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The Naturalist on the River Amazons

by Henry Walter Bates

December, 2000  [Etext #2440]


The Project Gutenberg Etext The Naturalist on the River Amazons

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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 <DW64>,
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 <DW64> 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,
<DW64> 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 <DW64>,
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 <DW64>s 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 ; 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- 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  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-
, 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
<DW52> 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 <DW64>
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 <DW64>; Cafuzo, the mixture of the Indian and
<DW64>; Curiboco, the cross between the Cafuzo and the Indian;
Xibaro, that between the Cafuzo and <DW64>. 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 <DW64>s 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64> 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 <DW52> 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 <DW52> 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 <DW64>s 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 <DW52> people, mulattos,
mamelucos, free <DW64>s, 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
<DW64>s 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- butterflies than we had yet seen; some
wholly orange or yellow (Callidryas), others with excessively
elongated wings, sailing horizontally through the air, 
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
<DW64>s
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 <DW64>s 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64>
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 <DW64>s 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 <DW72>
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
<DW64>s 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 <DW52> 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 <DW52> 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  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
<DW64>s 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 <DW64>s 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 <DW64>s 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 <DW64>s 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 <DW64>s 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 <DW64> 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- 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- 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- 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- 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
<DW64>s 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- 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 <DW72>, 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- 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-<DW52> 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-<DW52> 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
<DW64> 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 <DW72> which was also richly wooded; this <DW72> 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-. 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
<DW64> 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--<DW64> 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 <DW64>s 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 <DW64>s 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64>s,
and tried to exterminate them. I shot a great many as they hung
from the rafters, and the <DW64>s 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 <DW64>s, 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- 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64>s
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-
 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
<DW64>s 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,  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 <DW64> 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 <DW64>, 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 <DW64>. 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- 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- 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 <DW64>. Obydos and Santarem have received, during the last
eighty years, considerable importations of <DW64> 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-
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 <DW64> hunter to shoot one for his table. One day I
went on a Coaita hunt, borrowing a <DW64> 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  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-
 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
 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
<DW64>

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--<DW64> 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 <DW64>--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 <DW64>, 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- 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64> 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-
 eye-like spots.

The <DW64> 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- 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-<DW52> 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  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- 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 <DW64>. 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  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
<DW64>s, 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 <DW52> girls for their own ball, and the older squaws
preferred looking on to taking a part themselves. Some of their
husbands joined the <DW64>s, and got drunk very quickly. It was
amusing to notice how voluble the usually taciturn redskins
became under the influence of liquor. The <DW64>s 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
<DW64>, one or two Indians, and a family of Muras. Both he and his
wife were mamelucos; the <DW64> 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 <DW64>, 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 <DW64>s; 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 <DW64>, 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
<DW64>, 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 <DW64>, 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- 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 <DW72> 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 <DW64>, 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 <DW52> 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 <DW64>. 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64>, 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64>, 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64>. 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 <DW64> 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 <DW64>, 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 <DW64> 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 <DW72>s, 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-
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 <DW64> 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 <DW64>, 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 <DW64>s wholly escaping; but the
smallpox attacked more especially the Indians, <DW64>s, 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
<DW64> blood predominates. <DW52> 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, <DW64>, 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
<DW64>s having a grand semi-dramatic display in the streets at
Christmas time. The more select affairs were got up by the young
whites, and <DW52> 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
 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 <DW72>s
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
<DW52> 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 <DW64>s 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- birds and solitary
Caracara eagles whining from the topmost branches of dead trees
on the forest borders. A few settlers have built their palm-
thatched and mud-walled huts on the banks of the Mahica, and
occupy themselves chiefly in tending small herds of cattle. They
seemed to be all wretchedly poor. The oxen however, though small,
were sleek and fat, and the district most promising for
agricultural and pastoral employments. In the wet season the
waters gradually rise and cover the meadows, but there is plenty
of room for the removal of the cattle to higher ground. The lazy
and ignorant people seem totally unable to profit by these
advantages. The houses have no gardens or plantations near them.
I was told it was useless to plant anything, because the cattle
devoured the young shoots. In this country, grazing and planting
are very rarely carried on together, for the people seem to have
no notion of enclosing patches of ground for cultivation. They
say it is too much trouble to make enclosures. The construction
of a durable fence is certainly a difficult matter, for it is
only two or three kinds of tree which will serve the purpose in
being free from the attacks of insects, and these are scattered
far and wide through the woods.

Although the meadows were unproductive ground to a naturalist,
the woods on their borders teemed with life; the number and
variety of curious insects of all orders which occurred here was
quite wonderful. The belt of forest was intersected by numerous
pathways leading from one settler's house to another. The ground
was moist, but the trees were not so lofty or their crowns so
densely packed together as in other parts; the sun's light and
heat, therefore, had freer access to the soil, and the underwood
was much more diversified than in the virgin forest. I never saw
so many kinds of dwarf palms together as here; pretty miniature
species; some not more than five feet high, and bearing little
clusters of round fruit not larger than a good bunch of currants.
A few of the forest trees had the size and strongly-branched
figures of our oaks, and a similar bark. One noble palm grew here
in great abundance, and gave a distinctive character to the
district. This was the Oenocarpus distichus, one of the kinds
called Bacaba by the natives. It grows to a height of forty to
fifty feet. The crown is of a lustrous dark-green colour, and of
a singularly flattened or compressed shape, the leaves being
arranged on each side in nearly the same plane. When I first saw
this tree on the campos, where the east wind blows with great
force night and day for several months, I thought the shape of
the crown was due to the leaves being prevented from radiating
equally by the constant action of the breezes. But the plane of
growth is not always in the direction of the wind, and the crown
has the same shape when the tree grows in the sheltered woods.
The fruit of this fine palm ripens towards the end of the year,
and is much esteemed by the natives, who manufacture a pleasant
drink from it similar to the assai described in a former chapter,
by rubbing off the coat of pulp from the nuts, and mixing it with
water. A bunch of fruit weighs thirty or forty pounds. The
beverage has a milky appearance, and an agreeable nutty flavour.
The tree is very difficult to climb, on account of the smoothness
of its stein; consequently the natives, whenever they want a
bunch of fruit for a bowl of Bacaba, cut down and thus destroy a
tree which has taken a score or two of years to grow, in order to
get at it.

In the lower part of the Mahica woods, towards the river, there
is a bed of stiff white clay, which supplies the people of
Santarem with material for the manufacture of coarse pottery and
cooking utensils: all the kettles, saucepans, mandioca ovens,
coffee-pots, washing-vessels, and so forth, of the poorer
classes, throughout the country, are made of this same plastic
clay, which occurs at short intervals over the whole surface of
the, Amazons valley, from the neighbourhood of Para to within the
Peruvian borders, and forms part of the great Tabatinga marl
deposit. To enable the vessels to stand the fire, the bark of a
certain tree, called Caraipe, is burned and mixed with the clay,
which gives tenacity to the ware. Caraipe is an article of
commerce-- being sold and packed in baskets at the shops in most
of the towns. The shallow pits, excavated in the marly soil at
Mahica, were very attractive to many kinds of mason bees and
wasps, who made use of the clay to build their nests with--so we
have here another example of the curious analogy that exists
between the arts of insects and those of man. I spent many an
hour watching their proceedings; a short account of the habits of
some of these busy creatures may be interesting.

