of the alligator's teeth on his

thigh. We sat up until past midnight listening to these stories

and assisting the flow of talk by frequent potations of burnt

rum. A large, shallow dish was filled with the liquor and fired;

when it had burned for a few minutes, the flame was extinguished

and each one helped himself by dipping a tea-cup into the vessel.

One by one the people dropped asleep, and then the quiet murmur

of talk of the few who remained awake was interrupted by the roar

of jaguars in the jungle about a furlong distant. There was not

one only, but several of the animals. The older men showed

considerable alarm and proceeded to light fresh fires around the

outside of our encampment. I had read in books of travel of

tigers coming to warm themselves by the fires of a bivouac, and

thought my strong wish to witness the same sight would have been

gratified tonight. I had not, however,such good fortune, although

I was the last to go to sleep, and my bed was the bare sand under

a little arched covering open at both ends. The jaguars,

nevertheless, must have come very near during the night, for

their fresh footmarks were numerous within a score yards of the

place where we slept. In the morning I had a ramble along the

borders of the jungle, and found the tracks very numerous and

close together on the sandy soil.

We remained in this neighbourhood four days, and succeeded in

obtaining many hundred turtles, but we were obliged to sleep two

nights within the Carapanatuba channel. The first night passed

rather pleasantly, for the weather was fine, and we encamped in

the forest, making large fires and slinging our hammocks between

the trees. The second was one of the most miserable nights I ever

spent. The air was close, and a drizzling rain began to fall

about midnight, lasting until morning. We tried at first to brave

it out under the trees. Several very large fires were made,

lighting up with ruddy gleams the magnificent foliage in the

black shades around our encampment. The heat and smoke had the

desired effect of keeping off pretty well the mosquitoes, but the

rain continued until at length everything was soaked, and we had

no help for it but to bundle off to the canoes with drenched

hammocks and garments. There was not nearly room enough in the

flotilla to accommodate so large a number of persons lying at

full length; moreover the night was pitch dark, and it was quite

impossible in the gloom and confusion to get at a change of

clothing. So there we lay, huddled together in the best way we

could arrange ourselves, exhausted with fatigue and irritated

beyond all conception by clouds of mosquitoes. I slept on a bench

with a sail over me, my wet clothes clinging to my body, and to

increase my discomfort, close beside me lay an Indian girl, one

of Cardozo's domestics, who had a skin disfigured with black

diseased patches, and whose thick clothing, not having been

washed during the whole time we had been out (eighteen days),

gave forth a most vile effluvium.

We spent the night of the 7th of November pleasantly on the

smooth sands, where the jaguars again serenaded us, and on the

succeeding morning we commenced our return voyage to Ega. We

first doubled the upper end of the island of Catua, and then

struck off for the right bank of the Solimoens. The river was

here of immense width, and the current was so strong in the

middle that it required the most strenuous exertions on the part

of our paddlers to prevent us from being carried miles away down

the stream. At night we reached the Juteca, a small river which

enters the Solimoens by a channel so narrow that a man might

almost jump across it, but a furlong inwards expands into a very

pretty lake several miles in circumference. We slept again in the

forest, and again were annoyed by rain and mosquitoes; but this

time Cardozo and I preferred remaining where we were to mingling

with the reeking crowd in the boats. When the grey dawn arose a

steady rain was still falling, and the whole sky had a settled,

leaden appearance, but it was delightfully cool. We took our net

into the lake and gleaned a good supply of delicious fish for

breakfast. I saw at the upper end of this lake the native rice of

this country growing wild.

The weather cleared up at ten o'clock a.m. At three p.m. we

arrived at the mouth of the Cayambe, another tributary stream

much larger than the Juteca. The channel of exit to the Solimoens

was here also very narrow, but the expanded river inside is of

vast dimensions: it forms a lake (I may safely venture to say),

several score miles in circumference. Although prepared for these

surprises, I was quite taken aback in this case. We had been

paddling all day along a monotonous shore, with the dreary

Solimoens before us, here three to four miles broad, heavily

rolling onward its muddy waters. We come to a little gap in the

earthy banks, and find a dark, narrow inlet with a wall of forest

overshadowing it on each side; we enter it, and at a distance of

two or three hundred yards a glorious sheet of water bursts upon

the view. The scenery of Cayambe is very picturesque. The land,

on the two sides visible of the lake, is high, and clothed with

sombre woods, varied here and there with a white-washed house, in

the middle of a green patch of clearing, belonging to settlers.

In striking contrast to these dark, rolling forests, is the

vivid, light green and cheerful foliage of the woods on the

numerous islets which rest like water-gardens on the surface of

the lake. Flocks of ducks, storks, and snow-white herons inhabit

these islets, and a noise of parrots with the tingling chorus of

Tamburi-paras was heard from them as we passed. This has a

cheering effect after the depressing stillness and absence of

life in the woods on the margins of the main river.

Cardozo and I took a small boat and crossed the lake to visit one

of the settlers, and on our return to our canoe, while in the

middle of the lake, a squall suddenly arose in the direction

towards which we were going, so that for a whole hour we were in

great danger of being swamped. The wind blew away the awning and

mats, and lashed the waters into foam, the waves rising to a

great height. Our boat, fortunately, was excellently constructed,

rising well towards the prow, so that with good steering we

managed to head the billows as they arose, and escaped without

shipping much water. We reached our igarite at sunset, and then

made all speed to Curubaru, fifteen miles distant, to encamp for

the night on the sands. We reached the praia at ten o'clock. The

waters were now mounting fast upon the sloping beach, and we

found on dragging the net next morning that fish was beginning to

be scarce. Cardozo and his friends talked quite gloomily at

breakfast time over the departure of the joyous verao, and the

setting in of the dull, hungry winter season.

At nine o'clock in the morning of the 10th of November a light

wind from down river sprang up, and all who had sails hoisted

them. It was the first time during our trip that we had had

occasion to use our sails, so continual is the calm on this upper

river. We bowled along merrily, and soon entered the broad

channel lying between Baria and the mainland on the south bank.

The wind carried us right into the mouth of the Teffe and at four

o'clock p.m. we cast anchor in the port of Ega.

CHAPTER XII

ANIMALS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF EGA

Scarlet-faced Monkeys--Parauacu Monkey--Owl-faced Night-apes--

Marmosets--Jupura--Bats--Birds--Cuvier's Toucan--Curl-crested

Toucan--Insects--Pendulous Cocoons--Foraging Ants--Blind Ants

As may have been gathered from the remarks already made, the

neighbourhood of Ega was a fine field for a Natural History

collector. With the exception of what could be learned from the

few specimens brought home, after transient visits by Spix and

Martius and the Count de Castelnau, whose acquisitions have been

deposited in the public museums of Munich and Paris, very little

was known in Europe of the animal tenants of this region; the

collections that I had the opportunity of making and sending home

attracted, therefore, considerable attention. Indeed, the name of

my favourite village has become quite a household word among a

numerous class of Naturalists, not only in England but abroad, in

consequence of the very large number of new species (upwards of

3000) which they have had to describe, with the locality "Ega"

attached to them. The discovery of new species, however, forms

but a small item in the interest belonging to the study of the

living creation. The structure, habits, instincts, and

geographical distribution of some of the oldest-known forms

supply inexhaustible materials for reflection. The few remarks I

have to make on the animals of Ega will relate to the mammals,

birds, and insects, and will sometimes apply to the productions

of the whole Upper Amazons region. We will begin with the

monkeys, the most interesting, next to man, of all animals.

Scarlet-faced Monkeys--Early one sunny morning, in the year 1855,

I saw in the streets of Ega a number of Indians, carrying on

their shoulders down to the port, to be embarked on the Upper

Amazons steamer, a large cage made of strong lianas, some twelve

feet in length and five in height, containing a dozen monkeys of

the most grotesque appearance. Their bodies (about eighteen

inches in height, exclusive of limbs) were clothed from neck to

tail with very long, straight, and shining whitish hair; their

heads were nearly bald, owing to the very short crop of thin grey

hairs, and their faces glowed with the most vivid scarlet hue. As

a finish to their striking physiognomy, they had bushy whiskers

of a sandy colour, meeting under the chin, and reddish-yellow

eyes. These red-faced apes belonged to a species called by the

Indians Uakari, which is peculiar to the Ega district, and the

cage with its contents was being sent as a present by Senor

Chrysostomo, the Director of Indians of the Japura, to one of the

Government officials at Rio Janeiro, in acknowledgment of having

been made colonel of the new National Guard. They had been

obtained with great difficulty in the forests which cover the

lowlands near the principal mouth of the Japura, about thirty

miles from Ega. It was the first time I had seen this most

curious of all the South American monkeys, and one that appears

to have escaped the notice of Spix and Martius. I afterwards made

a journey to the district inhabited by it, but did not then

succeed in obtaining specimens; before leaving the country,

however, I acquired two individuals, one of which lived in my

house for several weeks.

The scarlet-faced monkey belongs, in all essential points of

structure, to the same family (Cebidae) as the rest of the large-

sized American species; but it differs from all its relatives in

having only the rudiment of a tail, a member which reaches in

some allied kinds the highest grade of development known in the

order. It was so unusual to see a nearly tailless monkey from

America, that naturalists thought, when the first specimens

arrived in Europe, that the member had been shortened

artificially. Nevertheless, the Uakari is not quite isolated from

its related species of the same family, several other kinds, also

found on the Amazons, forming a graduated passage between the

extreme forms as regards the tail. The appendage reaches its

perfection in those genera (the Howlers, the Lagothrix and the

Spider monkeys) in which it presents on its under-surface near

the tip a naked palm, which makes it sensitive and useful as a

fifth hand in climbing. In the rest of the genera of Cebidae

(seven in number, containing thirty-eight species), the tail is

weaker in structure, entirely covered with hair, and of little or

no service in climbing, a few species nearly related to our

Uakari having it much shorter than usual. All the Cebidae, both

long-tailed and short-tailed, are equally dwellers in trees. The

scarlet-faced monkey lives in forests, which are inundated during

great part of the year, and is never known to descend to the

ground; the shortness of its tail is, therefore, no sign of

terrestrial habits, as it is in the Macaques and Baboons of the

Old World. It differs a little from the typical Cebidae in its

teeth, the incisors being oblique and, in the upper jaw,

converging, so as to leave a gap between the outermost and the

canine teeth. Like all the rest of its family, it differs from

the monkeys of the Old World, and from man, in having an

additional grinding-tooth (premolar) in each side of both jaws,

making the complete set thirty-six instead of thirty-two in

number.

The white Uakari (Brachyurus calvus), seems to be found in no

other part of America than the district just mentioned, namely,

the banks of the Japura, near its principal mouth; and even there

it is confined, as far I could learn, to the western side of the

river. It lives in small troops among the crowns of the lofty

trees, subsisting on fruits of various kinds. Hunters say it is

pretty nimble in its motions, but is not much given to leaping,

preferring to run up and down the larger boughs in travelling

from tree to tree. The mother, as in other species of the monkey

order, carries her young on her back. Individuals are obtained

alive by shooting them with the blow-pipe and arrows tipped with

diluted Urari poison. They run a considerable distance after

being pierced, and it requires an experienced hunter to track

them. He is considered the most expert who can keep pace with a

wounded one, and catch it in his arms when it falls exhausted. A

pinch of salt, the antidote to the poison, is then put in its

mouth, and the creature revives. The species is rare, even in the

limited district which it inhabits. Senor Chrysostomo sent six of

his most skillful Indians, who were absent three weeks before

they obtained the twelve specimens which formed his unique and

princely gift. When an independent hunter obtains one, a very

high price (thirty to forty milreis) [Three pounds seven

shillings to four pounds thirteen shillings] is asked, these

monkeys being in great demand for presents to persons of

influence down the river.

Adult Uakaris, caught in the way just described, very rarely

become tame. They are peevish and sulky, resisting all attempts

to coax them, and biting anyone who ventures within reach. They

have no particular cry, even when in their native woods; in

captivity they are quite silent. In the course of a few days or

weeks, if not very carefully attended to, they fall into a

listless condition, refuse food, and die. Many of them succumb to

a disease which I suppose from the symptoms to be inflammation of

the chest or lungs. The one which I kept as a pet died of this

disorder after I had had it about three weeks. It lost its

appetite in a very few days, although kept in an airy verandah;

its coat, which was originally long, smooth, and glossy, became

dingy and ragged like that of the specimens seen in museums, and

the bright scarlet colour of its face changed to a duller hue.

This colour, in health, is spread over the features up to the

roots of the hair on the forehead and temples, and down to the

neck, including the flabby cheeks which hang down below the jaws.

The animal, in this condition, looks at a short distance as

though some one had laid a thick coat of red paint on its

countenance. The death of my pet was slow; during the last

twenty-four hours it lay prostrate, breathing quickly, its chest

strongly heaving; the colour of its face became gradually paler,

but was still red when it expired. As the hue did not quite

disappear until two or three hours after the animal was quite

dead, I judged that it was not exclusively due to the blood, but

partly to a pigment beneath the skin which would probably retain

its colour a short time after the circulation had ceased.

After seeing much of the morose disposition of the Uakari, I was

not a little surprised one day at a friend's house to find an

extremely lively and familiar individual of this species. It ran

from an inner chamber straight towards me after I had sat down on

a chair, climbed my legs and nestled in my lap, turning round and

looking up with the usual monkey's grin, after it had made itself

comfortable. It was a young animal which had been taken when its

mother was shot with a poisoned arrow; its teeth were incomplete,

and the face was pale and mottled, the glowing scarlet hue not

supervening in these animals before mature age; it had also a few

long black hairs on the eyebrows and lips. The frisky little

fellow had been reared in the house amongst the children, and

allowed to run about freely, and take its meals with the rest of

the household. There are few animals which the Brazilians of

these villages have not succeeded in taming. I have even seen

young jaguars running loose about a house, and treated as pets.

The animals that I had rarely became familiar, however long they

might remain in my possession, a circumstance due no doubt to

their being kept always tied up.

The Uakari is one of the many species of animals which are

classified by the Brazilians as "mortal," or of delicate

constitution, in contradistinction to those which are "duro," or

hardy. A large proportion of the specimens sent from Ega die

before arriving at Para, and scarcely one in a dozen succeeds in

reaching Rip Janeiro alive. The difficulty it has of

accommodating itself to changed conditions probably has some

connection with the very limited range or confined sphere of life

of the species in its natural state, its native home being an

area of swampy woods, not more than about sixty square miles in

extent, although no permanent barrier exists to cheek its

dispersal, except towards the south, over a much wider space.

When I descended the river in 1859, we had with us a tame adult

Uakari, which was allowed to ramble about the vessel, a large

schooner. When we reached the mouth of the Rio Negro, we had to

wait four days while the custom-house officials at Barra, ten

miles distant, made out the passports for our crew, and during

this time the schooner lay close to the shore, with its bowsprit

secured to the trees on the bank. Well, one morning, scarlet-face

was missing, having made his escape into the forest. Two men were

sent in search of him, but returned after several hours' absence

without having caught sight of the runaway. We gave up the monkey

for lost, until the following day, when he re-appeared on the

skirts of the forest, and marched quietly down the bowsprit to

his usual place on deck. He had evidently found the forests of

the Rio Negro very different from those of the delta lands of the

Japura, and preferred captivity to freedom in a place that was so

uncongenial to him.

The Parauacu Monkey.--Another Ega monkey, nearly related to the

Uakaris, is the Parauacu (Pithecia hirsuta), a timid inoffensive

creature with a long bear-like coat of harsh speckled-grey hair.

The long fur hangs over the head, half concealing the pleasing

diminutive face, and clothes also the tail to the tip, which

member is well developed, being eighteen inches in length, or

longer than the body. The Parauacu is found on the "terra firma"

lands of the north shore of the Solimoens from Tunantins to Peru.

