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The Naturalist on the River Amazons

by Henry Walter Bates

December, 2000  [Etext #2440]


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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 important
subject:

"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