The most conspicuous was a large yellow and black wasp, with a
remarkably long and narrow waist, the Pelopaeus fistularis. This
species collected the clay in little round pellets, which it
carried off, after rolling them into a convenient shape, in its
mouth. It came straight to the pit with a loud hum, and, on
alighting, lost not a moment in beginning to work-- finishing the
kneading of its little load in two or three minutes. The nest of
this wasp is shaped like a pouch, two inches in length, and is
attached to a branch or other projecting object. One of these
restless artificers once began to build on the handle of a chest
in the cabin of my canoe, when we were stationary at a place for
several days. It was so intent on its work that it allowed me to
inspect the movements of its mouth with a lens while it was
laying on the mortar. Every fresh pellet was brought in with a
triumphant song, which changed to a cheerful busy hum when it
alighted and began to work. The little ball of moist clay was
laid on the edge of the cell, and then spread out around the
circular rim by means of the lower lip guided by the mandibles.
The insect placed itself astride over the rim to work, and, on
finishing each addition to the structure, took a turn round,
patting the sides with its feet inside and out before flying off
to gather a fresh pellet. It worked only in sunny weather, and
the previous layer was sometimes not quite dry when the new
coating was added. The whole structure takes about a week to
complete. I left the place before the gay little builder had
quite finished her task; she did not accompany the canoe,
although we moved along the bank of the river very slowly. On
opening closed nests of this species, which are common in the
neighbourhood of Mahica, I always found them to be stocked with
small spiders of the genus Gastracantha, in the usual half-dead
state to which the mother wasps reduce the insects which are to
serve as food for their progeny.

Besides the Pelopaeus, there were three or four kinds of
Trypoxylon, a genus also found in Europe, and which some
naturalists have supposed to be parasitic, because the legs are
not furnished with the usual row of strong bristles for digging,
characteristic of the family to which it belongs. The species of
Trypoxylon, however, are all building wasps; two of them which I
observed (T. albitarse and an undescribed species) provision
their nests with spiders, a third (T. aurifrons) with small
caterpillars. Their habits are similar to those of the Pelopaeus-
- namely, they carry off the clay in their mandibles, and have a
different song when they hasten away with the burden to that
which they sing whilst at work. Trypoxylon albitarse, which is a
large black kind, three-quarters of an inch in length, makes a
tremendous fuss while building its cell. It often chooses the
walls or doors of chambers for this purpose, and when two or
three are at work in the same place, their loud humming keeps the
house in an uproar. The cell is a tubular structure about three
inches in length. T. aurifrons, a much smaller species, makes a
neat little nest shaped like a carafe, building rows of them
together in the corners of verandahs.

But the most numerous and interesting of the clay artificers are
the workers of a species of social bee, the Melipona fasciculata.
The Meliponae in tropical America take the place of the true
Apides, to which the European hive-bee belongs, and which are
here unknown; they are generally much smaller insects than the
hive-bees and have no sting. The M. fasciculata is about a third
shorter than the Apis mellifica: its colonies are composed of an
immense number of individuals; the workers are generally seen
collecting pollen in the same way as other bees, but great
numbers are employed gathering clay. The rapidity and precision
of their movements while thus engaged are wonderful. They first
scrape the clay with their jaws; the small portions gathered are
then cleared by the anterior paws and passed to the second pair
of feet, which, in their turn, convey them to the large foliated
expansions of the hind shanks which are adapted normally in bees,
as every one knows, for the collection of pollen. The middle feet
pat the growing pellets of mortar on the hind legs to keep them
in a compact shape as the particles are successively added. The
little hodsmen soon have as much as they can carry, and they then
fly off. I was for some time puzzled to know what the bees did
with the clay; but I had afterwards plenty of opportunity for
ascertaining. They construct their combs in any suitable crevice
in trunks of trees or perpendicular banks, and the clay is
required to build up a wall so as to close the gap, with the
exception of a small orifice for their own entrance and exit.
Most kinds of Meliponae are in this way masons as well as workers
in wax, and pollen-gatherers. One little species (undescribed)
not more than two lines long, builds a neat tubular gallery of
clay, kneaded with some viscid substance, outside the entrance to
its hive, besides blocking up the crevice in the tree within
which it is situated. The mouth of the tube is trumpet-shaped,
and at the entrance a number of pigmy bees are always stationed,
apparently acting as the sentinels.

A hive of the Melipona fasciculata, which I saw opened, contained
about two quarts of pleasant-tasting liquid honey. The bees, as
already remarked, have no sting, but they bite furiously when
their colonies are disturbed. The Indian who plundered the hive
was completely covered by them; they took a particular fancy to
the hair of his head, and fastened on it by hundreds. I found
forty-five species of these bees in different parts of the
country; the largest was half an inch in length; the smallest
were extremely minute, some kinds being not more than one-twelfth
of an inch in size. These tiny fellows are often very troublesome
in the woods, on account of their familiarity, for they settle on
one's face and hands, and, in crawling about, get into the eyes
and mouth, or up the nostrils.

The broad expansion of the hind shanks of bees is applied in some
species to other uses besides the conveyance of clay and pollen.
The female of the handsome golden and black Euglossa Surinamensis
has this palette of very large size. This species builds its
solitary nest also in crevices of walls or trees-- but it closes
up the chink with fragments of dried leaves and sticks cemented
together, instead of clay. It visits the caju trees, and gathers
with its hind legs a small quantity of the gum which exudes from
their trunks. To this it adds the other materials required from
the neighbouring bushes, and when laden flies off to its nest.

To the south my rambles never extended further than the banks of
the Irura, a stream which rises amongst the hills already spoken
of, and running through a broad valley, wooded along the margins
of the watercourses, falls into the Tapajos, at the head of the
bay of Mapiri. All beyond, as before remarked, is terra incognita
to the inhabitants of Santarem. The Brazilian settlers on the
banks of the Amazons seem to have no taste for explorations by
land, and I could find no person willing to accompany me on an
excursion further towards the interior. Such a journey would be
exceedingly difficult in this country, even if men could be
obtained willing to undertake it. Besides, there were reports of
a settlement of fierce runaway <DW64>s on the Serra de Mururaru,
and it was considered unsafe to go far in that direction, except
with a large armed party.