It exists also on the south side of the river, namely, on the

banks of the Teffe, but there under a changed form, which differs

a little from its type in colours. This form has been described

by Dr. Gray as a distinct species, under the name of Pithecia

albicans. The Parauacu is also a very delicate animal, rarely

living many weeks in captivity; but any one who succeeds in

keeping it alive for a month or two, gains by it a most

affectionate pet. One of the specimens of Pithecia albicans now

in the British Museum was, when living, the property of a young

Frenchman, a neighbour of mine at Ega. It became so tame in the

course of a few weeks that it followed him about the streets like

a dog. My friend was a tailor, and the little pet used to spend

the greater part of the day seated on his shoulder, while he was

at work on his board. Nevertheless,it showed great dislike to

strangers, and was not on good terms with any other member of my

friend's household than himself. I saw no monkey that showed so

strong a personal attachment as this gentle, timid, silent,

little creature. The eager and passionate Cebi seem to take the

lead of all the South American monkeys in intelligence and

docility, and the Coaita has perhaps the most gentle and

impressible disposition; but the Parauacu, although a dull,

cheerless animal, excels all in this quality of capability of

attachment to individuals of our own species. It is not wanting,

however, in intelligence as well as moral goodness, proof of

which was furnished one day by an act of our little pet. My

neighbour had quitted his house in the morning without taking

Parauacu with him, and the little creature having missed its

friend, and concluded, as it seemed, that he would be sure to

come to me, both being in the habit of paying me a daily visit

together, came straight to my dwelling, taking a short cut over

gardens, trees, and thickets, instead of going the roundabout way

of the street. It had never done this before, and we knew the

route it had taken only from a neighbour having watched its

movements. On arriving at my house and not finding its master, it

climbed to the top of my table, and sat with an air of quiet

resignation waiting for him. Shortly afterwards my friend

entered, and the gladdened pet then jumped to its usual perch on

his shoulder.

Owl-laced Night Apes--A third interesting genus of monkeys found

near Ega, are the Nyctipitheci, or night apes, called Ei-a by the

Indians. Of these I found two species, closely related to each

other but nevertheless quite distinct, as both inhabit the same

forests, namely, those of the higher and drier lands, without

mingling with each other or intercrossing. They sleep all day

long in hollow trees, and come forth to prey on insects and eat

fruits only in the night. They are of small size, the body being

about a foot long, and the tall fourteen inches, and are thickly

clothed with soft grey and brown fur, similar in substance to

that of the rabbit. Their physiognomy reminds one of an owl, or

tiger-cat: the face is round and encircled by a ruff of whitish

fur. the muzzle is not at all prominent; the mouth and chin are

small; the cars are very short, scarcely appearing above the hair

of the head; and the eyes are large and yellowish in colour,

imparting the staring expression of nocturnal animals of prey.

The forehead is whitish, and decorated with three black stripes,

which in one of the species (Nyctipithecus trivirgatus) continue

to the crown; and in the other (N. felinus), meet on the top of

the forehead. N. trivirgatus was first described by Humboldt, who

discovered it on the banks of the Cassiquiare, near the head

waters of the Rio Negro.

I kept a pet animal of the N. trivirgatus for many months, a

young one having been given to me by an Indian compadre, as a

present from my newly-baptised godson. These monkeys, although

sleeping by day, are aroused by the least noise; so that, when a

person passes by a tree in which a number of them are concealed,

he is startled by the sudden apparition of a group of little

striped faces crowding a hole in the trunk. It was in this way

that my compadre discovered the colony from which the one given

to me was taken. I was obliged to keep my pet chained up; it

therefore, never became thoroughly familiar. I once saw, however,

an individual of the other species (N. felinus) which was most

amusingly tame. It was as lively and nimble as the Cebi, but not

so mischievous and far more confiding in its disposition,

delighting to be caressed by all persons who came into the house.

But its owner, the Municipal Judge of Ega, Dr. Carlos Mariana,

had treated it for many weeks with the greatest kindness,

allowing it to sleep with him at night in his hammock, and to

nestle in his bosom half the day as he lay reading. It was a

great favourite with everyone, from the cleanliness of its habits

to the prettiness of its features and ways. My own pet was kept

in a box, in which was placed a broad-mouthed glass jar; into

this it would dive, head foremost, when any one entered the room,

turning round inside, and thrusting forth its inquisitive face an

instant afterwards to stare at the intruder. It was very active

at night, venting at frequent intervals a hoarse cry, like the

suppressed barking of a dog, and scampering about the room, to

the length of its tether, after cockroaches and spiders. In

climbing between the box and the wall, it straddled the space,

resting its hands on the palms and tips of the out-stretched

fingers with the knuckles bent at an acute angle, and thus

mounted to the top with the greatest facility. Although seeming

to prefer insects, it ate all kinds of fruit, but would not touch

raw or cooked meat, and was very seldom thirsty. I was told by

persons who had kept these monkeys loose about the house, that

they cleared the chambers of bats as well as insect vermin. When

approached gently my Ei-a allowed itself to be caressed; but when

handled roughly, it always took alarm, biting severely, striking

out its little hands, and making a hissing noise like a cat. As

already related, my pet was killed by a jealous Caiarara monkey,

which was kept in the house at the same time.

Barrigudo Monkeys.--Ten other species of monkeys were found, in

addition to those already mentioned, in the forests of the Upper

Amazons. All were strictly arboreal and diurnal in their habits,

and lived in flocks, travelling from tree to tree, the mothers

with their children on their backs-- leading, in fact, a life

similar to that of the Pararauate Indians, and, like them,

occasionally plundering the plantations which lie near their line

of march. Some of them were found also on the Lower Amazons, and

have been noticed in former chapters of this narrative. Of the

remainder, the most remarkable is the Macaco barrigudo, or bag-

bellied monkey of the Portuguese colonists, a species of

Lagothrix. The genus is closely allied to the Coaitas, or spider

monkeys, having, like them, exceedingly strong and flexible

tails, which are furnished underneath with a naked palm like a

hand, for grasping. The Barrigudos, however, are very bulky

animals, while the spider monkeys are remarkable for the

slenderness of their bodies and limbs. I obtained specimens of

what have been considered two species, one (L. olivaceus of

Spix?) having the head clothed with grey, the other (L.

Humboldtii) with black fur. They both live together in the same

places, and are probably only differently-coloured individuals of

one and the same species. I sent home a very large male of one of

these kinds, which measured twenty-seven inches in length of

trunk, the tail being twenty-six inches long; it was the largest

monkey I saw in America, with the exception of a black Howler,

whose body was twenty-eight inches in height. The skin of the

face in the Barrigudo is black and wrinkled, the forehead is low,

with the eyebrows projecting, and, in short, the features

altogether resemble in a striking manner those of an old negro.

In the forests, the Barrigudo is not a very active animal; it

lives exclusively on fruits, and is much persecuted by the

Indians, on account of the excellence of its flesh as food. From

information given me by a collector of birds and mammals, whom I

employed, and who resided a long time among the Tucuna Indians

near Tabatinga, I calculated that one horde of this tribe, 200 in

number, destroyed 1200 of these monkeys annually for food. The

species is very numerous in the forests of the higher lands, but,

owing to long persecution, it is now seldom seen in the

neighbourhood of the larger villages. It is not found at all on

the Lower Amazons. Its manners in captivity are grave, and its

temper mild and confiding, like that of the Coaitas, owing to

these traits, the Barrigudo is much sought after for pets; but it

is not hardy like the Coaitas, and seldom survives a passage down

the river to Para.

Marmosets.-It now only remains to notice the Marmosets, which

form the second family of American monkeys. Our old friend Midas

ursulus, of Para and the Lower Amazons, is not found on the Upper

river, but in its stead a closely-allied species presents itself,

which appears to be the Midas rufoniger of Gervais, whose mouth

is bordered with longish white hairs. The habits of this species

are the same as those of the M. ursulus, indeed it seems probable

that it is a form or race of the same stock, modified to suit the

altered local conditions under which it lives. One day, while

walking along a forest pathway, I saw one of these lively little

fellows miss his grasp as he was passing from one tree to another

along with his troop. He fell head foremost, from a height of at

least fifty feet, but managed cleverly to alight on his legs in

the pathway, quickly turning around, gave me a good stare for a

few moments, and then bounded off gaily to climb another tree. At

Tunantins, I shot a pair of a very handsome species of Marmoset,

the M. rufiventer, I believe, of zoologists. Its coat was very

glossy and smooth, the back deep brown, and the underside of the

body of rich black and reddish hues. A third species (found at

Tabatinga, 200 miles further west) is of a deep black colour,

with the exception of a patch of white hair around its mouth. The

little animal, at a short distance, looks as though it held a

ball of snow-white cotton in its teeth. The last I shall mention

is the Hapale pygmaeus, one of the most diminutive forms of the

monkey order, three full-grown specimens of which, measuring only

seven inches in length of body, I obtained near St. Paulo. The

pretty Lilliputian face is furnished with long brown whiskers,

which are naturally brushed back over the cars. The general

colour of the animal is brownish-tawny, but the tail is elegantly

barred with black. I was surprised, on my return to England, to

learn from specimens in the British Museum, that the pigmy

Marmoset was found also in Mexico-- no other Amazonian monkey

being known to wander far from the great river plain. Thus, the

smallest and apparently the feeblest, species of the whole order,

is one which has, by some means, become the most widely

dispersed.

The Jupura.--A curious animal, known to naturalists as the

Kinkajou, but called Jupura by the Indians of the Amazons, and

considered by them as a kind of monkey, may be mentioned in this

place. It is the Cercoleptes caudivolvus of zoologists, and has

been considered by some authors as an intermediate form between

the Lemur family of apes and the plantigrade Carnivora, or Bear

family. It has decidedly no close relation ship to either of the

groups of American monkeys, having six cutting teeth to each jaw,

and long claws instead of nails, with extremities of the usual

shape of paws instead of hands. Its muzzle is conical and

pointed, like that of many Lemurs of Madagascar; the expression

of its countenance, and its habits and actions, are also very

similar to those of Lemurs. Its tail is very flexible towards the

tip, and is used to twine round branches in climbing. I did not

see or hear anything of this animal while residing on the Lower

Amazons, but on the banks of the Upper river, from the Teffe to

Peru, it appeared to be rather common. It is nocturnal in its

habits, like the owl-faced monkeys, although, unlike them, it has

a bright, dark eye. I once saw it in considerable numbers, when

on an excursion with an Indian companion along the low Ygapo

shores of the Teffe, about twenty miles above Ega. We slept one

night at the house of a native family living in the thick of the

forest where a festival was going on and, there being no room to

hang our hammocks under shelter. on account of the number of

visitors, we lay down on a mat in the open air, near a shed which

stood in the midst of a grove of fruit-trees and pupunha palms.

Past midnight, when all became still, after the uproar of

holidaymaking, as I was listening to the dull, fanning sound made

by the wings of impish hosts of vampire bats crowding round the

Caju trees, a rustle commenced from the side of the woods, and a

troop of slender, long-tailed animals were seen against the clear

moonlit sky, taking flying leaps from branch to branch through

the grove. Many of them stopped at the pupunha trees, and the

hustling, twittering, and screaming, with sounds of falling

fruits, showed how they were employed. I thought, at first, they

were Nyctipitheci, but they proved to be Jupuras, for the owner

of the house early next morning caught a young one, and gave it

to me. I kept this as a pet animal for several weeks, feeding it

on bananas and mandioca-meal mixed with treacle. It became tame

in a very short time, allowing itself to be caressed, but making

a distinction in the degree of confidence it showed between

myself and strangers. My pet was unfortunately killed by a

neighbour's dog, which entered the room where it was kept. The

animal is so difficult to obtain alive, its place of retreat in

the daytime not being known to the natives, that I was unable to

procure a second living specimen.

Bats--The only other mammals that I shall mention are the bats,

which exist in very considerable numbers and variety in the

forest, as well as in the buildings of the villages. Many small

and curious species, living in the woods, conceal themselves by

day under the broad leaf-blades of Heliconiae and other plants

which grow in shady places; others cling to the trunks of trees.

While walking through the forest in the daytime, especially along

gloomy ravines, one is almost sure to startle bats from their

sleeping-places; and at night they are often seen in great

numbers flitting about the trees on the shady margins of narrow

channels. I captured altogether, without giving especial

attention to bats, sixteen different species at Ega.

The Vampire Bat.--The little grey blood-sucking Phyllostoma,

mentioned in a former chapter as found in my chamber at Caripi,

was not uncommon at Ega, where everyone believes it to visit

sleepers and bleed them in the night. But the vampire was here by

far the most abundant of the family of leaf-nosed bats. It is the

largest of all the South American species, measuring twenty-eight

inches in expanse of wing. Nothing in animal physiognomy can be

more hideous than the countenance of this creature when viewed

from the front; the large, leathery ears standing out from the

sides and top of the head, the erect spear-shaped appendage on

the tip of the nose, the grin and the glistening black eye, all

combining to make up a figure that reminds one of some mocking

imp of fable. No wonder that imaginative people have inferred

diabolical instincts on the part of so ugly an animal. The

vampire, however, is the most harmless of all bats, and its

inoffensive character is well known to residents on the banks of

the Amazons. I found two distinct species of it, one having the

fur of a blackish colour, the other of a ruddy hue, and

ascertained that both feed chiefly on fruits. The church at Ega

was the headquarters of both kinds, I used to see them, as I sat

at my door during the short evening twilights, trooping forth by

scores from a large open window at the back of the altar,

twittering cheerfully as they sped off to the borders of the

forest. They sometimes enter houses; the first time I saw one in

my chamber, wheeling heavily round and round, I mistook it for a

pigeon, thinking that a tame one had escaped from the premises of

one of my neighbours. I opened the stomachs of several of these

bats, and found them to contain a mass of pulp and seeds of

fruits, mingled with a few remains of insects. The natives say

they devour ripe cajus and guavas on trees in the gardens, but on

comparing the seeds taken from their stomachs with those of all

cultivated trees at Ega, I found they were unlike any of them; it

is therefore, probable that they generally resort to the forest

to feed, coming to the village in the morning to sleep, because

they find it more secure from animals of prey than their natural

abides in the woods.

Birds.--I have already had occasion to mention several of the

more interesting birds found in the Ega district. The first thing

that would strike a newcomer in the forests of the Upper Amazons

would be the general scarcity of birds; indeed, it often happened

that I did not meet with a single bird during a whole day's

ramble in the richest and most varied parts of the woods. Yet the

country is tenanted by many hundred species, many of which are,

in reality, abundant, and some of them conspicuous from their

brilliant plumage. The cause of their apparent rarity is to be

sought in the sameness and density of the thousand miles of

forest which constitute their dwelling-place. The birds of the

country are gregarious, at least during the season when they are

most readily found; but the frugivorous kinds are to be met with

only when certain wild fruits are ripe, and to know the exact

localities of the trees requires months of experience. It would

not be supposed that the insectivorous birds are also gregarious,

but they are so-- numbers of distinct species, belonging to many

different families, joining together in the chase or search of

food. The proceedings of these associated bands of insect-hunters

are not a little curious, and merit a few remarks.

While hunting along the narrow pathways that are made through the

forest in the neighbourhood of houses and villages, one may pass

several days without seeing many birds; but now and then the

surrounding bushes and trees appear suddenly to swarm with them.

There are scores, probably hundreds of birds, all moving about

with the greatest activity--woodpeckers and Dendrocolaptidae

(from species no larger than a sparrow to others the size of a

crow) running up the tree trunks; tanagers, ant-thrushes,

hummingbirds, fly-catchers, and barbets flitting about the leaves

and lower branches. The bustling crowd loses no time, and

although moving in concert, each bird is occupied, on its own

account, in searching bark or leaf or twig; the barbets visit

every clayey nest of termites on the trees which lie in the line

of march. In a few minutes the host is gone, and the forest path

remains deserted and silent as before. I became, in course of

time, so accustomed to this habit of birds in the woods near Ega,

that I could generally find the flock of associated marauders

whenever I wanted it. There appeared to be only one of these

flocks in each small district; and, as it traversed chiefly a

limited tract of woods of second growth, I used to try different

paths until I came up with it.