I visited the banks of the Irura and the rich woods accompanying
it, and two other streams in the same neighbourhood, one called
the Panema, and the other the Urumari, once or twice a week
during the whole time of my residence in Santarem, and made large
collections of their natural productions. These forest brooks,
with their clear, cold waters brawling over their sandy or pebbly
beds through wild tropical glens, always had a great charm for
me. The beauty of the moist, cool, and luxuriant glades was
heightened by the contrast they afforded to the sterile country
around them. The bare or scantily wooded hills which surround the
valley are parched by the rays of the vertical sun. One of them,
the Pico do Irura, forms a nearly perfect cone, rising from a
small grassy plain to a height of 500 or 600 feet, and its ascent
is excessively fatiguing after the long walk from Santarem over
the campos. I tried it one day, but did not reach the summit. A
dense growth of coarse grasses clothed the steep sides of the
hill, with here and there a stunted tree of kinds found in the
plain beneath. In bared places, a red crumbly soil is exposed;
and in one part a mass of rock, which appeared to me, from its
compact texture and the absence of stratification, to be
porphyritic; but I am not geologically sufficient to pronounce on
such questions. Mr. Wallace states that he found fragments of
scoriae, and believes the hill to be a volcanic cone. To the
south and east of this isolated peak, the elongated ridges or
table-topped hills attain a somewhat greater elevation.

The forest in the valley is limited to a tract a few hundred
yards in width on each side the different streams; in places
where these run along the bases of the hills, the hillsides
facing the water are also richly wooded, although their opposite
declivities are bare or nearly so. The trees are lofty and of
great variety; amongst them are colossal examples of the Brazil
nut tree (Bertholletia excelsa), and the Pikia. This latter bears
a large eatable fruit, curious in having a hollow chamber between
the pulp and the kernel, beset with hard spines which produce
serious wounds if they enter the skin. The eatable part appeared
to me not much more palatable than a raw potato; but the
inhabitants of Santarem are very fond of it, and undertake the
most toilsome journeys on foot to gather a basketful. The tree
which yields the tonka bean (Dipteryx odorata), used in Europe
for scenting snuff, is also of frequent occurrence here. It grows
to an immense height, and the fruit, which, although a legume, is
of a rounded shape, and has but one seed, can be gathered only
when it falls to the ground. A considerable quantity (from 1000
to 3000 pounds) is exported annually from Santarem, the produce
of the whole region of the Tapajos. An endless diversity of trees
and shrubs, some beautiful in flower and foliage, others bearing
curious fruits, grow in this matted wilderness. It would be
tedious to enumerate many of them. I was much struck with the
variety of trees with large and diversely-shaped fruits growing
out of the trunk and branches, some within a few inches of the
ground, like the cacao. Most of them are called by the natives
Cupu, and the trees are of inconsiderable height. One of them
called Cupu-ai bears a fruit of elliptical shape and of a dingy
earthen colour six or seven inches long, the shell of which is
woody and thin, and contains a small number of seeds loosely
enveloped in a juicy pulp of very pleasant flavour. The fruits
hang like clayey ants'-nests from the branches. Another kind more
nearly resembles the cacao; this is shaped something like the
cucumber, and has a green ribbed husk. It bears the name of Cacao
de macaco, or monkey's chocolate, but the seeds are smaller than
those of the common cacao. I tried once or twice to make
chocolate from them. They contain plenty of oil of similar
fragrance to that of the ordinary cacao-nut, and make up very
well into paste; but the beverage has a repulsive clayey colour
and an inferior flavour.

My excursions to the Irura had always a picnic character. A few
rude huts are scattered through the valley, but they are tenanted
only for a few days in the year, when their owners come to gather
and roast the mandioca of their small clearings. We used
generally to take with us two boys--one <DW64>, the other Indian--
to carry our provisions for the day; a few pounds of beef or
dried fish, farinha and bananas, with plates, and a kettle for
cooking. Jose carried the guns, ammunition and game-bags, and I
the apparatus for entomologising--the insect net, a large
leathern bag with compartments for corked boxes, phials, glass
tubes, and so forth. It was our custom to start soon after
sunrise, when the walk over the campos was cool and pleasant, the
sky without a cloud, and the grass wet with dew. The paths are
mere faint tracks; in our early excursions it was difficult to
avoid missing our way. We were once completely lost, and wandered
about for several hours over the scorching soil without
recovering the road. A fine view is obtained of the country from
the rising ground about half way across the waste. Thence to the
bottom of the valley is a long, gentle, grassy <DW72>, bare of
trees. The strangely-shaped hills; the forest at their feet,
richly varied with palms; the bay of Mapiri on the right, with
the dark waters of the Tapajos and its white glistening shores,
are all spread out before one, as if depicted on canvas. The
extreme transparency of the atmosphere gives to all parts of the
landscape such clearness of outline that the idea of distance is
destroyed, and one fancies the whole to be almost within reach of
the hand. Descending into the valley, a small brook has to be
crossed, and then half a mile of sandy plain, whose vegetation
wears a peculiar aspect, owing to the predominance of a stemless
palm, the Curua (Attalea spectabilis), whose large, beautifully
pinnated, rigid leaves rise directly from the soil. The fruit of
this species is similar to the coconut, containing milk in the
interior of the kernel, but it is much inferior to it in size.
Here, and indeed all along the road, we saw, on most days in the
wet season, tracks of the jaguar. We never, however, met with the
animal, although we sometimes heard his loud "hough" in the night
while lying in our hammocks at home, in Santarem, and knew he
must be lurking somewhere near us.

My best hunting ground was a part of the valley sheltered on one
side by a steep hill whose declivity, like the swampy valley
beneath, was clothed with magnificent forest. We used to make our
halt in a small cleared place, tolerably free from ants and close
to the water. Here we assembled after our toilsome morning's hunt
in different directions through the woods, took our well-earned
meal on the ground--two broad leaves of the wild banana serving
us for a tablecloth--and rested for a couple of hours during the
great heat of the afternoon. The diversity of animal productions
was as wonderful as that of the vegetable forms in this rich
locality. It was pleasant to lie down during the hottest part of
the day, when my people lay asleep, and watch the movements of
animals. Sometimes a troop of Anus (Crotophaga), a glossy black-
plumaged bird, which lives in small societies in grassy places,
would come in from the campos, one by one, calling to each other
as they moved from tree to tree. Or a Toucan (Rhamphastos ariel)
silently hopped or ran along and up the branches, peeping into
chinks and crevices. Notes of solitary birds resounded from a
distance through the wilderness. Occasionally a sulky Trogon
would be seen, with its brilliant green back and rose-<DW52>
breast, perched for an hour without moving on a low branch. A
number of large, fat lizards two feet long, of a kind called by
the natives Jacuaru (Teius teguexim) were always observed in the
still hours of midday scampering with great clatter over the dead
leaves, apparently in chase of each other. The fat of this bulky
lizard is much prized by the natives, who apply it as a poultice
to draw palm spines or even grains of shot from the flesh. Other
lizards of repulsive aspect, about three feet in length when full
grown, splashed about and swam in the water, sometimes emerging
to crawl into hollow trees on the banks of the stream, where I
once found a female and a nest of eggs. The lazy flapping flight
of large blue and black morpho butterflies high in the air, the
hum of insects, and many inanimate sounds, contributed their
share to the total impression this strange solitude produced.
Heavy fruits from the crowns of trees which were mingled together
at a giddy height overhead, fell now and then with a startling
"plop" into the water. The breeze, not felt below, stirred in the
topmost branches, setting the twisted and looped sipos in motion,
which creaked and groaned in a great variety of notes. To these
noises were added the monotonous ripple of the brook, which had
its little cascade at every score or two yards of its course.

We frequently fell in with an old Indian woman, named Cecilia,
who had a small clearing in the woods. She had the reputation of
being a witch (feiticeira), and I found, on talking with her,
that she prided herself on her knowledge of the black art. Her
slightly curled hair showed that she was not a pureblood Indian--
I was told her father was a dark mulatto. She was always very
civil to our party, showing us the best paths, explaining the
virtues and uses of different plants, and so forth. I was much
amused at the accounts she gave of the place. Her solitary life
and the gloom of the woods seemed to have filled her with
superstitious fancies. She said gold was contained in the bed of
the brook, and that the murmur of the water over the little
cascades was the voice of the "water-mother" revealing the hidden
treasure. A narrow pass between two hillsides was the portao or
gate, and all within, along the wooded banks of the stream, was
enchanted ground. The hill underneath which we were encamped was
the enchanter's abode, and she gravely told us she often had long
conversations with him. These myths were of her own invention,
and in the same way an endless number of other similar ones have
originated in the childish imaginations of the poor Indian and
half-breed inhabitants of different parts of the country. It is
to be remarked, however, that the Indian men all become sceptics
after a little intercourse with the whites. The witchcraft of
poor Cecilia was of a very weak quality. It consisted of throwing
pinches of powdered bark of a certain tree, and other substances,
into the fire while muttering a spell--a prayer repeated
backwards--and adding the name of the person on whom she wished
the incantation to operate. Some of the feiticeiras, however,
play more dangerous tricks than this harmless mummery. They are
acquainted with many poisonous plants, and although they seldom
have the courage to administer a fatal dose, sometimes contrive
to convey to their victim sufficient to cause serious illness.
The motive by which they are actuated is usually jealousy of
other women in love matters. While I resided in Santarem, a case
of what was called witchcraft was tried by the sub-delegado, in
which a highly respectable white lady was the complainant. It
appeared that some feiticeira had sprinkled a quantity of the
acrid juice of a large arum on her linen as it was hanging out to
dry, and it was thought this had caused a serious eruption under
which the lady suffered.

I seldom met with any of the larger animals in these excursions.
We never saw a mammal of any kind on the campos; but tracks of
three species were seen occasionally besides those of the jaguar;
these belonged to a small tiger cat, a deer, and an opossum, all
of which animals must have been very rare, and probably nocturnal
in their habits, with the exception of the deer. I saw in the
woods, on one occasion, a small flock of monkeys, and once had an
opportunity of watching the movements of a sloth. The latter was
of the kind called by Cuvier Bradypus tridactylus, which is
clothed with shaggy grey hair. The natives call it, in the Tupi
language, Al ybyrete (in Portuguese, Preguica da terra firme), or
sloth of the mainland, to distinguish it from the Bradypus
infuscatus, which has a long, black and tawny stripe between the
shoulders, and is called Al Ygapo (Preguica das vargens), or
sloth of the flooded lands. Some travellers in South America have
described the sloth as very nimble in its native woods, and have
disputed the justness of the name which has been bestowed upon
it. The inhabitants of the Amazons region, however, both Indians
and descendants of the Portuguese, hold to the common opinion,
and consider the sloth as the type of laziness. It is very common
for one native to call another, in reproaching him for idleness,
"bicho do Embauba" (beast of the Cecropia tree); the leaves of
the Cecropia being the food of the sloth. It is a strange sight
to watch the uncouth creature, fit production of these silent
shades, lazily moving from branch to branch. Every movement
betrays, not indolence exactly, but extreme caution. He never
looses his hold from one branch without first securing himself to
the next, and when he does not immediately find a bough to grasp
with the rigid hooks into which his paws are so curiously
transformed, he raises his body, supported on his hind legs, and
claws around in search of a fresh foothold. After watching the
animal for about half an hour I gave him a charge of shot. He
fell with a terrific crash, but caught a bough, in his descent,
with his powerful claws, and remained suspended. Our Indian lad
tried to climb the tree, but was driven back by swarms of
stinging ants; the poor little fellow slid down in a sad
predicament, and plunged into the brook to free himself. Two days
afterwards I found the body of the sloth on the ground, the
animal having dropped on the relaxation of the muscles a few
hours after death. In one of our voyages, Mr. Wallace and I saw a
sloth (B. infuscatus) swimming across a river, at a place where
it was probably 300 yards broad. I believe it is not generally
known that this animal takes to the water. Our men caught the
beast, cooked, and ate him.

In returning from these trips we were sometimes benighted on the
campos. We did not care for this on moonlit nights, when there
was no danger of losing the path. The great heat felt in the
middle hours of the day is much mitigated by four o'clock in the
afternoon; a few birds then make their appearance; small flocks
of ground doves run about the stony hillocks parrots pass over
and sometimes settle in the ilhas; pretty little finches of
several species, especially one kind, streaked with olive-brown
and yellow, and somewhat resembling our yellowhammer, but I
believe not belonging to the same genus, hop about the grass,
enlivening the place with a few musical notes. The Carashue
(Mimus) also then resumes its mellow, blackbird-like song; and
two or three species of hummingbird, none of which, however, are
peculiar to the district, flit about from tree to tree. On the
other hand, the little blue and yellow-striped lizards, which
abound amongst the herbage during the scorching heats of midday,
retreat towards this hour to their hiding-places, together with
the day-flying insects and the numerous campo butterflies. Some
of these latter resemble greatly our English species found in
heathy places, namely, a fritillary, Argynnis (Euptoieta)
Hegesia, and two smaller kinds, which are deceptively like the
little Nemeobius Lucina. After sunset, the air becomes
delightfully cool and fragrant with the aroma of fruits and
flowers. The nocturnal animals then come forth. A monstrous hairy
spider, five inches in expanse, of a brown colour with yellowish
lines along its stout legs--which is very common here, inhabiting
broad tubular galleries smoothly lined with silken web--may be
then caught on the watch at the mouth of its burrow. It is only
seen at night, and I think does not wander far from its den; the
gallery is about two inches in diameter and runs in a slanting
direction, about two feet from the surface of the soil.