The Indians have noticed these miscellaneous hunting parties of

birds, but appear not to have observed that they are occupied in

searching for insects. They have supplied their want of

knowledge, in the usual way of half-civilised people, by a theory

which has degenerated into a myth, to the effect that the onward

moving bands are led by a little grey bird, called the Uira-para,

which fascinates all the rest, and leads them a weary dance

through the thickets. There is certainly some appearance of truth

in this explanation, for sometimes stray birds encountered in the

line of march, are seen to be drawn into the throng, and purely

frugivorous birds are now and then found mixed up with the rest,

as though led away by some will-o'-the-wisp. The native women,

even the white and half-caste inhabitants of the towns, attach a

superstitious value to the skin and feathers of the Uira-para,

believing that if they keep them in their clothes' chest, the

relics will have the effect of attracting for the happy

possessors a train of lovers and followers. These birds are

consequently in great demand in some places, the hunters selling

them at a high price to the foolish girls, who preserve the

bodies by drying flesh and feathers together in the sun. I could

never get a sight of this famous little bird in the forest. I

once employed Indians to obtain specimens for me; but, after the

same man (who was a noted woodsman) brought me, at different

times, three distinct species of birds as the Uira-para, I gave

up the story as a piece of humbug. The simplest explanation

appears to be this: the birds associate in flocks from the

instinct of self-preservation in order to be a less easy prey to

hawks, snakes, and other enemies than they would be if feeding

alone.

Toucans--Cuvier's Toucan--Of this family of birds, so conspicuous

from the great size and light structure of their beaks, and so

characteristic of tropical American forests, five species inhabit

the woods of Ega. The commonest is Cuvier's Toucan, a large bird,

distinguished from its nearest relatives by the feathers at the

bottom of the back being of a saffron hue instead of red. It is

found more or less numerously throughout the year, as it breeds

in the neighbourhood, laying its eggs in holes of trees, at a

great height from the ground. During most months of the year, it

is met with in single individuals or small flocks, and the birds

are then very wary. Sometimes one of these little bands of four

or five is seen perched, for hours together, among the topmost

branches of high trees, giving vent to their remarkably loud,

shrill, yelping cries, one bird, mounted higher than the rest,

acting, apparently, as leader of the inharmonious chorus; but two

of them are often heard yelping alternately, and in different

notes. These cries have a vague resemblance to the syllables

Tocano, Tocano, and hence, the Indian name of this genus of

birds. At these times it is difficult to get a shot at Toucans,

for their senses are so sharpened that they descry the hunter

before he gets near the tree on which they are perched, although

he may be half-concealed among the underwood, 150 feet below

them. They stretch their necks downwards to look beneath, and on

espying the least movement among the foliage, fly off to the more

inaccessible parts of the forest. Solitary Toucans are sometimes

met with at the same season, hopping silently up and down the

larger boughs, and peering into crevices of the tree-trunks. They

moult in the months from March to June, some individuals earlier,

others later. This season of enforced quiet being passed, they

make their appearance suddenly in the dry forest, near Ega, in

large flocks, probably assemblages of birds gathered together

from the neighbouring Ygapo forests, which are then flooded and

cold. The birds have now become exceedingly tame, and the troops

travel with heavy laborious flight from bough to bough among the

lower trees. They thus become an easy prey to hunters, and

everyone at Ega who can get a gun of any sort and a few charges

of powder and shot, or a blow-pipe, goes daily to the woods to

kill a few brace for dinner; for, as already observed, the people

of Ega live almost exclusively on stewed and roasted Toucans

during the months of June and July, the birds being then very fat

and the meat exceedingly sweet and tender.

No one, on seeing a Toucan, can help asking what is the use of

the enormous bill, which, in some species, attains a length of

seven inches, and a width of more than two inches. A few remarks

on this subject may be here introduced. The early naturalists,

having seen only the bill of a Toucan, which was esteemed as a

marvellous production by the virtuosi of the sixteenth and

seventeenth centuries, concluded that the bird must have belonged

to the aquatic and web-footed order, as this contains so many

species of remarkable development of beak, adapted for seizing

fish. Some travvellers also related fabulous stories of Toucans

resorting to the banks of rivers to feed on fish, and these

accounts also encouraged the erroneous views of the habits of the

birds which for a long time prevailed. Toucans, however, are now

well known to be eminently arboreal birds, and to belong to a

group including trogons, parrots, and barbets [Capitoninae, G. R.

Gray.]-- all of whose members are fruit-eaters. On the Amazons,

where these birds are very common, no one pretends ever to have

seen a Toucan walking on the ground in its natural state, much

less acting the part of a swimming or wading bird. Professor Owen

found, on dissection, that the gizzard in Toucans is not so well

adapted for the trituration of food as it is in other vegetable

feeders, and concluded, therefore, as Broderip had observed the

habit of chewing the cud in a tame bird, that the great toothed

bill was useful in holding and remasticating the food. The bill

can scarcely be said to be a very good contrivance for seizing

and crushing small birds, or taking them from their nests in

crevices of trees, habits which have been imputed to Toucans by

some writers. The hollow, cellular structure of the interior of

the bill, its curved and clumsy shape, and the deficiency of

force and precision when it is used to seize objects, suggest a

want of fitness, if this be the function of the member. But fruit

is undoubtedly the chief food of Toucans, and it is in reference

to their mode of obtaining it that the use of their uncouth bills

is to be sought. Flowers and fruit on the crowns of the large

trees of South American forests grow, principally, towards the

end of slender twigs, which will not bear any considerable

weight; all animals, therefore, which feed upon fruit, or on

insects contained in flowers, must, of course, have some means of

reaching the ends of the stalks from a distance. Monkeys obtain

their food by stretching forth their long arms and, in some

instances, their tails, to bring the fruit near to their mouths.

Hummingbirds are endowed with highly perfected organs of flight

with corresponding muscular development by which they are enabled

to sustain themselves on the wing before blossoms whilst rifling

them of their contents. These strong-flying creatures, however,

will, whenever they can get near enough, remain on their perches

while probing neighbouring flowers for insects. Trogons have

feeble wings, and a dull, inactive temperament. Their mode of

obtaining food is to station themselves quietly on low branches

in the gloomy shades of the forest, and eye the fruits on the

surrounding trees-- darting off, as if with an effort, every time

they wish to seize a mouthful, and returning to the same perch.

Barbets (Capitoninae) seem to have no especial endowment, either

of habits or structure, to enable them to seize fruits; and in

this respect they are similar to the Toucans, if we leave the

bill out of question, both tribes having heavy bodies, with

feeble organs of flight, so that they are disabled from taking

their food on the wing. The purpose of the enormous bill here

becomes evident; it is to enable the Toucan to reach and devour

fruit whil remaining seated, and thus to counterbalance the

disadvantage which its heavy body and gluttonous appetite would

otherwise give it in the competition with allied groups of birds.

The relation between the extraordinarily lengthened bill of the

Toucan and its mode of obtaining food, is therefore precisely

similar to that between the long neck and lips of the Giraffe and

the mode of browsing of the animal. The bill of the Toucan can

scarcely be considered a very perfectly-formed instrument for the

end to which it is applied, as here explained; but nature appears

not to invent organs at once for the functions to which they are

now adapted, but avails herself, here of one already-existing

structure or instinct, there of another, according as they are

handy when need for their further modification arises.

One day, whil walking along the principal pathway in the woods

near Ega, I saw one of these Toucans seated gravely on a low

branch close to the road, and had no difficulty in seizing it

with my hand. It turned out to be a runaway pet bird; no one,

however, came to own it, although I kept it in my house for

several months. The bird was in a half-starved and sickly

condition, but after a few days of good living it recovered

health and spirits, and became one of the most amusing pets

imaginable. Many excellent accounts of the habits of tame Toucans

have been published, and therefore, I need not describe them in

detail, but I do not recollect to have seen any notice of their

intelligence and confiding disposition under domestication, in

which qualities my pet seemed to be almost equal to parrots. I

allowed Tocano to go free about the house, contrary to my usual

practice with pet animals, he never, however, mounted my working-

table after a smart correction which he received the first time

he did it. He used to sleep on the top of a box in a corner of

the room, in the usual position of these birds, namely, with the

long tail laid right over on the back, and the beak thrust

underneath the wing. He ate of everything that we eat; beef,

turtle, fish, farinha, fruit, and was a constant attendant at our

table--a cloth spread on a mat. His appetite was most ravenous,

and his powers of digestion quite wonderful. He got to know the

meal hours to a nicety, and we found it very difficult, after the

first week or two, to keep him away from the dining-room, where

he had become very impudent and troublesome. We tried to shut him

out by enclosing him in the backyard, which was separated by a

high fence from the street on which our front door opened, but he

used to climb the fence and hop round by a long circuit to the

dining-room, making his appearance with the greatest punctuality

as the meal was placed on the table. He acquired the habit,

afterwards, of rambling about the street near our house, and one

day he was stolen, so we gave him up for lost. But two days

afterwards he stepped through the open doorway at dinner hour,

with his old gait, and sly magpie-like expression, having escaped

from the house where he had been guarded by the person who had

stolen him, and which was situated at the further end of the

village.

The Curl-crested Toucan (Pteroglossus Beauharnaisii).--Of the

four smaller Toucans, or Arassaris, found near Ega, the

Pteroglossus flavirostris is perhaps the most beautiful in

colours, its breast being adorned with broad belts of rich

crimson and black; but the most curious species, by far, is the

Curl-crested, or Beauharnais Toucan. The feathers on the head of

this singular bird are transformed into thin, horny plates, of a

lustrous black colour, curled up at the ends, and resembling

shavings of steel or ebony-wood: the curly crest being arranged

on the crown in the form of a wig. Mr. Wallace and I first met

with this species, on ascending the Amazons, at the mouth of the

Solimoens; from that point it continues as a rather common bird

on the terra firma, at least on the south side of the river as

far as Fonte Boa, but I did not hear of its being found further

to the west. It appears in large flocks in the forests near Ega

in May and June, when it has completed its moult. I did not find

these bands congregated at fruit-trees, but always wandering

through the forest, hopping from branch to branch among the lower

trees, and partly concealed among the foliage. None of the

Arassaris, to my knowledge, make a yelping noise like that

uttered by the larger Toucans (Ramphastos); the notes of the

curl-crested species are very singular, resembling the croaking

of frogs. I had an amusing adventure one day with these birds. I

had shot one from a rather high tree in a dark glen in the

forest, and entered the thicket where the bird had fallen to

secure my booty. It was only wounded, and on my attempting to

seize it, set up a loud scream. In an instant, as if by magic,

the shady nook seemed alive with these birds, although there was

certainly none visible when I entered the jungle. They descended

towards me, hopping from bough to bough, some of them swinging on

the loops and cables of woody lianas, and all croaking and

fluttering their wings like so many furies. If I had had a long

stick in my hand I could have knocked several of them over. After

killing the wounded one, I began to prepare for obtaining more

specimens and punishing the viragos for their boldness; but the

screaming of their companion having ceased, they remounted the

trees, and before I could reload, every one of them had

disappeared.

Insects.--Upwards of 7000 species of insects were found in the

neighbourhood of Ega. I must confine myself in this place to a

few remarks on the order Lepidoptera, and on the ants, several

kinds of which, found chiefly on the Upper Amazons, exhibit the

most extraordinary instincts.

I found about 550 distinct species of butterflies at Ega. Those

who know a little of Entomology will be able to form some idea of

the riches of the place in this department, when I mention that

eighteen species of true Papilio (the swallow-tail genus) were

found within ten minutes' walk of my house. No fact could speak

more plainly for the surpassing exuberance of the vegetation, the

varied nature of the land, the perennial warmth and humidity of

the climate. But no description can convey an adequate notion of

the beauty and diversity in form and colour of this class of

insects in the neighbourhood of Ega. I paid special attention to

them, having found that this tribe was better adapted than almost

any other group of animals or plants to furnish facts in

illustration of the modifications which all species undergo in

nature, under changed local conditions. This accidental

superiority is owing partly to the simplicity and distinctness of

the specific character of the insects, and partly to the facility

with which very copious series of specimens can be collected and

placed side by side for comparison. The distinctness of the

specific characters is due probably to the fact that all the

superficial signs of change in the organisation are exaggerated,

and made unusually plain by affecting the framework, shape, and

colour of the wings, which, as many anatomists believe, are

magnified extensions of the skin around the breathing orifices of

the thorax of the insects. These expansions are clothed with

minute feathers or scales, coloured in regular patterns, which

vary in accordance with the slightest change in the conditions to

which the species are exposed. It may be said, therefore, that on

these expanded membranes Nature writes, as on a tablet, the story

of the modifications of species, so truly do all changes of the

organisation register themselves thereon. Moreover, the same

colour-patterns of the wings generally show, with great

regularity, the degrees of blood-relationship of the species. As

the laws of Nature must be the same for all beings, the

conclusions furnished by this group of insects must be applicable

to the whole organic world; therefore, the study of butterflies--

creatures selected as the types of airiness and frivolity--

instead of being despised, will some day be valued as one of the

most important branches of Biological science.

Before proceeding to describe the ants, a few remarks may be made

on the singular cases and cocoons woven by the caterpillars of

certain moths found at Ega. The first that may be mentioned is

one of the most beautiful examples of insect workmanship I ever

saw. It is a cocoon, about the size of a sparrow's egg, woven by

a caterpillar in broad meshes of either buff or rose-coloured

silk, and is frequently seen in the narrow alleys of the forest,

suspended from the extreme tip of an outstanding leaf by a strong

silken thread five or six inches in length. It forms a very

conspicuous object, hanging thus in mid-air. The glossy threads

with which it is knitted are stout, and the structure is

therefore, not liable to be torn by the beaks of insectivorous

birds, while its pendulous position makes it doubly secure

against their attacks, the apparatus giving way when they peck at

it. There is a small orifice at each end of the egg-shaped bag,

to admit of the escape of the moth when it changes from the

little chrysalis which sleeps tranquilly in its airy cage. The

moth is of a dull slatey colour, and belongs to the Lithosiide

group of the silk-worm family (Bombycidae). When the caterpillar

begins its work, it lets itself down from the tip of the leaf

which it has chosen by spinning a thread of silk, the thickness

of which it slowly increases as it descends. Having given the

proper length to the cord, it proceeds to weave its elegant bag,

placing itself in the centre and spinning rings of silk at

regular intervals, connecting them at the same time by means of

cross threads - so that the whole, when finished, forms a loose

web, with quadrangular meshes of nearly equal size throughout.

The task occupies about four days: when finished, the enclosed

caterpillar becomes sluggish, its skin shrivels and cracks, and

there then remains a motionless chrysalis of narrow shape,

leaning against the sides of its silken cage.

Many other kinds are found at Ega belonging to the same cocoon-

weaving family, some of which differ from the rest in their

caterpillars possessing the art of fabricating cases with

fragments of wood or leaves, in which they live secure from all

enemies while they are feeding and growing. I saw many species of

these; some of them knitted together, with fine silken threads,

small bits of stick, and so made tubes similar to those of

caddice-worms; others (Saccophora) chose leaves for the same

purpose, forming with them an elongated bag open at both ends,

and having the inside lined with a thick web. The tubes of full-

grown caterpillars of Saccophora are two inches in length, and it

is at this stage of growth that I have generally seen them. They

feed on the leaves of Melastoniae, and as in crawling, the weight

of so large a dwelling would be greater than the contained

caterpillar could sustain, the insect attaches the case by one or

more threads to the leaves or twigs near which it is feeding.