As soon as it is night, swarms of goatsuckers suddenly make their
appearance, wheeling about in a noiseless, ghostly manner, in
chase of night-flying insects. They sometimes descend and settle
on a low branch, or even on the pathway close to where one is
walking, and then squatting down on their heels, are difficult to
distinguish from the surrounding soil. One kind has a long forked
tail. In the daytime they are concealed in the wooded ilhas,
where I very often saw them crouched and sleeping on the ground
in the dense shade. They make no nest, but lay their eggs on the
bare ground. Their breeding time is in the rainy season, and
fresh eggs are found from December to June. Later in the evening,
the singular notes of the goatsuckers are heard, one species
crying Quao, Quao, another Chuck-cococao; and these are repeated
at intervals far into the night in the most monotonous manner. A
great number of toads are seen on the bare sandy pathways soon
after sunset. One of them was quite a colossus, about seven
inches in length and three in height. This big fellow would never
move out of the way until we were close to him. If we jerked him
out of the path with a stick, he would slowly recover himself,
and then turn round to have a good impudent stare. I have counted
as many as thirty of these monsters within a distance of half a
mile.


CHAPTER IX

VOYAGE UP THE TAPAJOS

Preparations for Voyage-First Day's Sail--Loss of Boat--Altar de
Chao--Modes of Obtaining Fish--Difficulties with Crew--Arrival at
Aveyros--Excursions in the Neighbourhood--White Cebus, and Habits
and Dispositions of Cebi Monkeys--Tame Parrot--Missionary
Settlement--Entering the River Cupari--Adventure with Anaconda--
Smoke-dried Monkey--Boa-constrictor--Village of Mundurucu
Indians, and Incursion of a Wild Tribe--Falls of the Cupari--
Hyacinthine Macaw--Re-emerge into the broad Tapajos--Descent of
River to Santarem

June, 1852--I will now proceed to relate the incidents of my
principal excursion up the Tapajos, which I began to prepare for,
after residing about six months at Santarem.

I was obliged, this time, to travel in a vessel of my own; partly
because trading canoes large enough to accommodate a Naturalist
very seldom pass between Santarem and the thinly-peopled
settlements on the river, and partly because I wished to explore
districts at my ease, far out of the ordinary track of traders. I
soon found a suitable canoe; a two-masted cuberta, of about six
tons' burthen, strongly built of Itauba or stonewood, a timber of
which all the best vessels in the Amazons country are
constructed, and said to be more durable than teak. This I hired
of a merchant at the cheap rate of 500 reis, or about one
shilling and twopence per day. I fitted up the cabin, which, as
usual in canoes of this class, was a square structure with its
floor above the waterline, as my sleeping and working apartment.
My chests, filled with store-boxes and trays for specimens, were
arranged on each side, and above them were shelves and pegs to
hold my little stock of useful books, guns, and game bags, boards
and materials for skinning and preserving animals, botanical
press and papers, drying cages for insects. and birds and so
forth. A rush mat was spread on the floor, and my rolled-up
hammock, to be used only when sleeping ashore, served for a
pillow. The arched covering over the hold in the fore part of the
vessel contained, besides a sleeping place for the crew, my heavy
chests, stock of salt provisions and groceries, and an assortment
of goods wherewith to pay my way amongst the half-civilised or
savage inhabitants of the interior. The goods consisted of
cashaca, powder and shot, a few pieces of coarse, checked cotton
cloth and prints, fish-hooks, axes, large knives, harpoons,
arrowheads, looking-glasses, beads, and other small wares. Jose
and myself were busy for many days arranging these matters. We
had to salt the meat and grind a supply of coffee ourselves.
Cooking utensils, crockery, water-jars, a set of useful
carpenter's tools, and many other things had to be provided. We
put all the groceries and other perishable articles in tin
canisters and boxes, having found that this was the only way of
preserving them from dampness and insects in this climate. When
all was done, our canoe looked like a little floating workshop.

I could get little information about the river, except vague
accounts of the difficulty of the navigation, and the famito or
hunger which reigned on its banks. As I have before mentioned, it
is about 1000 miles in length, and flows from south to north; in
magnitude it stands the sixth amongst the tributaries of the
Amazons. It is navigable, however, by sailing vessels only for
about 160 miles above Santarem. The hiring of men to navigate the
vessel was our greatest trouble. Jose was to be my helmsman, and
we thought three other hands would be the fewest with which we
could venture. But all our endeavours to procure these were
fruitless. Santarem is worse provided with Indian canoemen than
any other town on the river. I found on applying to the tradesmen
to whom I had brought letters of introduction and to the
Brazilian authorities, that almost any favour would be sooner
granted than the loan of hands. A stranger, however, is obliged
to depend on them; for it is impossible to find an Indian or
half-caste whom someone or other of the head-men do not claim as
owing him money or labour. I was afraid at one time I should have
been forced to abandon my project on this account. At length,
after many rebuffs and disappointments, Jose contrived to engage
one man, a mulatto, named Pinto, a native of the mining country
of Interior Brazil, who knew the river well; and with these two I
resolved to start, hoping to meet with others at the first
village on the road.

We left Santarem on the 8th of June. The waters were then at
their highest point, and my canoe had been anchored close to the
back door of our house. The morning was cool and a brisk wind
blew, with which we sped rapidly past the white-washed houses and
thatched Indian huts of the suburbs. The charming little bay of
Mapiri was soon left behind; we then doubled Point Maria Josepha,
a headland formed of high cliffs of Tabatinga clay, capped with
forest. This forms the limit of the river view from Santarem, and
here we had our last glimpse, at a distance of seven or eight
miles, of the city, a bright line of tiny white buildings resting
on the dark water. A stretch of wild, rocky, uninhabited coast
was before us, and we were fairly within the Tapajos.

Our course lay due west for about twenty miles. The wind
increased as we neared Point Cururu, where the river bends from
its northern course. A vast expanse of water here stretches to
the west and south, and the waves, with a strong breeze, run very
high. As we were doubling the Point, the cable which held our
montaria in tow astern, parted, and in endeavouring to recover
the boat, without which we knew it would be difficult to get
ashore on many parts of the coast, we were very near capsizing.
We tried to tack down the river; a vain attempt with a strong
breeze and no current. Our ropes snapped, the sails flew to rags,
and the vessel, which we now found was deficient in ballast,
heeled over frightfully. Contrary to Jose's advice, I ran the
cuberta into a little bay, thinking to cast anchor there and wait
for the boat coming up with the wind; but the anchor dragged on
the smooth sandy bottom, and the vessel went broadside on to the
rocky beach. With a little dexterous management, but not until
after we had sustained some severe bumps, we managed to get out
of this difficulty, clearing the rocky point at a close shave
with our jib-sail. Soon after, we drifted into the smooth water
of a sheltered bay which leads to the charmingly situated village
of Altar do Chao; and we were obliged to give up our attempt to
recover the montaria.

The little settlement, Altar de Chao (altar of the ground, or
Earth altar), owes its singular name to the existence at the
entrance to the harbour of one of those strange flat-topped hills
which are so common in this part of the Amazons country, shaped
like the high altar in Roman Catholic churches. It is an isolated
one, and much lower in height than the similarly truncated hills
and ridges near Almeyrim, being elevated probably not more than
300 feet above the level of the river. It is bare of trees, but
covered in places with a species of fern. At the head of the bay
is an inner harbour, which communicates by a channel with a
series of lakes lying in the valleys between hills, and
stretching far into the interior of the land. The village is
peopled almost entirely by semi-civilised Indians, to the number
of sixty or seventy families; and the scattered houses are
arranged in broad streets on a strip of greensward, at the foot
of a high, gloriously-wooded ridge.

I was so much pleased with the situation of this settlement, and
the number of rare birds and insects which tenanted the forest,
that I revisited it in the following year, and spent four months
making collections. The village itself is a neglected, poverty-
stricken place-- the governor (Captain of Trabalhadores, or
Indian workmen) being an old, apathetic, half-breed, who had
spent all his life here. The priest was a most profligate
character; I seldom saw him sober; he was a white, however, and a
man of good ability. I may as well mention here, that a moral and
zealous priest is a great rarity in this province-- the only
ministers of religion in the whole country who appeared sincere
in their calling being the Bishop of Para and the Vicars of Ega
on the Upper Amazons and Obydos. The houses in the village
swarmed with vermin; bats in the thatch, fire-ants (formiga de
fogo) under the floors; cockroaches and spiders on the walls.
Very few of them had wooden doors and locks.

Altar de Chao was originally a settlement of the aborigines, and
was called Burari. The Indians were always hostile to the
Portuguese, and during the disorders of 1835-6 joined the rebels
in their attack on Santarem. Few of them escaped the subsequent
slaughter, and for this reason there is now scarcely an old or
middle-aged man in the place. As in all the semi-civilised
villages, where the original orderly and industrious habits of
the Indian have been lost without anything being learned from the
whites to make amends, the inhabitants live in the greatest
poverty. The scarcity of fish in the clear waters and rocky bays
of the neighbourhood is no doubt partly the cause of the poverty
and perennial hunger which reign here. When we arrived in the
port, our canoe was crowded with the half-naked villagers--men,
women, and children-- who came to beg each a piece of salt
pirarucu "for the love of God." They are not quite so badly off
in the dry season. The shallow lakes and bays then contain plenty
of fish, and the boys and women go out at night to spear them by
torchlight-- the torches being made of thin strips of green bark
from the leaf-stalks of palms, tied in bundles. Many excellent
kinds of fish are thus obtained; amongst them the Pescada, whose
white and flaky flesh, when boiled, has the appearance and
flavour of cod-fish; and the Tucunare (Cichla temensis), a
handsome species, with a large prettily-, eye-like spot
on its tail. Many small Salmonidae are also met with, and a kind
of sole, called Aramassa, which moves along the clear sandy
bottom of the bay. At these times a species of sting-ray is
common on the sloping beach, and bathers are frequently stung
most severely by it. The weapon of this fish is a strong blade
with jagged edges, about three inches long, growing from the side
of the long fleshy tail. I once saw a woman wounded by it whilse
bathing; she shrieked frightfully, and was obliged to be carried
to her hammock, where she lay for a week in great pain; I have
known strong men to be lamed for many months by the sting.

There was a mode of taking fish here which I had not before seen
employed, but found afterwards to be very common on the Tapajos.
This is by using a poisonous liana called Timbo (Paullinia
pinnata). It will act only in the still waters of creeks and
pools. A few rods, a yard in length, are mashed and soaked in the
water, which quickly becomes discoloured with the milky
deleterious juice of the plant. In about half an hour all the
smaller fishes over a rather wide space around the spot, rise to
the surface floating on their sides, and with the gills wide
open. Evidently,the poison acts  by suffocating the fishes--it
spreads slowly in the water, and a very slight mixture seems
sufficient to stupefy them. I was surprised, upon beating the
water in places where no fishes were visible in the clear depths
for many yards round, to find, sooner or later, sometimes twenty-
four hours afterwards, a considerable number floating dead on the
surface.

The people occupy themselves the greater part of the year with
their small plantations of mandioca. All the heavy work, such as
felling and burning the timber, planting and weeding, is done in
the plantation of each family by a congregation of neighbours,
which they call a "pucherum"--a similar custom to the "bee" in
the backwood settlements of North America. They make quite a
holiday of each pucherum. When the invitation is issued, the
family prepares a great quantity of fermented drink, called in
this part Taroba, made from soaked mandioca cakes, and porridge
of Manicueira. This latter is a kind of sweet mandioca, very
different from the Yuca of the Peruvians and Macasheira of the
Brazilians (Manihot Aypi), having oblong juicy roots, which
become very sweet a few days after they are gathered. With these
simple provisions they regale their helpers. The work is
certainly done, but after a very rude fashion; all become
soddened with Taroba, and the day finishes often in a drunken
brawl.

The climate is rather more humid than that of Santarem. I suppose
this is to be attributed to the neighbouring country being
densely wooded instead of an open campo. In no part of the
country did I enjoy more the moonlit nights than here, in the dry
season. After the day's work was done, I used to go down to the
shores of the bay, and lie at full length on the cool sand for
two or three hours before bedtime. The soft pale light, resting
on broad sandy beaches and palm-thatched huts, reproduced the
effect of a mid-winter scene in the cold north when a coating of
snow lies on the landscape. A heavy shower falls about once a
week, and the shrubby vegetation never becomes parched as at
Santarem. Between the rains, the heat and dryness increase from
day to day-- the weather on the first day after the rain is
gleamy, with intervals of melting sunshine and passing clouds;
the next day is rather drier, and the east wind begins to blow;
then follow days of cloudless sky, with gradually increasing
strength of breeze. When this has continued about a week, a light
mistiness begins to gather about the horizon; clouds are formed;
grumbling thunder is heard; and then, generally in the night-
time, down falls the refreshing rain. The sudden chill caused by
the rains produces colds, which are accompanied by the same
symptoms as in our own climate; with this exception, the place is
very healthy.

June 17th--The two young men returned without meeting with my
montaria, and I found it impossible here to buy a new one.
Captain Thomas could find me only one hand. This was a blunt-
spoken but willing young Indian, named Manoel. He came on board
this morning at eight o'clock, and we then got up our anchor and
resumed our voyage.