Foraging Ants--Many confused statements have been published in

books of travel, and copied in Natural History works, regarding

these ants, which appear to have been confounded with the Sauba,

a sketch of whose habits has been given in the first chapter of

this work. The Sauba is a vegetable feeder, and does not attack

other animals; the accounts that have been published regarding

carnivorous ants which hunt in vast armies, exciting terror

wherever they go, apply only to the Ecitons, or foraging ants, a

totally different group of this tribe of insects. The Ecitons are

called Tauoca by the Indians, who are always on the look-out for

their armies when they traverse the forest, so as to avoid being

attacked. I met with ten distinct species of them, nearly all of

which have a different system of marching; eight were new to

science when I sent them to England. Some are found commonly in

every part of the country, and one is peculiar to the open campos

of Santarem; but, as nearly all the species are found together at

Ega, where the forest swarmed with their armies, I have left an

account of the habits of the whole genus for this part of my

narrative. The Ecitons resemble, in their habits, the Driver ants

of Tropical Africa; but they have no close relationship with them

in structure, and indeed belong to quite another sub-group of the

ant-tribe.

Like many other ants, the communities of Ecitons are composed,

besides males and females, of two classes of workers, a large-

headed (worker-major) and a small-headed (worker-minor) class.

the large-heads have, in some species, greatly lengthened jaws,

the small-heads have jaws always of the ordinary shape; but the

two classes are not sharply-defined in structure and function,

except in two of the species. There is in all of them a little

difference among the workers regarding the size of the head; but

in some species this is not sufficient to cause a separation into

classes, with division of labour; in others, the jaws are so

monstrously lengthened in the worker-majors, that they are

incapacitated from taking part in the labours which the worker-

minors perform; and again, in others the difference is so great

that the distinction of classes becomes complete, one acting the

part of soldiers, and the other that of workers. The peculiar

feature in the habits of the Eciton genus is their hunting for

prey in regular bodies, or armies. It is this which chiefly

distinguishes them from the genus of common red stinging-ants,

several species of which inhabit England, whose habit is to

search for food in the usual irregular manner. All the Ecitons

hunt in large organised bodies; but almost every species has its

own special manner of hunting.

Eciton rapax.--One of the foragers, Eciton rapax, the giant of

its genus, whose worker-majors are half-an-inch in length, hunts

in single file through the forest. There is no division into

classes amongst its workers, although the difference in size is

very great, some being scarcely one-half the length of others.

The head and jaws, however, are always of the same shape, and a

gradation in size is presented from the largest to the smallest,

so that all are able to take part in the common labours of the

colony. The chief employment of the species seems to be

plundering the nests of a large and defenseless ant of another

genus (Formica), whose mangled bodies I have often seen in their

possession as they were marching away. The armies of Eciton rapax

are never very numerous.

Eciton legionis.--Another species, E. legionis, agrees with E.

rapax in having workers not rigidly divisible into two classes;

but it is much smaller in size, not differing greatly, in this

respect, from our common English red ant (Myrmica rubra), which

it also resembles in colour. The Eciton legionis lives in open

places, and was seen only on the sandy campos of Santarem. The

movement of its hosts were, therefore, much more easy to observe

than those of all other kinds, which inhabit solely the densest

thickets; its sting and bite, also, were less formidable than

those of other species. The armies of E. legionis consist of many

thousands of individuals, and move in rather broad columns. They

are just as quick to break line, on being disturbed, and attack

hurriedly and furiously any intruding object, as the other

Ecitons. The species is not a common one, and I seldom had good

opportunities to watch its habits. The first time I saw an army

was one evening near sunset. The column consisted of two trains

of ants, moving in opposite directions; one train empty-handed,

the other laden with the mangled remains of insects, chiefly

larvae and pupae of other ants. I had no difficulty in tracing

the line to the spot from which they were conveying their booty:

this was a low thicket; the Ecitons were moving rapidly about a

heap of dead leaves; but as the short tropical twilight was

deepening rapidly, and I had no wish to be benighted on the

lonely campos, I deferred further examination until the next day.

On the following morning, no trace of ants could be found near

the place where I had seen them the preceding day, nor were there

signs of insects of any description in the thicket, but at the

distance of eighty or one hundred yards, I came upon the same

army, engaged, evidently, on a razzia of a similar kind to that

of the previous evening, but requiring other resources of their

instinct, owing to the nature of the wound. They were eagerly

occupied on the face of an inclined bank of light earth, in

excavating mines, whence, from a depth of eight or ten inches,

they were extracting the bodies of a bulky species of ant, of the

genus Formica. It was curious to see them crowding around the

orifices of the mines, some assisting their comrades to lift out

the bodies of the Formicae, and others tearing them in pieces, on

account of their weight being too great for a single Eciton-- a

number of carriers seizing each a fragment, and carrying it off

down the slope. On digging into the earth with a small trowel

near the entrances of the mines, I found the nests of the

Formicae, with grubs and cocoons, which the Ecitons were thus

invading, at a depth of about eight inches from the surface. The

eager freebooters rushed in as fast as I excavated, and seized

the ants in my fingers as I picked them out, so that I had some

difficulty in rescuing a few intact for specimens. In digging the

numerous mines to get at their prey, the little Ecitons seemed to

be divided into parties, one set excavating, and another set

carrying away the grains of earth. When the shafts became rather

deep, the mining parties had to climb up the sides each time they

wished to cast out a pellet of earth; but their work was

lightened for them by comrades, who stationed themselves at the

mouth of the shaft, and relieved them of their burthens, carrying

the particles, with an appearance of foresight which quite

staggered me, a sufficient distance from the edge of the hole to

prevent them from rolling in again. All the work seemed thus to

be performed by intelligent cooperation among the host of eager

little creatures, but still there was not a rigid division of

labour, for some of them, whose proceedings I watched, acted at

one time as carriers of pellets, and at another as miners, and

all shortly afterwards assumed the office of conveyors of the

spoil.

In about two hours, all the nests of Formicae were rifled, though

not completely, of their contents, and I turned towards the army

of Ecitons, which were carrying away the mutilated remains. For

some distance there were many separate lines of them moving along

the slope of the bank-- but a short distance off, these all

converged, and then formed one close and broad column, which

continued for some sixty or seventy yards, and terminated at one

of those large termitariums or hillocks of white ants which are

constructed of cemented material as hard as stone. The broad and

compact column of ants moved up the steep sides of the hillock in

a continued stream; many, which had hitherto trotted along empty-

handed, now turned to assist their comrades with their heavy

loads, and the whole descended into a spacious gallery or mine,

opening on the top of the termitarium. I did not try to reach the

nest, which I supposed to lie at the bottom of the broad mine,

and therefore, in the middle of the base of the stony hillock.

Eciton drepanophora.--The commonest species of foraging ants are

the Eciton hamata and E. drepanophora, two kinds which resemble

each other so closely that it requires attentive examination to

distinguish them; yet their armies never intermingle, although

moving in the same woods and often crossing each other's tracks.

The two classes of workers look, at first sight, quite distinct,

on account of the wonderful amount of difference between the

largest individuals of the one, and the smallest of the other.

There are dwarfs not more than one-fifth of an inch in length,

with small heads and jaws, and giants half an inch in length with

monstrously enlarged head and jaws, all belonging to the same

brood. There is not, however, a distinct separation of classes,

individuals existing which connect together the two extremes.

These Ecitons are seen in the pathways of the forest at all

places on the banks of the Amazons, travelling in dense columns

of countless thousands. One or other of them is sure to be met

with in a woodland ramble, and it is to them, probably, that the

stories we read in books on South America apply, of ants clearing

houses of vermin, although I heard of no instance of their

entering houses, their ravages being confined to the thickest

parts of the forest.

When the pedestrian falls in with a train of these ants, the

first signal given him is a twittering and restless movement of

small flocks of plain-coloured birds (ant-thrushes) in the

jungle. If this be disregarded until he advances a few steps

farther, he is sure to fall into trouble, and find himself

suddenly attacked by numbers of the ferocious little creatures.

They swarm up his legs with incredible rapidity, each one driving

his pincer-like jaws into his skin, and with the purchase thus

obtained, doubling in its tail, and stinging with all its might.

There is no course left but to run for it; if he is accompanied

by natives they will be sure to give the alarm, crying "Tauoca!"

and scampering at full speed to the other end of the column of

ants. The tenacious insects who have secured themselves to his

legs then have to be plucked off one by one, a task which is

generally not accomplished without pulling them in twain, and

leaving heads and jaws sticking in the wounds.

The errand of the vast ant-armies is plunder, as in the case of

Eciton legionis; but from their moving always amongst dense

thickets, their proceedings are not so easy to observe as in that

species. Wherever they move, the whole animal world is set in

commotion, and every creature tries to get out of their way. But

it is especially the various tribes of wingless insects that have

cause for fear, such as heavy-bodied spiders, ants of other

species, maggots, caterpillars, larvae of cockroaches and so

forth, all of which live under fallen leaves, or in decaying

wood. The Ecitons do not mount very high on trees, and therefore

the nestlings of birds are not much incommoded by them. The mode

of operation of these armies, which I ascertained only after

long-continued observation, is as follows: the main column, from

four to six deep, moves forward in a given direction, clearing

the ground of all animal matter dead or alive, and throwing off

here and there a thinner column to forage for a short time on the

flanks of the main army, and re-enter it again after their task

is accomplished. If some very rich place be encountered anywhere

near the line of march, for example, a mass of rotten wood

abounding in insect larvae, a delay takes place, and a very

strong force of ants is concentrated upon it. The excited

creatures search every cranny and tear in pieces all the large

grubs they drag to light. It is curious to see them attack wasps'

nests, which are sometimes built on low shrubs. They gnaw away

the papery covering to get at the larvae, pupae, and newly-

hatched wasps, and cut everything to tatters, regardless of the

infuriated owners which are flying about them. In bearing off

their spoil in fragments, the pieces are apportioned to the

carriers with some degree of regard to fairness of load: the

dwarfs taking the smallest pieces, and the strongest fellows with

small heads the heaviest portions. Sometimes two ants join

together in carrying one piece, but the worker-majors, with their

unwieldy and distorted jaws, are incapacitated from taking any

part in the labour. The armies never march far on a beaten path,

but seem to prefer the entangled thickets where it is seldom

possible to follow them. I have traced an army sometimes for half

a mile or more, but was never able to find one that had finished

its day's course and returned to its hive. Indeed, I never met

with a hive; whenever the Ecitons were seen, they were always on

the march.

I thought one day, at Villa Nova, that I had come upon a

migratory horde of this indefatigable ant. The place was a tract

of open ground near the river side, just outside the edge of the

forest, and surrounded by rocks and shrubbery. A dense column of

Ecitons was seen extending from the rocks on one side of the

little haven, traversing the open space, and ascending the

opposite declivity. The length of the procession was from sixty

to seventy yards, and yet neither van nor rear was visible. All

were moving in one and the same direction, except a few

individuals on the outside of the column, which were running

rearward, trotting along for a short distance, and then turning

again to follow the same course as the main body. But these

rearward movements were going on continually from one end to the

other of the line, and there was every appearance of there being

a means of keeping up a common understanding amongst all the

members of the army, for the retrograding ants stopped very often

for a moment to touch one or other of their onward-moving

comrades with their antennae-- a proceeding which has been

noticed in other ants, and supposed to be their mode of conveying

intelligence. When I interfered with the column or abstracted an

individual from it, news of the disturbance was very quickly

communicated to a distance of several yards towards the rear, and

the column at that point commenced retreating. All the small-

headed workers carried in their jaws a little cluster of white

maggots, which I thought at the time, might be young larvae of

their own colony, but afterwards found reason to conclude were

the grubs of some other species whose nests they had been

plundering, the procession being most likely not a migration, but

a column on a marauding expedition.

The position of the large-headed individuals in the marching

column was rather curious. There was one of these extraordinary

fellows to about a score of the smaller class. None of them

carried anything in their mouths, but all trotted along empty-

handed and outside the column, at pretty regular intervals from

each other, like subaltern officers in a marching regiment of

soldiers. It was easy to be tolerably exact in this observation,

for their shining white heads made them very conspicuous amongst

the rest, bobbing up and down as the column passed over the

inequalities of the road. I did not see them change their

position, or take any notice of their small-headed comrades

marching in the column, and when I disturbed the line, they did

not prance forth or show fight so eagerly as the others. These

large-headed members of the community have been considered by

some authors as a soldier class, like the similarly-armed caste

in termites -- but I found no proof of this, at least in the

present species, as they always seemed to be rather less

pugnacious than the worker-minors, and their distorted jaws

disabled them from fastening on a plane surface like the skin of

an attacking animal. I am inclined, however, to think that they

may act, in a less direct way, as protectors of the community,

namely, as indigestible morsels to the flocks of ant-thrushes

which follow the marching columns of these Ecitons, and are the

most formidable enemies of the species. It is possible that the

hooked and twisted jaws of the large-headed class may be

effective weapons of annoyance when in the gizzards or stomachs

of these birds, but I unfortunately omitted to ascertain whether

this was really the fact.

The life of these Ecitons is not all work, for I frequently saw

them very leisurely employed in a way that looked like

recreation. When this happened, the place was always a sunny nook

in the forest. The main column of the army and the branch

columns, at these times, were in their ordinary relative

positions; but, instead of pressing forward eagerly, and

plundering right and left, they seemed to have been all smitten

with a sudden fit of laziness. Some were walking slowly about,

others were brushing their antennae with their forefeet; but the

drollest sight was their cleaning one another. Here and there an

ant was seen stretching forth first one leg and then another, to

be brushed or washed by one or more of its comrades, who

performed the task by passing the limb between the jaws and the

tongue,and finishing by giving the antennae a friendly wipe. It

was a curious spectacle, and one well calculated to increase

one's amazement at the similarity between the instinctive actions

of ants and the acts of rational beings, a similarity which must

have been brought about by two different processes of development

of the primary qualities of mind. The actions of these ants

looked like simple indulgence in idle amusement. Have these

little creatures, then, an excess of energy beyond what is

required for labours absolutely necessary to the welfare of their

species, and do they thus expend it in mere sportiveness, like

young lambs or kittens, or in idle whims like rational beings? It

is probable that these hours of relaxation and cleaning may be

indispensable to the effective performance of their harder

labours, but while looking at them, the conclusion that the ants

were engaged merely in play was irresistible.

Eciton praedator.--This is a small dark-reddish species, very

similar to the common red stinging-ant of England. It differs

from all other Ecitons in its habit of hunting, not in columns,

but in dense phalanxes consisting of myriads of individuals, and

was first met with at Ega, where it is very common. Nothing in

insect movements is more striking than the rapid march of these

large and compact bodies. Wherever they pass all the rest of the

animal world is thrown into a state of alarm. They stream along

the ground and climb to the summits of all the lower trees,

searching every leaf to its apex, and whenever they encounter a

mass of decaying vegetable matter, where booty is plentiful, they

concentrate, like other Ecitons, all their forces upon it, the

dense phalanx of shining and quickly-moving bodies, as it spreads

over the surface, looking like a flood of dark-red liquid. They

soon penetrate every part of the confused heap, and then,

gathering together again in marching order, onward they move. All

soft-bodied and inactive insects fall an easy prey to them, and,

like other Ecitons, they tear their victims in pieces for

facility of carriage. A phalanx of this species, when passing

over a tract of smooth ground, occupies a space of from four to

six square yards; on examining the ants closely they are seen to

move, not altogether in one straightforward direction, but in

variously spreading contiguous columns, now separating a little

from the general mass, now re-uniting with it. The margins of the

phalanx spread out at times like a cloud of skirmishers from the

flanks of an army. I was never able to find the hive of this

species.

Blind Ecitons.--I will now give a short account of the blind

species of Eciton. None of the foregoing kinds have eyes of the

facetted or compound structure such as are usual in insects, and

which ordinary ants (Formica) are furnished with, but all are

provided with organs of vision composed each of a single lens.

Connecting them with the utterly blind species of the genus, is a

very stout-limbed Eciton, the E. crassicornis, whose eyes are

sunk in rather deep sockets. This ant goes on foraging

expeditions like the rest of its tribe, and attacks even the

nests of other stinging species (Myrmica), but it avoids the

light, moving always in concealment under leaves and fallen

branches. When its columns have to cross a cleared space, the

ants construct a temporary covered way with granules of earth,

arched over, and holding together mechanically; under this, the

procession passes in secret, the indefatigable creatures

repairing their arcade as fast as breaches are made in it.

Next in order comes the Eciton vastator, which has no eyes,

although the collapsed sockets are plainly visible; and, lastly,

the Eciton erratica, in which both sockets and eyes have

disappeared, leaving only a faint ring to mark the place where

they are usually situated. The armies of E. vastator and E.

erratica move, as far as I could learn, wholly under covered

roads-- the ants constructing them gradually but rapidly as they

advance. The column of foragers pushes forward step by step under

the protection of these covered passages, through the thickets,

and upon reaching a rotting log, or other promising hunting-

ground, pour into the crevices in search of booty. I have traced

their arcades, occasionally, for a distance of one or two hundred

yards; the grains of earth are taken from the soil over which the

column is passing, and are fitted together without cement. It is

this last-mentioned feature that distinguishes them from the

similar covered roads made by Termites, who use their glutinous

saliva to cement the grains together. The blind Ecitons, working

in numbers, build up simultaneously the sides of their convex

arcades, and contrive, in a surprising manner, to approximate

them and fit in the key-stones without letting the loose

uncemented structure fall to pieces. There was a very clear

division of labour between the two classes of neuters in these

blind species. The large-headed class, although not possessing

monstrously-lengthened jaws like the worker-majors in E. hamata

and E. drepanophora, are rigidly defined in structure from the

small-headed class, and act as soldiers, defending the working

community (like soldier Termites) against all comers. Whenever I

made a breach in one of their covered ways, all the ants

underneath were set in commotion, but the worker-minors remained

behind to repair the damage, while the large-heads issued forth

in a most menacing manner, rearing their heads and snapping their

jaws with an expression of the fiercest rage and defiance.

CHAPTER XIII

EXCURSIONS BEYOND EGA

Steamboat Travelling on the Amazons--Passengers--Tunantins--

Caishana Indians--The Jutahi--The Sapo--Maraua Indians--Fonte

Boa--Journey to St. Paulo--Tucuna Indians--Illness--Descent to

Para--Changes at Para--Departure for England

November 7th, 1856-Embarked on the Upper Amazons steamer, the

Tabatinga, for an excursion to Tunantins, a small semi-Indian

settlement, lying 240 miles beyond Ega. The Tabatinga is an iron

boat of about 170 tons burthen, built at Rio de Janeiro, and

fitted with engines of fifty horse-power. The saloon, with berths

on each side for twenty passengers, is above deck, and open at

both ends to admit a free current of air. The captain or

"commandante," was a lieutenant in the Brazilian navy, a man of

polished, sailor-like address, and a rigid disciplinarian-- his

name, Senor Nunes Mello Cardozo. I was obliged, as usual, to take

with me a stock of all articles of food, except meat and fish,

for the time I intended to be absent (three months); and the

luggage, including hammocks, cooking utensils, crockery, and so

forth, formed fifteen large packages. One bundle consisted of a

mosquito tent, an article I had not yet had occasion to use on

the river, but which was indispensable in all excursions beyond

Ega, every person, man, woman and child, requiring one, as

without it existence would be scarcely possible. My tent was

about eight feet long and five feet broad, and was made of coarse

calico in an oblong shape, with sleeves at each end through which

to pass the cords of a hammock. Under this shelter, which is

fixed up every evening before sundown, one can read and write, or

swing in one's hammock during the long hours which intervene

before bedtime, and feel one's sense of comfort increased by

having cheated the thirsty swarms of mosquitoes which fill the

chamber.

We were four days on the road. The pilot, a Mameluco of Ega, whom

I knew very well, exhibited a knowledge of the river and powers

of endurance which were quite remarkable. He stood all this time

at his post, with the exception of three or four hours in the

middle of each day, when he was relieved by a young man who

served as apprentice, and he knew the breadth and windings of the

channel, and the extent of all the yearly-shifting shoals from

the Rio Negro to Loreto, a distance of more than a thousand

miles. There was no slackening of speed at night, except during

the brief but violent storms which occasionally broke upon us,

and then the engines were stopped by the command of Lieutenant

Nunes, sometimes against the wish of the pilot. The nights were

often so dark that we passengers on the poop deck could not

discern the hardy fellow on the bridge, but the steamer drove on

at full speed, men being stationed on the look-out at the prow,

to watch for floating logs, and one man placed to pass orders to

the helmsman; the keel scraped against a sand-bank only once

during the passage.

The passengers were chiefly Peruvians, mostly thin, anxious,

Yankee-looking men, who were returning home to the cities of

Moyobamba and Chachapoyas, on the Andes, after a trading trip to

the Brazilian towns on the Atlantic seaboard, whither they had

gone six months previously, with cargoes of Panama hats to

exchange for European wares. These hats are made of the young

leaflets of a palm tree, by the Indians and half-caste people who

inhabit the eastern parts of Peru. They form almost the only

article of export from Peru by way of the Amazons, but the money

value is very great compared with the bulk of the goods, as the

hats are generally of very fine quality, and cost from twelve

shillings to six pounds sterling each; some traders bring down

two or three thousand pounds' worth, folded into small compass in

their trunks. The return cargoes consist of hardware, crockery,

glass, and other bulky or heavy goods, but not of cloth, which,

being of light weight, can be carried across the Andes from the

ports on the Pacific to the eastern parts of Peru. All kinds of

European cloth can be obtained at a much cheaper rate by this

route than by the more direct way of the Amazons, the import

duties of Peru being, as I was told, lower than those of Brazil,

and the difference not being counter-balanced by increased

expense of transit, on account of weight, over the passes of the

Andes.

There was a great lack of amusement on board. The table was very

well served, professed cooks being employed in these Amazonian

steamers, and fresh meat insured by keeping on deck a supply of

live bullocks and fowls, which are purchased whenever there is an

opportunity on the road. The river scenery was similar to that

already described as presented between the Rio Negro and Ega:

long reaches of similar aspect, with two long, low lines of

forest, varied sometimes with cliffs of red clay, appearing one

after the other. an horizon of water and sky on some days

limiting the view both up stream and down. We travelled, however,

always near the bank, and, for my part, I was never weary of

admiring the picturesque grouping and variety of trees, and the

varied mantles of creeping plants which clothed the green wall of

forest every step of the way. With the exception of a small

village called Fonte Boa, retired from the main river, where we

stopped to take in firewood, and which I shall have to speak of

presently, we saw no human habitation the whole of the distance.

The mornings were delightfully cool; coffee was served at

sunrise, and a bountiful breakfast at ten o'clock; after that

hour the heat rapidly increased until it became almost

unbearable. How the engine-drivers and firemen stood it without

exhaustion I cannot tell; it diminished after four o'clock in the

afternoon, about which time dinner-bell rung, and the evenings

were always pleasant.

November 11th to 30th.--The Tunantins is a sluggish black-water

stream, about sixty miles in length, and towards its mouth from

100 to 200 yards in breadth. The vegetation on its banks has a

similar aspect to that of the Rio Negro, the trees having small

foliage of a sombre hue, and the dark piles of greenery resting

on the surface of the inky water. The village is situated on the

left bank, about a mile from the mouth of the river, and contains

twenty habitations, nearly all of which are merely hovels, built

of lath-work and mud. The short streets, after rain, are almost

impassable on account of the many puddles, and are choked up with

weeds--leguminous shrubs, and scarlet-flowered asclepias. The

atmosphere in such a place, hedged in as it is by the lofty

forest, and surrounded by swamps, is always close, warm, and

reeking; and the hum and chirp of insects and birds cause a

continual din. The small patch of weedy ground around the village

swarms with plovers, sandpipers, striped herons, and scissor-

tailed fly-catchers; and alligators are always seen floating

lazily on the surface of the river in front of the houses.

On landing, I presented myself to Senor Paulo Bitancourt, a good-

natured half-caste, director of Indians of the neighbouring river

Issa, who quickly ordered a small house to be cleared for me.

This exhilarating abode contained only one room, the walls of

which were disfigured by large and ugly patches of mud, the work

of white ants. The floor was the bare earth, dirty and damp, the

wretched chamber was darkened by a sheet of calico being

stretched over the windows, a plan adopted here to keep out the

Pium-flies, which float about in all shady places like thin

clouds of smoke, rendering all repose impossible in the daytime

wherever they can effect an entrance. My baggage was soon landed,

and before the steamer departed I had taken gun, insect-net, and

game-bag, to make a preliminary exploration of my new locality.

I remained here nineteen days, and, considering the shortness of

the time, made a very good collection of monkeys, birds, and

insects. A considerable number of the species (especially of

insects) were different from those of the four other stations,

which I examined on the south side of the Solimoens, and as many

of these were "representative forms" [Species or races which take

the place of other allied species or races.] of others found on

the opposite banks of the broad river, I concluded that there

could have been no land connection between the two shores during,

at least, the recent geological period. This conclusion is

confirmed by the case of the Uakari monkeys, described in the

last chapter. All these strongly modified local races of insects

confined to one side of the Solimoens (like the Uakaris), are

such as have not been able to cross a wide treeless space such as

a river. The acquisition which pleased me most, in this place,

was a new species of butterfly (a Catagramma), which has since

been named C. excelsior, owing to its surpassing in size and

beauty all the previously-known species of its singularly

beautiful genus. The upper surface of the wings is of the richest

blue, varying in shade with the play of light, and on each side

is a broad curved stripe of an orange colour. It is a bold flyer,

and is not confined, as I afterwards found, to, the northern side

of the river, for I once saw a specimen amidst a number of

richly-coloured butterflies, flying about the deck of the steamer

when we were anchored off Fonte Boa, 200 miles, lower down the

river.

With the exception of three Mameluco families and a stray

Portuguese trader, all the inhabitants of the village and

neighbourhood are semi-civilised Indians of the Shumana and Passe

tribes. The forests of the Tunantins, however, are inhabited by a

tribe of wild Indians called Caishanas, who resemble much, in

their social condition and manners, the debased Muras of the

Lower Amazons, and have, like them, shown no aptitude for

civilised life in any shape. Their huts commence at the distance

of an hour's walk from the village, along gloomy and narrow

forest paths. My first and only visit to a Caishana dwelling was

accidental. One day, having extended my walk further than usual,

and followed one of the forest-roads until it became a mere

picada, or hunters' track, I came suddenly upon a well-trodden

pathway, bordered on each side with Lycopodia of the most elegant

shapes, the tips of the fronds stretching almost like tendrils

down the little earthy slopes which formed the edge of the path.

The road, though smooth, was narrow and dark, and in many places

blocked up by trunks of felled trees, which had been apparently

thrown across by the timid Indians on purpose to obstruct the way

to their habitations. Half-a-mile of this shady road brought me

to a small open space on the banks of a brook or creek, on the

skirts of which stood a conical hut with a very low doorway.

There was also an open shed, with stages made of split palm-

stems, and a number of large wooden troughs. Two or three dark-

skinned children, with a man and woman, were in the shed; but,

immediately on espying me, all of them ran to the hut, bolting

through the little doorway like so many wild animals scared into

their burrows. A few moments after, the man put his head out with

a look of great distrust; but, on my making the most friendly

gestures I could think of, he came forth with the children. They

were all smeared with black mud and paint; the only clothing of

the elders was a kind of apron made of the inner bark of the

sapucaya-tree, and the savage aspect of the man was heightened by

his hair hanging over his forehead to the eyes. I stayed about

two hours in the neighbourhood, the children gaining sufficient

confidence to come and help me to search for insects. The only

weapon used by the Caishanas is the blow-gun, and this is

employed only in shooting animals for food. They are not a

warlike people, like most of the neighbouring tribes on the

Japura and Issa.

The whole tribe of Caishanas does not exceed 400 souls in number.

None of them are baptised Indians, and they do not dwell in

villages, like the more advanced sections of the Tupi stock; but

each family has its own solitary hut. They are quite harmless, do

not practise tattooing, or perforate their ears and noses in any

way. Their social condition is of a low type, very little

removed, indeed, from that of the brutes living in the same

forests. They do not appear to obey any common chief, and I could

not make out that they had Pajes, or medicine-men, those rudest

beginnings of a priest class. Symbolical or masked dances, and

ceremonies in honour of the Jurupari, or demon, customs which

prevail among all the surrounding tribes, are unknown to the

Caishanas. There is among them a trace of festival keeping; but

the only ceremony used is the drinking of cashiri beer, and

fermented liquors made of Indian-corn, bananas, and so forth.

These affairs, however, are conducted in a degenerate style, for

they do not drink to intoxication, or sustain the orgies for

several days and nights in succession, like the Juris Passes, and

Tucunas. The men play a musical instrument, made of pieces of

stem of the arrow-grass cut in different lengths and arranged

like Pan-pipes. With this they wile away whole hours, lolling in

ragged, bast hammocks slung in their dark, smoky huts. The

Tunantins people say that the Caishanas have persecuted the wild

animals and birds to such an extent near their settlements that

there is now quite a scarcity of animal food. If they kill a

Toucan, it is considered an important event, and the bird is made

to serve as a meal for a score or more persons. They boil the

meat in earthenware kettles filled with Tucupi sauce, and eat it

with beiju, or mandioca-cakes. The women are not allowed to taste

of the meat, but forced to content themselves with sopping pieces

of cake in the liquor.

November 30th--I left Tunantins in a trading schooner of eighty

tons burthen belonging to Senor Batalha, a tradesman of Ega,

which had been out all the summer collecting produce, and was

commanded by a friend of mine, a young Paraense, named Francisco

Raiol. We arrived, on the 3rd of December, at the mouth of the

Jutahi, a considerable stream about half a mile broad, and

flowing with a very sluggish current. This is one of the series

of six rivers, from 400 to 1000 miles in length, which flow from

the southwest through unknown lands lying between Bolivia and the

Upper Amazons, and enter this latter river between the Madeira

and the Ucayali. We remained at anchor four days within the mouth

of the Sapo, a small tributary of the Jutahi flowing from the

southeast; Senor Raiol having to send an igarite to the Cupatana,

a large tributary some few miles farther up the river, to fetch a

cargo of salt-fish. During this time we made several excursions

in the montaria to various places in the neighbourhood. Our

longest trip was to some Indian houses, a distance of fifteen or

eighteen miles up the Sapo, a journey made with one Indian

paddler, and occupying a whole day. The stream is not more than

forty or fifty yards broad; its waters are darker in colour than

those of the Jutahi, and flow, as in all these small rivers,

partly under shade between two lofty walls of forest. We passed,

in ascending, seven habitations, most of them hidden in the

luxuriant foliage of the banks; their sites being known only by

small openings in the compact wall of forest, and the presence of

a canoe or two tied up in little shady ports. The inhabitants are

chiefly Indians of the Maraua tribe, whose original territory

comprised all the small by-streams lying between the Jutahi and

the Jurua, near the mouths of both these great tributaries. They

live in separate families or small hordes, have no common chief,

and are considered as a tribe little disposed to adopt civilised

customs or be friendly with the whites. One of the houses

belonged to a Juri family, and we saw the owner, an erect, noble-

looking old fellow, tattooed, as customary with his tribe, in a

large patch over the middle of his face, fishing under the shade

of a colossal tree in his port with hook and line. He saluted us

in the usual grave and courteous manner of the better sort of

Indians as we passed by.