The wind was light and variable all day, and we made only about
fifteen miles by seven o'clock in the evening. The coast formed a
succession of long, shallow bays with sandy beaches, upon which
the waves broke in a long line of surf. Ten miles above Altar de
Chao is a conspicuous headland, called Point Cajetuba. During a
lull of the wind, towards midday, we ran the cuberta aground in
shallow water and waded ashore; but the woods were scarcely
penetrable, and not a bird was to be seen. The only thing
observed worthy of note was the quantity of drowned winged ants
along the beach; they were all of one species, the terrible
formiga de fogo (Myrmica saevis sima); the dead, or half-dead
bodies of which were heaped up in a line an inch or two in height
and breadth, the line continuing without interruption for miles
at the edge of the water. The countless thousands had been
doubtless cast into the river while flying during a sudden squall
the night before, and afterwards, cast ashore by the waves. We
found ourselves at seven o'clock near the mouth of a creek
leading to a small lake, called Aramana-i, and the wind having
died away, we anchored, guided by the lights ashore, near the
house of a settler named Jeronymo, whom I knew, and who, soon
after, showed us a snug little harbour where we could remain in
safety for the night. The river here cannot be less than ten
miles broad; it is quite clear of islands and free from shoals at
this season of the year. The opposite coast appeared in the
daytime as a long thin line of forest, with dim grey hills in the
background.

Today (19th) we had a good wind, which carried us to the mouth of
a creek, culled Paquiatuba, where the "inspector" of the district
lived, Senor Cypriano, for whom I had brought an order from
Captain Thomas to supply me with another hand. We had great
difficulty in finding a place to land. The coast in this part was
a tract of level, densely-wooded country, through which flowed
the winding rivulet, or creek, which gives its name to a small
scattered settlement hidden in the wilderness; the hills here
receding two or three miles towards the interior. A large portion
of the forest was flooded, the trunks of the very high trees near
the mouth of the creek standing eighteen feet deep in water. We
lost two hours working our way with poles through the inundated
woods in search of the port. Every inlet we tried ended in a
labyrinth choked up with bushes, but we were at length guided to
the right place by the crowing of cocks. On shouting for a
montaria, an Indian boy made his appearance, guiding one through
the gloomy thickets; but he was so alarmed, I suppose at the
apparition of a strange-looking white man in spectacles bawling
from the brow of the vessel, that he shot back quickly into the
bushes. He returned when Manoel spoke, and we went ashore, the
montaria winding along a gloomy overshadowed water-path made by
cutting away the lower branches and underwood. The foot-road to
the houses was a narrow, sandy alley, bordered by trees of
stupendous height, overrun with creepers, and having an unusual
number of long air-roots dangling from the epiphytes on their
branches.

After passing one low smoky little hut half-buried in foliage,
the path branched off in various directions, and the boy having
left us, we took the wrong turn. We were brought to a stand soon
after by the barking of dogs; and on shouting, as is customary on
approaching a dwelling, "O da casa!" (Oh of the house!) a dark-
skinned native, a Cafuzo, with a most unpleasant expression of
countenance, came forth through the tangled maze of bushes, armed
with a long knife, with which he pretended to be whittling a
stick. He directed us to the house of Cypriano, which was about a
mile distant along another forest road. The circumstance of the
Cafuzo coming out armed to receive visitors very much astonished
my companions, who talked it over at every place we visited for
several days afterwards, the freest and most unsuspecting welcome
in these retired places being always counted upon by strangers.
But, as Manoel remarked, the fellow may have been one of the
unpardoned rebel leaders who had settled here after the recapture
of Santarem in 1836, and lived in fear of being inquired for by
the authorities of Santarem. After all our troubles we found
Cypriano absent from home. His house was a large one, and full of
people, old and young, women and children, all of whom were
Indians or mamelucos. Several smaller huts surrounded the large
dwelling, besides extensive open sheds containing mandioca ovens
and rude wooden mills for grinding sugar-cane to make molasses.
All the buildings were embosomed in trees: it would be scarcely
possible to find a more retired nook, and an air of contentment
was spread over the whole establishment. Cypriano's wife, a good-
looking mameluco girl, was superintending the packing of farina.
Two or three old women, seated on mats, were making baskets with
narrow strips of bark from the leafstalks of palms, while others
were occupied lining them with the broad leaves of a species of
maranta, and filling them afterwards with farina, which was
previously measured in a rude square vessel. It appeared that
Senor Cypriano was a large producer of the article, selling 300
baskets (sixty pounds' weight each) annually to Santarem traders.
I was sorry we were unable to see him, but it was useless
waiting, as we were told all the men were at present occupied in
"pucherums," and he would be unable to give me the assistance I
required. We returned to the canoe in the evening, and, after
moving out into the river, anchored and slept.

June 20th.--We had a light, baffling wind off shore all day on
the 20th, and made but fourteen or fifteen miles by six p.m.
when, the wind failing us, we anchored at the mouth of a narrow
channel, called Tapaiuna, which runs between a large island and
the mainland. About three o'clock we passed in front of Boim, a
village on the opposite (western) coast. The breadth of the river
here is six or seven miles-- a confused patch of white on the
high land opposite was all we saw of the village, the separate
houses being undistinguishable on account of the distance. The
coast along which we sailed today is a continuation of the low
and flooded land of Paquiatuba.

June 21st-The next morning we sailed along the Tapaiuna channel,
which is from 400 to 600 yards in breadth. We advanced but
slowly, as the wind was generally dead against us, and stopped
frequently to ramble ashore. Wherever the landing-place was
sandy, it was impossible to walk about on account of the swarms
of the terrible fire-ant, whose sting is likened by the
Brazilians to the puncture of a red-hot needle. There was
scarcely a square inch of ground free from them. About three p.m.
we glided into a quiet, shady creek, on whose banks an
industrious white settler had located himself. I resolved to pass
the rest of the day and night here, and endeavour to obtain a
fresh supply of provisions, our stock of salt beef being now
nearly exhausted. The situation of the house was beautiful; the
little harbour being gay with water plants, Pontederiae, now full
of purple blossom, from which flocks of stilt-legged water-fowl
started up screaming as we entered. The owner sent a boy with my
men to show them the best place for fish up the creek, and in the
course of the evening sold me a number of fowls, besides baskets
of beans and farina. The result of the fishing was a good supply
of Jandia, a handsome spotted Siluride fish, and Piranha, a kind
of Salmon. Piranhas are of several kinds, many of which abound in
the waters of the Tapajos. They are caught with almost any kind
of bait, for their taste is indiscriminate and their appetite
most ravenous. They often attack the legs of bathers near the
shore, inflicting severe wounds with their strong triangular
teeth. At Paquiatuba and this place, I added about twenty species
of small fishes to my collection-- caught by hook and line, or
with the hand in shallow pools under the shade of the forest.

My men slept ashore, and upon the coming aboard in the morning,
Pinto was drunk and insolent. According to Jose, who had kept
himself sober, and was alarmed at the other's violent conduct,
the owner of the house and Pinto had spent the greater part of
the night together, drinking aguardente de beiju,--a spirit
distilled from the mandioca root. We knew nothing of the
antecedents of this man, who was a tall, strong, self-willed
fellow, and it began to dawn on us that this was not a very safe
travelling companion in a wild country like this. I thought it
better now to make the best of our way to the next settlement,
Aveyros, and get rid of him.