We reached the last house, or rather two houses, about ten

o'clock, and spent several hours there during the great heat of

midday. The houses, which stood. on a high clayey bank, were of

quadrangular shape, partly open like sheds, and partly enclosed

with rude mud-walls, forming one or more chambers. The

inhabitants, a few families of Marauas, comprising about thirty

persons, received us in a frank, smiling manner-- a reception

which may have been due to Senor Raiol being an old acquaintance

and somewhat of a favourite. None of them were tattooed; but the

men had great holes pierced in their earlobes, in which they

insert plugs of wood, and their lips were drilled with smaller

holes. One of the younger men, a fine strapping fellow nearly six

feet high, with a large aquiline nose, who seemed to wish to be

particularly friendly with me, showed me the use of these lip-

holes, by fixing a number of little white sticks in them, and

then twisting his mouth about and going through a pantomime to

represent defiance in the presence of an enemy. Nearly all the

people were disfigured by dark blotches on the skin, the effect

of a cutaneous disease very prevalent in this part of the

country. The face of one old man was completely blackened, and

looked as though it had been smeared with black lead, the

blotches having coalesced to form one large patch. Others were

simply mottled; the black spots were hard and rough, but not

scaly, and were margined with rings of a colour paler than the

natural hue of the skin.

I had seen many Indians and a few half-castes at Tunantins, and

afterwards saw others at Fonte Boa, blotched in the same way. The

disease would seem to be contagious, for I was told that a

Portuguese trader became disfigured with it after cohabiting some

years with an Indian woman. It is curious that, although

prevalent in many places on the Solimoens, no resident of Ega

exhibited signs of the disease: the early explorers of the

country, on noticing spotted skins to be very frequent in certain

localities, thought they were peculiar to a few tribes of

Indians. The younger children in these houses on the Sapo were

free from spots; but two or three of them, about ten years of

age, showed signs of their commencement in rounded yellowish

patches on the skin, and these appeared languid and sickly,

although the blotched adults seemed not to be affected in their

general health. A middle-aged half-caste at Fonte Boa told me he

had cured himself of the disorder by strong doses of

sarsaparilla; the black patches had caused the hair of his beard

and eyebrows to fall off, but it had grown again since his cure.

When my tall friend saw me, after dinner, collecting insects

along the paths near the houses, he approached, and, taking me by

the arm, led me to a mandioca shed, making signs, as he could

speak very little Tupi, that he had something to show. I was not

a little surprised when, having mounted the girao, or stage of

split palm-stems, and taken down an object transfixed to a post,

he exhibited, with an air of great mystery, a large chrysalis

suspended from a leaf, which he placed carefully in my hands,

saying, "Pana-pana curi " (Tupi: butterfly by-and-by). Thus I

found that the metamorphoses of insects were known to these

savages; but being unable to talk with my new friend, I could not

ascertain what ideas such a phenomenon had given rise to in his

mind. The good fellow did not leave my side during the remainder

of our stay; but, thinking apparently that I had come here for

information, he put himself to considerable trouble to give me

all he could. He made a quantity of Hypadu or Coca powder that I

might see the process; going about the task with much action and

ceremony, as though he were a conjuror performing some wonderful

trick.

We left these friendly people about four o'clock in the

afternoon, and in descending the umbrageous river, stopped, about

half-way down, at another house, built in one of the most

charming situations I had yet seen in this country. A clean,

narrow, sandy pathway led from the shady port to the house,

through a tract of forest of indescribable luxuriance. The

buildings stood on an eminence in the middle of a level cleared

space-- the firm sand soil, smooth as a floor, forming a broad

terrace around them. The owner was a semi-civilised Indian, named

Manoel; a dull, taciturn fellow, who, together with his wife and

children, seemed by no means pleased at being intruded on in

their solitude. The family must have been very industrious, for

the plantations were very extensive, and included a little of

almost all kinds of cultivated tropical productions: fruit trees,

vegetables, and even flowers for ornament. The silent old man had

surely a fine appreciation of the beauties of nature, for the

site he had chosen commanded a view of surprising magnificence

over the summits of the forest; and, to give finish to the

prospect, he had planted a large quantity of banana trees in the

foreground, thus concealing the charred and dead stumps which

would otherwise have marred the effect of the rolling sea of

greenery. The only information I could get out of Manoel was,

that large flocks of richly-coloured birds came down in the fruit

season and despoiled his trees. The sun set over the treetops

before we left this little Eden, and the remainder of our journey

was made slowly and pleasantly, under the chequered shades of the

river banks, by the light of the moon.

December 7th--Arrived at Fonte Boa; a wretched, muddy, and

dilapidated village situated two or three miles within the mouth

of a narrow by-stream called the Cayhiar-hy, which runs almost as

straight as an artificial canal between the village and the main

Amazons. The character of the vegetation and soil here was

different from that of all other localities I had hitherto

examined; I had planned, therefore, to devote six weeks to the

place. Having written beforehand to one of the principal

inhabitants, Senor Venancio, a house was ready for me on landing.

The only recommendation of the dwelling was its coolness. It was,

in fact, rather damp; the plastered walls bore a crop of green

mold, and a slimy moisture oozed through the black, dirty floor;

the rooms were large, but lighted by miserable little holes in

place of windows. The village is built on a clayey plateau, and

the ruinous houses are arranged round a large square, which is so

choked up with tangled bushes that it is quite impassable, the

lazy inhabitants having allowed the fine open space to relapse

into jungle. The stiff clayey eminence is worn into deep gullies

which slope towards the river, and the ascent from the port in

rainy weather is so slippery that one is obliged to crawl up to

the streets on all fours. A large tract of round behind the place

is clear of forest, but this, as well as the streets and gardens,

is covered with a dense, tough carpet of shrubs, having the same

wiry nature as our common heath. Beneath its deceitful covering

the soil is always moist and soft, and in the wet season the

whole is converted into a glutinous mud swamp. There is a very

pretty church in one corner of the square, but in the rainy

months of the year (nine out of twelve) the place of worship is

almost inaccessible to the inhabitants on account of the mud, the

only means of getting to it being by hugging closely the walls

and palings, and so advancing sideways step by step.

I remained in this delectable place until the 25th of January,

1857. Fonte Boa, in addition to its other amenities, has the

reputation throughout the country of being the headquarters of

mosquitoes, and it fully deserves the title. They are more

annoying in the houses by day than by night, for they swarm in

the dark and damp rooms, keeping, in the daytime, near the floor,

and settling by half-dozens together on the legs. At night the

calico tent is a sufficient protection; but this is obliged to be

folded every morning, and in letting it down before sunset, great

care is required to prevent even one or two of the tormentors

from stealing in beneath, their insatiable thirst for blood, and

pungent sting, making these enough to spoil all comfort. In the

forest the plague is much worse; but the forest-mosquito belongs

to a different species from that of the town, being much larger,

and having transparent wings; it is a little cloud that one

carries about one's person every step on a woodland ramble, and

their hum is so loud that it prevents one hearing well the notes

of birds. The town-mosquito has opaque speckled wings, a less

severe sting, and a silent way of going to work; the inhabitants

ought to be thankful the big, noisy fellows never come out of the

forest. In compensation for the abundance of mosquitoes, Fonte

Boa has no piums; there was, therefore, some comfort outside

one's door in the daytime; the comfort, however, was lessened by

their being scarcely any room in front of the house to sit down

or walk about, for, on our side of the square, the causeway was

only two feet broad, and to step over the boundary, formed by a

line of slippery stems of palms, was to sink up to the knees in a

sticky swamp.

Notwithstanding damp and mosquitoes, I had capital health, and

enjoyed myself much at Fonte Boa; swampy and weedy places being

generally more healthy than dry ones in the Amazons, probably

owing to the absence of great radiation of heat from the ground.

The forest was extremely rich and picturesque, although the soil

was everywhere clayey and cold, and broad pathways threaded it

for many a mile over hill and dale. In every hollow flowed a

sparkling brook, with perennial and crystal waters. The margins

of these streams were paradises of leafiness and verdure; the

most striking feature being the variety of ferns, with immense

leaves, some terrestrial, others climbing over trees, and two, at

least, arborescent. I saw here some of the largest trees I had

yet seen; there was one especially, a cedar, whose colossal trunk

towered up for more than a hundred feet, straight as an arrow; I

never saw its crown, which was lost to view, from below, beyond

the crowd of lesser trees which surrounded it. Birds and monkeys

in this glorious forest were very abundant; the bear-like

Pithecia hirsuta being the most remarkable of the monkeys, and

the Umbrella Chatterer and Curl-crested Toucans amongst the most

beautiful of the birds. The Indians and half-castes of the

village have made their little plantations, and built huts for

summer residence on the banks of the rivulets, and my rambles

generally terminated at one or other of these places. The people

were always cheerful and friendly, and seemed to be glad when I

proposed to join them at their meals, contributing the contents

of my provision-bag to the dinner, and squatting down among them

on the mat.

The village was formerly a place of more importance than it now

is, a great number of Indians belonging to the most industrious

tribes, Shumanas, Passes, and Cambevas, having settled on the

site and adopted civilised habits, their industry being directed

by a few whites, who seem to have been men of humane views as

well as enterprising traders. One of these old employers, Senor

Guerreiro, a well-educated Paraense, was still trading on the

Amazons when I left the country in 1859: he told me that forty

years previously Fonte Boa was a delightful place to live in. The

neighbourhood was then well cleared, and almost free from

mosquitoes, and the Indians were orderly, industrious, and happy.

What led to the ruin of the settlement was the arrival of several

Portuguese and Brazilian traders of a low class, who in their

eagerness for business taught the easy-going Indians all kinds of

trickery and immorality. They enticed the men and women away from

their old employers, and thus broke up the large establishments,

compelling the principals to take their capital to other places.

At the time of my visit there were few pure-blood Indians at

Fonte Boa, and no true whites. The inhabitants seemed to be

nearly all Mamelucos, and were a loose-living, rustic, plain-

spoken and ignorant set of people. There was no priest or

schoolmaster within 150 miles, and had not been any for many

years: the people seemed to be almost without government of any

kind, and yet crime and deeds of violence appeared to be of very

rare occurrence. The principal man of the village, one Senor

Justo, was a big, coarse, energetic fellow, sub-delegado of

police, and the only tradesman who owned a large vessel running

directly between Fonte Boa and Para. He had recently built a

large house, in the style of middle-class dwellings of towns,

namely, with brick floors and tiled roof, the bricks and tiles

having been brought from Para, 1500 miles distant, the nearest

place where they are manufactured in surplus. When Senor Justo

visited me he was much struck with the engravings in a file of

Illustrated London News, which lay on my table. It was impossible

to resist his urgent entreaties to let him have some of them, "to

look at," so one day he carried off a portion of the papers on

loan. A fortnight afterwards, on going to request him to return

them, I found the engravings had been cut out, and stuck all over

the newly whitewashed walls of his chamber, many of them upside

down. He thought a room thus decorated with foreign views would

increase his importance among his neighbours, and when I yielded

to his wish to keep them, was boundless in demonstrations of

gratitude, ending by shipping a boat-load of turtles for my use

at Ega.

These neglected and rude villagers still retained many religious

practices which former missionaries or priests had taught them.

The ceremony which they observed at Christmas, like that

described as practised by negroes in a former chapter, was very

pleasing for its simplicity, and for the heartiness with which it

was conducted. The church was opened, dried, and swept clean a

few days before Christmas Eve, and on the morning all the women

and children of the village were busy decorating it with festoons

of leaves and wild flowers. Towards midnight it was illuminated

inside and out with little oil lamps, made of clay, and the image

of the "menino Deus," or Child-God, in its cradle, was placed

below the altar, which was lighted up with rows of wax candles,

very lean ones, but the best the poor people could afford. All

the villagers assembled soon afterwards, dressed in their best,

he women with flowers in their hair, and a few simple hymns,

totally irrelevant to the occasion, but probably the only ones

known by them, were sung kneeling; an old half-caste, with black-

spotted face, leading off the tunes. This finished, the

congregation rose, and then marched in single file up one side of

the church and down the other, singing together a very pretty

marching chorus, and each one, on reaching the little image,

stooping to kiss the end of a ribbon which was tied round its

waist. Considering that the ceremony was got up of their own free

will, and at considerable expense, I thought it spoke well for

the good intentions and simplicity of heart of these poor,

neglected villagers.

I left Fonte Boa, for Ega, on the 25th of January, making the

passage by steamer, down the middle of the current, in sixteen

hours. The sight of the clean and neat little town, with its open

spaces, close-cropped grass, broad lake, and white sandy shores,

had a most exhilarating effect, after my trip into the wilder

parts of the country. The district between Ega and Loreto, the

first Peruvian village on the river, is, indeed, the most remote,

thinly-peopled, and barbarous of the whole line of the Amazons,

from ocean to ocean. Beyond Loreto, signs of civilisation, from

the side of the Pacific, begin to be numerous, and, from Ega

downwards, the improvement is felt from the side of the Atlantic.

September 5th, 1857--Again embarked on the Tabatinga, this time

for a longer excursion than the last, namely to St. Paulo de

Olivenca, a village higher up than any I had yet visited, being

260 miles distant, in a straight line, from Ega, or about 400

miles following the bends of the river.

The waters were now nearly at their lowest point; but this made

no difference to the rate of travelling, night or day. Several of

the Parana mirims, or by-channels, which the steamer threads in

the season of full-water, to save a long circuit, were now dried

up, their empty beds looking like deep sandy ravines in the midst

of the thick forest. The large sand-islands, and miles of sandy

beach, were also uncovered, and these, with the swarms of large

aquatic birds; storks, herons, ducks, waders, and spoon-bills,

which lined their margins in certain places, made the river view

much more varied and animated than it is in the season of the

flood. Alligators of large size were common near the shores,

lazily floating, and heedless of the passing steamer. The

passengers amused themselves by shooting at them from the deck

with a double-barrelled rifle we had on board. The sign of a

mortal hit was the monster turning suddenly over, and remaining

floating, with its white belly upwards. Lieutenant Nunes wished

to have one of the dead animals on board, for the purpose of

opening the abdomen, and, if a male, extracting a part which is

held in great estimation among Brazilians as a "remedio," charm

or medicine. The steamer was stopped, and a boat sent, with four

strong men, to embark the beast; the body, however, was found too

heavy to be lifted into the boat; so a rope was passed round it,

and the hideous creature towed alongside, and hoisted on deck by

means of the crane, which was rigged for the purpose. It had

still some sparks of life, and when the knife was applied, lashed

its tail, and opened its enormous jaws, sending the crowd of

bystanders flying in all directions. A blow with a hatchet on the

crown of the head gave him his quietus at last. The length of the

animal was fifteen feet; but this statement can give but an

imperfect idea of its immense bulk and weight. The numbers of

turtles which were seen swimming in quiet shoaly bays passed on

the road, also gave us much amusement. They were seen by dozens

ahead, with their snouts peering above the surface of the water;

and, on the steamer approaching, turning round to stare, but not

losing confidence till the vessel had nearly passed, when they

appeared to be suddenly smitten with distrust, diving like ducks

under the stream.

We had on board, among our deck-passengers, a middle-aged Indian,

of the Juri tribe; a short, thickset man, with features

resembling much those of the late Daniel O'Connell. His name was

Caracara-i (Black Eagle), and his countenance seemed permanently

twisted into a grim smile, the effect of which was heightened by

the tattooed marks--a blue rim to the mouth, with a diagonal

pointed streak from each corner towards the ear. He was dressed

in European-style black hat, coat, and trousers--looking very

uncomfortable in the dreadful heat which, it is unnecessary to

say, exists on board a steamer, under a vertical sun, during mid-

day hours. This Indian was a man of steady resolution, ambitious

and enterprising; very rare qualities in the race to which he

belonged, weakness of resolution being one of the fundamental

defects in the Indian character. He was now on his return home to

the banks of the Issa from Para, whither he had been to sell a

large quantity of sarsaparilla that he had collected, with the

help of a number of Indians, whom he induces, or forces, to work

for him. One naturally feels inclined to know what ideas such a

favourable specimen of the Indian race may have acquired after so

much experience amongst civilised scenes. On conversing with our

fellow-passenger, I was greatly disappointed in him; he had seen

nothing, and thought of nothing, beyond what concerned his little

trading speculation, his mind being, evidently, what it had been

before, with regard to all higher subjects or general ideas, a

blank. The dull, mean, practical way of thinking of the Amazonian

Indians, and the absence of curiosity and speculative thought

which seems to be organic or confirmed in their character,

although they are improvable to a certain extent, make them, like

commonplace people everywhere, most uninteresting companions.

Caracara-i disembarked at Tunantins with his cargo, which

consisted of a considerable number of packages of European wares.

The river scenery about the mouth of the Japura is extremely

grand, and was the subject of remark among the passengers.

Lieutenant Nunes gave it as his opinion, that there was no

diminution of width or grandeur in the mighty stream up to this

point, a distance of 1500 miles from the Atlantic; and yet we did

not here see the two shores of the river on both sides at once;

lines of islands, or tracts of alluvial land, having by-channels

in the rear, intercepting the view of the northern mainland, and

sometimes also of the southern. Beyond the Issa, however, the

river becomes evidently narrower, being reduced to an average

width of about a mile; there were then no longer those

magnificent reaches, with blank horizons, which occur lower down.

We had a dark and rainy night after passing Tunantins, and the

passengers were all very uneasy on account of the speed at which

we were travelling, twelve miles an hour, with every plank

vibrating with the force of the engines. Many of them could not

sleep, myself among the number. At length, a little after

midnight, a sudden shout startled us: "Back her!" (English terms

being used in matters relating to steam-engines). The pilot

instantly sprung to the helm, and in a few moments we felt our

paddle-box brushing against the wall of forest into which we had

nearly driven headlong. Fortunately, the water was deep close up

to the bank. Early in the morning of the 10th of September we

anchored in the port of St. Paulo, after five days' quick

travelling from Ega.

St. Paulo is built on a high hill, on the southern bank of the

river. The hill is formed of the same Tabatinga clay, which

occurs at intervals over the whole valley of the Amazons, but

nowhere rises to so great an elevation as here, the height being

about 100 feet above the mean level of the river. The ascent from

the port is steep and slippery; steps and resting-places have

been made to lighten the fatigue of mounting, otherwise the

village would be almost inaccessible, especially to porters of

luggage and cargo, for there are no means of making a circuitous

road of more moderate slope, the hill being steep on all sides,

and surrounded by dense forests and swamps. The place contains

about 500 inhabitants, chiefly half-castes and Indians of the

Tucuna and Collina tribes, who are very little improved from

their primitive state. The streets are narrow, and in rainy

weather inches deep in mud; many houses are of substantial

structure, but in a ruinous condition, and the place altogether

presents the appearance, like Fonte Boa, of having seen better

days. Signs of commerce, such as meet the eye at Ega, could

scarcely be expected in this remote spot, situate 1800 miles, or

seven months' round voyage by sailing-vessels, from Para, the

nearest market for produce. A very short experience showed that

the inhabitants were utterly debased, the few Portuguese and

other immigrants having, instead of promoting industry, adopted

the lazy mode of life of the Indians, spiced with the practice of

a few strong vices of their own introduction.

The head-man of the village, Senor Antonio Ribeiro, half-white

half-Tucuna, prepared a house for me on landing, and introduced

me to the principal people. The summit of the hill is grassy

table-land, of two or three hundred acres in extent. The soil is

not wholly clay, but partly sand and gravel; the village itself,

however, stands chiefly on clay, and the streets therefore after

heavy rains, become filled with muddy puddles. On damp nights the

chorus of frogs and toads which swarm in weedy back-yards creates

such a bewildering uproar that it is impossible to carry on a

conversation indoors except by shouting. My house was damper even

than the one I occupied at Fonte Boa, and this made it extremely

difficult to keep my collections from being spoilt by mould. But

the general humidity of the atmosphere in this part of the river

was evidently much greater than it is lower down; it appears to

increase gradually in ascending from the Atlantic to the Andes.

It was impossible at St. Paulo to keep salt for many days in a

solid state, which was not the case at Ega, when the baskets in

which it is contained were well wrapped in leaves. Six degrees

further westward, namely, at the foot of the Andes, the dampness

of the climate of the Amazonian forest region appears to reach

its acme, for Poeppig found at Chinchao that the most refined

sugar, in a few days, dissolved into syrup, and the best

gunpowder became liquid, even when enclosed in canisters. At St.

Paulo refined sugar kept pretty well in tin boxes, and I had no

difficulty in keeping my gunpowder dry in canisters, although a

gun loaded overnight could very seldom be fired off in the

morning.

The principal residents at St. Paulo were the priest, a white

from Para, who spent his days and most of his nights in gambling

and rum-drinking, corrupting the young fellows and setting the

vilest example to the Indians; the sub-delegado, an upright,

open-hearted, and loyal negro, whom I have before mentioned,

Senor Jose Patricio; the Juiz de Paz, a half-caste named Geraldo,

and lastly, Senor Antonio Ribeiro, who was Director of the

Indians. Geraldo and Ribeiro were my near neighbours, but they

took offence at me after the first few days, because I would not

join them in their drinking bouts, which took place about every

third day. They used to begin early in the morning with Cashaca

mixed with grated ginger, a powerful drink, which used to excite

them almost to madness. Neighbour Geraldo, after these morning

potations, used to station himself opposite my house and rave

about foreigners, gesticulating in a threatening manner towards

me by the hour. After becoming sober in the evening, he usually

came to offer me the humblest apologies, driven to it, I believe,

by his wife, he himself being quite unconscious of this breach of

good manners. The wives of the St. Paulo worthies, however, were

generally as bad as their husbands; nearly all the women being

hard drinkers, and corrupt to the last degree. Wifebeating

naturally flourished under such a state of things. I found it

always best to lock myself indoors after sunset, and take no

notice of the thumps and screams which used to rouse the village

in different quarters throughout the night, especially at

festival times.

The only companionable man I found in the place, except Jose

Patricio, who was absent most part of the time, was the negro

tailor of the village, a tall, thin, grave young man, named

Mestre Chico (Master Frank), whose acquaintance I had made at

Para several years previously. He was a free negro by birth, but

had had the advantage of kind treatment in his younger days,

having been brought up by a humane and sensible man, one Captain

Basilio, of Pernambuco, his padrinho, or godfather. He neither

drank, smoked, nor gambled, and was thoroughly disgusted at the

depravity of all classes in this wretched little settlement,

which he intended to quit as soon as possible.

When he visited me at night he used to knock at my shutters in a

manner we had agreed on, it being necessary to guard against

admitting drunken neighbours, and we then spent the long evenings

most pleasantly, working and conversing. His manners were

courteous, and his talk well worth listening to, for the

shrewdness and good sense of his remarks. I first met Mestre

Chico at the house of an old negress of Para, Tia Rufina (Aunt

Rufina), who used to take charge of my goods when I was absent on

a voyage, and this affords me an opportunity of giving a few

further instances of the excellent qualities of free negroes in a

country where they are not wholly condemned to a degrading

position by the pride or selfishness of the white race. This old

woman was born a slave, but, like many others in the large towns

of Brazil, she had been allowed to trade on her own account, as

market-woman, paying a fixed sum daily to her owner, and keeping

for herself all her surplus gains. In a few years she had saved

sufficient money to purchase her freedom, and that of her grown-

up son. This done, the old lady continued to strive until she had

earned enough to buy the house in which she lived, a considerable

property situated in one of the principal streets. When I

returned from the interior, after seven years' absence from Para,

I found she was still advancing in prosperity, entirely through

her own exertions (being a widow) and those of her son, who

continued, with the most regular industry, his trade as

blacksmith, and was now building a number of small houses on a

piece of unoccupied land attached to her property. I found these

and many other free negroes most trustworthy people, and admired

the constancy of their friendships and the gentleness and

cheerfulness of their manners towards each other. They showed

great disinterestedness in their dealings with me, doing me many

a piece of service without a hint at remuneration; but this may

have been partly due to the name of Englishman, the knowledge of

our national generosity towards the African race being spread far

and wide amongst the Brazilian negroes.

I remained at St. Paulo five months; five years would not have

been sufficient to exhaust the treasures of its neighbourhood in

Zoology and Botany. Although now a forest-rambler of ten years'

experience, the beautiful forest which surrounds this settlement

gave me as much enjoyment as if I had only just landed for the

first time in a tropical country. The plateau on which the

village is built extends on one side nearly a mile into the

forest, but on the other side the descent into the lowland begins

close to the streets; the hill sloping abruptly towards a boggy

meadow surrounded by woods, through which a narrow winding path

continues the slope down to a cool shady glen, with a brook of

icy-cold water flowing at the bottom. At mid-day the vertical sun

penetrates into the gloomy depths of this romantic spot, lighting

up the leafy banks of the rivulet and its clean sandy margins,

where numbers of scarlet, green, and black tanagers and brightly-

coloured butterflies sport about in the stray beams. Sparkling

brooks, large and small, traverse the glorious forest in almost

every direction, and one is constantly meeting, while rambling

through the thickets, with trickling rills and bubbling springs,

so well-provided is the country with moisture. Some of the

rivulets flow over a sandy and pebbly bed, and the banks of all

are clothed with the most magnificent vegetation conceivable. I

had the almost daily habit, in my solitary walks, of resting on

the clean banks of these swift-flowing streams, and bathing for

an hour at a time in their bracing waters; hours which now remain

among my most pleasant memories. The broad forest roads continue,

as I was told, a distance of several days' journey into the

interior, which is peopled by Tucunas and other Indians, living

in scattered houses and villages nearly in their primitive state,

the nearest village lying about six miles from St. Paulo. The

banks of all the streams are dotted with palm-thatched dwellings

of Tucunas, all half-buried in the leafy wilderness, the

scattered families having chosen the coolest and shadiest nooks

for their abodes.

I frequently heard in the neighbourhood of these huts, the

"realejo" or organ bird (Cyphorhinus cantans), the most

remarkable songster, by far, of the Amazonian forests. When its

singular notes strike the ear for the first time, the impression

cannot be resisted that they are produced by a human voice. Some

musical boy must be gathering fruit in the thickets, and is

singing a few notes to cheer himself. The tones become more fluty

and plaintive; they are now those of a flageolet, and

notwithstanding the utter impossibility of the thing, one is for

the moment convinced that somebody is playing that instrument. No

bird is to be seen, however closely the surrounding trees and

bushes may be scanned, and yet the voice seems to come from the

thicket close to one's ears. The ending of the song is rather

disappointing. It begins with a few very slow and mellow notes,

following each other like the commencement of an air; one listens

expecting to hear a complete strain, but an abrupt pause occurs,

and then the song breaks down, finishing with a number of

clicking unmusical sounds like a piping barrel organ out of wind

and tune. I never heard the bird on the Lower Amazon, and very

rarely heard it even at Ega; it is the only songster which makes

an impression on the natives, who sometimes rest their paddles

whilst travelling in their small canoes, along the shady by-

streams, as if struck by the mysterious sounds.

The Tucuna Indians are a tribe resembling much the Shumanas,

Passes, Juris, and Mauhes in their physical appearance and

customs. They lead, like those tribes, a settled agricultural

life, each horde obeying a chief of more or less influence,

according to his energy and ambition, and possessing its paje or

medicine-man who fosters its superstitions; but, they are much

more idle and debauched than other Indians belonging to the

superior tribes. They are not so warlike and loyal as the

Mundurucus, although resembling them in many respects, nor have

they the slender figures, dignified mien, and gentle disposition

of the Passes; there are, however, no trenchant points of

difference to distinguish them from these highest of all the

tribes. Both men and women are tattooed, the pattern being

sometimes a scroll on each cheek, but generally rows of short

straight lines on the face. Most of the older people wear

bracelets, anklets, and garters of tapir-hide or tough bark; in

their homes they wear no other dress except on festival days,

when they ornament themselves with feathers or masked cloaks made

of the inner bark of a tree. They were very shy when I made my

first visits to their habitations in the forest, all scampering

off to the thicket when I approached, but on subsequent days they

became more familiar, and I found them a harmless, good-natured

people.

A great part of the horde living at the first Maloca or village

dwell in a common habitation, a large oblong hut built and

arranged inside with such a disregard of all symmetry that it

appeared as though constructed by a number of hands, each working

independently, stretching a rafter or fitting in a piece of

thatch, without reference to what his fellow-labourers were

doing. The walls as well as the roof are covered with thatch of

palm leaves-- each piece consisting of leaflets plaited and

attached in a row to a lath many feet in length. Strong upright

posts support the roof, hammocks being slung between them,

leaving a free space for passage and for fires in the middle, and

on one side is an elevated stage (girao) overhead, formed of

split palm-stems. The Tucunas excel over most of the other tribes

in the manufacture of pottery. They make broad-mouthed jars for

Tucupi sauce, caysuma or mandioca beer, capable of holding twenty

or more gallons, ornamenting them outside with crossed diagonal

streaks of various colours. These jars, with cooking-pots,

smaller jars for holding water, blow-guns, quivers, matiri bags

[These bags are formed of remarkably neat twine made of Bromelia

fibres elaborately knitted, all in one piece, with sticks; a belt

of the same material, but more closely woven, being attached to

the top to suspend them by. They afford good examples of the

mechanical ability of these Indians. The Tucunas also possess the

art of skinning and stuffing birds, the handsome kinds of which

they sell in great numbers to passing travellers.] full of small

articles, baskets, skins of animals, and so forth, form the

principal part of the furniture of their huts both large and

small. The dead bodies of their chiefs are interred, the knees

doubled up, in large jars under the floors of their huts.

The semi-religious dances and drinking bouts usual among the

settled tribes of Amazonian Indians are indulged in to greater

excess by the Tucunas than they are by most other tribes. The

Jurupari or Demon is the only superior being they have any

conception of, and his name is mixed up with all their

ceremonies, but it is difficult to ascertain what they consider

to be his attributes. He seems to be believed in simply as a

mischievous imp, who is at the bottom of all those mishaps of

their daily life, the causes of which are not very immediate or

obvious to their dull understandings. It is vain to try to get

information out of a Tucuna on this subject; they affect great

mystery when the name is mentioned, and give very confused

answers to questions: it was clear, however, that the idea of a

spirit as a beneficent God or Creator had not entered the minds

of these Indians. There is great similarity in all their

ceremonies and mummeries, whether the object is a wedding, the

celebration of the feast of fruits, the plucking of the hair from

the heads of their children, or a holiday got up simply out of a

love of dissipation. Some of the tribe on these occasions deck

themselves with the bright-coloured feathers of parrots and

macaws. The chief wears a headdress or cap made by fixing the

breast-feathers of the Toucan on a web of Bromelia twine, with

erect tail plumes of macaws rising from the crown. The cinctures

of the arms and legs are also then ornamented with bunches of

feathers. Others wear masked dresses; these are long cloaks

reaching below the knee, and made of the thick whitish-coloured

inner bark of a tree, the fibres of which are interlaced in so

regular a manner that the material looks like artificial cloth.

The cloak covers the head; two holes are cut out for the eyes, a

large round piece of the cloth stretched on a rim of flexible

wood is stitched on each side to represent cars, and the features

are painted in exaggerated style with yellow, red, and black

streaks. The dresses are sewn into the proper shapes with thread

made of the inner bark of the Uaissima tree. Sometimes grotesque

head-dresses, representing monkeys' busts or heads of other

animals, made by stretching cloth or skin over a basketwork

frame, are worn at these holidays. The biggest and ugliest mask

represents the Jurupari. In these festival habiliments the

Tucunas go through their monotonous see-saw and stamping dances

accompanied by singing and drumming, and keep up the sport often

for three or four days and nights in succession, drinking

enormous quantities of caysuma, smoking tobacco, and snuffing

parica powder.

I could not learn that there was any deep symbolical meaning in

these masked dances, or that they commemorated any past event in

the history of the tribe. Some of them seem vaguely intended as a

propitiation of the Jurupari, but the masker who represents the

demon sometimes gets drunk along with the rest, and is not

treated with any reverence. From all I could make out, these

Indians preserve no memory of events going beyond the times of

their fathers or grandfathers. Almost every joyful event is made

the occasion of a festival-- weddings among the best. A young man

who wishes to wed a Tucuna girl has to demand her hand of her

parents, who arrange the rest of the affair, and fix a day for

the marriage ceremony. A wedding which took place in the

Christmas week while I was at St. Paulo was kept up with great

spirit for three or four days, flagging during the heats of mid-

day, but renewing itself with increased vigour every evening.

During the whole time the bride, decked out with feather

ornaments, was under the charge of the older squaws whose

business seemed to be, sedulously, to keep the bridegroom at a

safe distance until the end of the dreary period of dancing and

boosing. The Tucunas have the singular custom, in common with the

Collinas and Mauhes, of treating their young girls, on their

showing the first signs of womanhood, as if they had committed

some crime. They are sent up to the girao under the smoky and

filthy roof, and kept there on very meagre diet, sometimes for a

whole month. I heard of one poor girl dying under this treatment.

The only other tribe of this neighbourhood concerning which I

obtained any information were the Majeronas, whose territory

embraces several hundred miles of the western bank of the river

Jauari, an affluent of the Solimoens, 120 miles beyond St. Paulo.

These are a fierce, indomitable, and hostile people, like the

Araras of the river Madeira; they are also cannibals. The

navigation of the Jauari is rendered impossible on account of the

Majeronas lying in wait on its banks to intercept and murder all

travellers, especially whites.

Four months before my arrival at St. Paulo, two young half-castes

(nearly white) of the village went to trade on the Jauari; the

Majeronas having shown signs of abating their hostility for a

year or two previously. They had not been long gone, when their

canoe returned with the news that the two young fellows had been

shot with arrows, roasted, and eaten by the savages. Jose

Patricio, with his usual activity in the cause of law and order,

despatched a party of armed men of the National Guard to the

place to make inquiries, and, if the murder should appear to be

unprovoked, to retaliate. When they reached the settlement of the

horde who had eaten the two men, it was found evacuated, with the

exception of one girl, who had been in the woods when the rest of

her people had taken flight, and whom the guards brought with

them to St. Paulo. It was gathered from her, and from other

Indians on the Jauari, that the young men had brought their fate

on themselves through improper conduct towards the Majerona

women. The girl, on arriving at St. Paulo, was taken care of by

Senor Jose Patricio, baptised under the name of Maria, and taught

Portuguese. I saw a good deal of her, for my friend sent her

daily to my house to fill the water-jars, make the fire, and so

forth. I also gained her goodwill by extracting the grub of an

Oestrus fly from her back, and thus cured her of a painful

tumour. She was decidedly the best-humoured and, to all

appearance, the kindest-hearted specimen of her race I had yet

seen. She was tall and very stout; in colour much lighter than

the ordinary Indian tint, and her ways altogether were more like

those of a careless, laughing country wench, such as might be met

with any day amongst the labouring class in villages in our own

country, than a cannibal. I heard this artless maiden relate, in

the coolest manner possible, how she ate a portion of the bodies

of the young men whom her tribe had roasted. But what increased

greatly the incongruity of this business, the young widow of one

of the victims, a neighbour of mine, happened to be present

during the narrative, and showed her interest in it by laughing

at the broken Portuguese in which the girl related the horrible

story.

In the fourth month of my sojourn at St. Paulo I had a serious

illness, an attack of the "sizoens," or ague of the country,

which, as it left me with shattered health and damped enthusiasm,

led to my abandoning the plan I had formed of proceeding to the

Peruvian towns of Pebas and Moyobamba, 250 and 600 miles further

west, and so completing the examination of the Natural History of

the Amazonian plains up to the foot of the Andes. I made a very

large collection at St. Paulo, and employed a collector at

Tabatinga and on the banks of the Jauari for several months, so

that I acquired a very fair knowledge altogether of the

productions of the country bordering the Amazons to the end of

the Brazilian territory, a distance of 1900 miles from the

Atlantic at the mouth of the Para; but beyond the Peruvian

boundary I found now I should be unable to go. My ague seemed to

be the culmination of a gradual deterioration of health, which

had been going on for several years. I had exposed myself too

much in the sun, working to the utmost of my strength six days a

week, and had suffered much, besides, from bad and insufficient

food. The ague did not exist at St. Paulo but the foul and humid

state of the village was, perhaps, sufficient to produce ague in

a person much weakened from other causes. The country bordering

the shores of the Solimoens is healthy throughout; some endemic

diseases certainly exist, but these are not of a fatal nature,

and the epidemics which desolated the Lower Amazons from Para to

the Rio Negro, between the years 1850 and 1856, had never reached

this favoured land. Ague is known only on the banks of those

tributary streams which have dark-coloured water.

I always carried a stock of medicines with me; and a small phial

of quinine, which I had bought at Para in 1851, but never yet had

use for, now came in very useful. I took for each dose as much as

would lie on the tip of a penknife-blade, mixing it with warm

camomile tea. The first few days after my first attack I could

not stir, and was delirious during the paroxysms of fever; but

the worst being over, I made an effort to rouse myself, knowing

that incurable disorders of the liver and spleen follow ague in

this country if the feeling of lassitude is too much indulged. So

every morning I shouldered my gun or insect-net, and went my

usual walk in the forest. The fit of shivering very often seized

me before I got home, and I then used to stand still and brave it

out. When the steamer ascended in January, 1858, Lieutenant Nunes

was shocked to see me so much shattered, and recommended me

strongly to return at once to Ega. I took his advice, and

embarked with him, when he touched at St. Paulo on his downward

voyage, on the 2nd of February. I still hoped to be able to turn

my face westward again, to gather the yet unseen treasures of the

marvellous countries lying between Tabatinga and the slopes of

the Andes; but although, after a short rest in Ega, the ague left

me, my general health remained in a state too weak to justify the

undertaking of further journeys. At length I left Ega, on the 3rd

of February, 1859, en route for England.

I arrived at Para on the 17th of March, after an absence in the

interior of seven years and a half. My old friends, English,

American, and Brazilian, scarcely knew me again, but all gave me

a very warm welcome, especially Mr. G. R. Brocklehurst (of the

firm of R. Singlehurst and Co., the chief foreign merchants, who

had been my correspondents), who received me into his house, and

treated me with the utmost kindness. I was rather surprised at

the warm appreciation shown by many of the principal people of my

labours; but, in fact, the interior of the country is still the

"sertao" (wilderness)--a terra incognita to most residents of the

seaport--and a man who had spent seven years and a half in

exploring it solely with scientific aims was somewhat of a

curiosity. I found Para greatly changed and improved. It was no

longer the weedy, ruinous, village-looking place that it appeared

to be when I first knew it in 1848. The population had been

increased to 20,000 by an influx of Portuguese, Madeiran, and

German immigrants, and for many years past the provincial

government had spent their considerable surplus revenue in

beautifying the city. The streets, formerly unpaved or strewn

with loose stones and sand, were now laid with concrete in a most

complete manner, all the projecting masonry of the irregularly-

built houses had been cleared away, and the buildings made more

uniform. Most of the dilapidated houses were replaced by handsome

new edifices, having long and elegant balconies fronting the

first floors, at an elevation of several feet above the roadway.

The large, swampy squares had been drained, weeded, and planted

with rows of almond and casuarina trees, so that they were now a

great ornament to the city, instead of an eyesore as they

formerly were. My old favourite road, the Monguba avenue, had

been renovated and joined to many other magnificent rides lined

with trees, which in a very few years had grown to a height

sufficient to afford agreeable shade; one of these, the Estrada

de Sao Jose, had been planted with cocoa-nut palms. Sixty public

vehicles, light cabriolets (some of them built in Para), now

plied in the streets, increasing much the animation of the

beautified squares, streets, and avenues.

I found also the habits of the people considerably changed. Many

of the old religious holidays had declined in importance, and

given way to secular amusements--social parties, balls, music,

billiards, and so forth. There was quite as much pleasure seeking

as formerly, but it was turned in a more rational direction, and

the Paraenses seemed now to copy rather the customs of the

northern nations of Europe than those of the mother country,

Portugal. I was glad to see several new booksellers' shops, and

also a fine edifice devoted to a reading-room supplied with

periodicals, globes, and maps, and a circulating library. There

were now many printing-offices, and four daily newspapers. The

health of the place had greatly improved since 1850, the year of

the yellow fever, and Para was now considered no longer dangerous

to newcomers.

So much for the improvements visible in the place, and now for

the dark side of the picture. The expenses of living had

increased about fourfold, a natural consequence of the demand for

labour and for native products of all kinds having augmented in

greater ratio than the supply, through large arrivals of

nonproductive residents, and considerable importations of money

on account of the steamboat company and foreign merchants. Para,

in 1848, was one of the cheapest places of residence on the

American continent; it was now one of the dearest. Imported

articles of food, clothing, and furniture were mostly cheaper,

although charged with duties varying from 18 to 80 percent,

besides high freights and large profits, than those produced in

the neighbourhood. Salt codfish was twopence per pound cheaper

than the vile salt pirarucu of the country. Oranges, which could

formerly be had almost gratis, were now sold in the streets at

the rate of three for a penny; large bananas were a penny each;

tomatoes were from two to three pence each, and all other fruits

in this fruit-producing country had advanced in like proportion.

Mandioca-meal, the bread of the country, had become so scarce and

dear and bad that the poorer classes of natives suffered famine,

and all who could afford it were obliged to eat wheaten bread at

fourpence to fivepence per pound, made from American flour, 1200

barrels of which were consumed monthly; this was now, therefore,

a very serious item of daily expense to all but the most wealthy.

House rent was most exorbitant; a miserable little place of two

rooms, without fixtures or conveniences of any kind, having

simply blank walls' cost at the rate of £18 sterling a year.

Lastly, the hire of servants was beyond the means of all persons

in moderate circumstances--a lazy cook or porter could not be had

for less than three or four shillings a day, besides his board

and what he could steal. It cost me half-a-crown for the hire of

a small boat and one man to disembark from the steamer, a

distance of 100 yards.

In rambling over my old ground in the forests of the

neighbourhood, I found great changes had taken place--to me,

changes for the worse. The mantle of shrubs, bushes, and creeping

plants which formerly, when the suburbs were undisturbed by axe

or spade, had been left free to arrange itself in rich, full, and

smooth sheets and masses over the forest borders, had been nearly

all cut away, and troops of labourers were still employed cutting

ugly muddy roads for carts and cattle, through the once clean and

lonely woods. Houses and mills had been erected on the borders of

these new roads. The noble forest-trees had been cut down, and

their naked, half-burnt stems remained in the midst of ashes,

muddy puddles, and heaps of broken branches. I was obliged to

hire a negro boy to show me the way to my favourite path near

Una, which I have described in the second chapter of this

narrative; the new clearings having quite obliterated the old

forest roads. Only a few acres of the glorious forest near Una

now remained in their natural state. On the other side of the

city, near the old road to the rice mills, several scores of

woodsmen were employed under Government, in cutting a broad

carriage-road through the forest to Maranham, the capital of the

neighbouring province, distant 250 miles from Para, and this had

entirely destroyed the solitude of the grand old forest path. In

the course of a few years, however, a new growth of creepers will

cover the naked treetrunks on the borders of this new road, and

luxuriant shrubs form a green fringe to the path: it will then

become as beautiful a woodland road as the old one was. A

naturalist will have, henceforward, to go farther from the city

to find the glorious forest scenery which lay so near in 1848,

and work much more laboriously than was formerly needed to make

the large collections which Mr. Wallace and I succeeded in doing

in the neighbourhood of Para.

June 2, 1859--At length, on the 2nd of June, I left Para,

probably forever; embarking in a North American trading-vessel,

the Frederick Demming, for New York, the United States route

being the quickest as well as the pleasantest way of reaching

England. My extensive private collections were divided into three

portions and sent by three separate ships, to lessen the risk of

loss of the whole. On the evening of the 3rd of June, I took a

last view of the glorious forest for which I had so much love,

and to explore which I had devoted so many years. The saddest

hours I ever recollect to have spent were those of the succeeding

night when, the Mameluco pilot having left us free of the shoals

and out of sight of land though within the mouth of the river at

anchor waiting for the wind, I felt that the last link which

connected me with the land of so many pleasing recollections was

broken. The Paraenses, who are fully aware of the attractiveness

of their country, have an alliterative proverb, "Quem vai para

(o) Para para," "He who goes to Para stops there," and I had

often thought I should myself have been added to the list of

examples. The desire, however, of seeing again my parents and

enjoying once more the rich pleasures of intellectual society,

had succeeded in overcoming the attractions of a region which may

be fittingly called a Naturalist's Paradise. During this last

night on the Para river, a crowd of unusual thoughts occupied my

mind. Recollections of English climate, scenery, and modes of

life came to me with a vividness I had never before experienced,

during the eleven years of my absence. Pictures of startling

clearness rose up of the gloomy winters, the long grey twilights,

murky atmosphere, elongated shadows, chilly springs, and sloppy

summers; of factory chimneys and crowds of grimy operatives, rung

to work in early morning by factory bells; of union workhouses,

confined rooms, artificial cares, and slavish conventionalities.

To live again amidst these dull scenes, I was quitting a country

of perpetual summer, where my life had been spent like that of

three-fourths of the people-- in gipsy fashion-- on the endless

streams or in the boundless forests. I was leaving the equator,

where the well-balanced forces of Nature maintained a land-

surface and climate that seemed to be typical of mundane order

and beauty, to sail towards the North Pole, where lay my home

under crepuscular skies somewhere about fifty-two degrees of

latitude. It was natural to feel a little dismayed at the

prospect of so great a change; but now, after three years of

renewed experience of England, I find how incomparably superior

is civilised life, where feelings, tastes, and intellect find

abundant nourishment, to the spiritual sterility of half-savage

existence, even though it be passed in the garden of Eden. What

has struck me powerfully is the immeasurably greater diversity

and interest of human character and social conditions in a single

civilised nation, than in equatorial South America, where three

distinct races of man live together. The superiority of the bleak

north to tropical regions, however, is only in their social

aspect, for I hold to the opinion that, although humanity can

reach an advanced state of culture only by battling with the

inclemencies of nature in high latitudes, it is under the equator

alone that the perfect race of the future will attain to complete

fruition of man's beautiful heritage, the earth.

The following day, having no wind, we drifted out of the mouth of

the Para with the current of fresh water that is poured from the

mouth of the river, and in twenty-four hours advanced in this way

seventy miles on our road. On the 6th of June, when in 7' 55' N.

lat. and 52' 30' W. long., and therefore about 400 miles from the

mouth of the main Amazons, we passed numerous patches of floating

grass mingled with tree-trunks and withered foliage. Among these

masses I espied many fruits of that peculiarly Amazonian tree the

Ubussu palm; this was the last I saw of the Great River.

End of The Project Gutenberg Etext The Naturalist on the River Amazons