Our course today lay along a high rocky coast, which extended
without a break for about eight miles. The height of the
perpendicular rocks was from 100 to 150 feet; ferns and flowering
shrubs grew in the crevices, and the summit supported a luxuriant
growth of forest, like the rest of the river banks. The waves
beat with a loud roar at the foot of these inhospitable barriers.
At two p.m. we passed the mouth of a small picturesque harbour,
formed by a gap in the precipitous coast. Several families have
here settled; the place is called Ita-puama, or "standing rock,"
from a remarkable isolated cliff, which stands erect at the
entrance to the little haven. A short distance beyond Itapuama we
found ourselves opposite to the village of Pinhel, which is
perched, like Boim, on high ground, on the western side of the
river. The stream is here from six to seven miles wide. A line of
low islets extends in front of Pinhel, and a little further to
the south is a larger island, called Capitari, which lies nearly
in the middle of the river.

June 23rd.--The wind freshened at ten o'clock in the morning of
the 23rd. A thick black cloud then began to spread itself over
the sky a long way down the river; the storm which it portended,
however, did not reach us, as the dark threatening mass crossed
from east to west, and the only effect it had was to impel a
column of cold air up river, creating a breeze with which we
bounded rapidly forward. The wind in the afternoon strengthened
to a gale. We carried on with one foresail only, two of the men
holding on to the boom to prevent the whole thing from flying to
pieces. The rocky coast continued for about twelve miles above
Ita-puama, then succeeded a tract of low marshy land, which had
evidently been once an island whose channel of separation from
the mainland had become silted up. The island of Capitari and
another group of islets succeeding it, called Jacare, on the
opposite side, helped also to contract at this point the breadth
of the river, which was now not more than about three miles. The
little cuberta almost flew along this coast, there being no
perceptible current, past extensive swamps, margined with thick
floating grasses. At length, on rounding a low point, higher land
again appeared on the right bank of the river, and the village of
Aveyros hove in sight, in the port of which we cast anchor late
in the afternoon.

Aveyros is a small settlement, containing only fourteen or
fifteen houses besides the church; but it is the place of
residence of the authorities of a large district-- the priest,
Juiz de Paz, the subdelegado of police, and the Captain of the
Trabalhadores. The district includes Pinhel, which we passed
about twenty miles lower down on the left bank of the river. Five
miles beyond Aveyros, and also on the left bank, is the
missionary village of Santa Cruz, comprising thirty or forty
families of baptised Mundurucu Indians, who are at present under
the management of a Capuchin Friar, and are independent of the
Captain of Trabalhadores of Aveyros. The river view from this
point towards the south was very grand; the stream is from two to
three miles broad, with green islets resting on its surface, and
on each side a chain of hills stretches away in long perspective.
I resolved to stay here for a few weeks to make collections. On
landing, my first care was to obtain a house or room, that I
might live ashore. This was soon arranged; the head man of the
place, Captain Antonio, having received notice of my coming, so
that before night all the chests and apparatus I required were
housed and put in order for working.

I here dismissed Pinto, who again got drunk and quarrelsome a few
hours after he came ashore. He left the next day, to my great
relief, in a small trading canoe that touched at the place on its
way to Santarem. The Indian Manoel took his leave at the same
time, having engaged to accompany me only as far as Aveyros; I
was then dependent on Captain Antonio for fresh hands. The
captains of Trabalhadores are appointed by the Brazilian
Government to embody the scattered Indian labourers and canoe-men
of their respective districts, to the end that they may supply
passing travellers with men when required. A semi-military
organisation is given to the bodies--some of the steadiest
amongst the Indians themselves being nominated as sergeants, and
all the members mustered at the principal village of their
district twice each year. The captains, however, universally
abuse their authority, monopolising the service of the men for
their own purposes, so that it is only by favour that the loan of
a canoe-hand can be wrung from them. I was treated by Captain
Antonio with great consideration, and promised two good Indians
when I should be ready to continue my voyage.

Little happened worth narrating during my forty days' stay at
Aveyros. The time was spent in the quiet, regular pursuit of
Natural History: every morning I had my long ramble in the
forest, which extended to the back-doors of the houses, and the
afternoons were occupied in preserving and studying the objects
collected. The priest was a lively old man, but rather a bore
from being able to talk of scarcely anything except homoeopathy,
having been smitten with the mania during a recent visit to
Santarem. He had a Portuguese Homoeopathic Dictionary, and a
little leather case containing glass tubes filled with globules,
with which he was doctoring the whole village.

A bitter enmity seemed to exist between the female members of the
priest's family, and those of the captain's-- the only white
women in the settlement. It was amusing to notice how they
flaunted past each other, when going to church on Sundays, in
their starched muslin dresses. I found an intelligent young man
living here, a native of the province of Goyaz, who was exploring
the neighbourhood for gold and diamonds. He had made one journey
up a branch river, and declared to me that he had found one
diamond, but was unable to continue his researches, because the
Indians who accompanied him refused to remain any longer; he was
now waiting for Captain Antonio to assist him with fresh men,
having offered him in return a share in the results of the
enterprise. There appeared to be no doubt that gold is
occasionally found within two or three days' journey of Aveyros;
but all lengthened search is made impossible by the scarcity of
food and the impatience of the Indians, who see no value in the
precious metal, and abhor the tediousness of the gold-searcher's
occupation. It is impossible to do without them, as they are
required to paddle the canoes.

The weather, during the month of July, was uninterruptedly fine;
not a drop of rain fell, and the river sank rapidly. The
mornings, for two hours after sunrise, were very cold; we were
glad to wrap ourselves in blankets on turning out of our
hammocks, and walk about at a quick pace in the early sunshine.
But in the afternoons, the heat was sickening, for the glowing
sun then shone full on the front of the row of whitewashed
houses, and there was seldom any wind to moderate its effects. I
began now to understand why the branch rivers of the Amazons were
so unhealthy, while the main stream was pretty nearly free from
diseases arising from malaria. The cause lies, without doubt, in
the slack currents of the tributaries in the dry season, and the
absence of the cooling Amazonian trade wind, which purifies the
air along the banks of the main river. The trade wind does not
deviate from its nearly straight westerly course, so that the
branch streams, which run generally at right angles to the
Amazons, and, have a slack current for a long distance from their
mouths, are left to the horrors of nearly stagnant air and water.

Aveyros may be called the headquarters of the fire-ant, which
might be fittingly termed the scourge of this fine river. The
Tapajos is nearly free from the insect pests of other parts,
mosquitoes, sand-flies, Motucas and piums; but the formiga de
fogo is perhaps a greater plague than all the others put
together. It is found only on sandy soils in open places, and
seems to thrive most in the neighbourhood of houses and weedy
villages, such as Aveyros; it does not occur at all in the shades
of the forest. I noticed it in most places on the banks of the
Amazons but the species is not very common on the main river, and
its presence is there scarcely noticed, because it does not
attack man, and the sting is not so virulent as it is in the same
species on the banks of the Tapajos. Aveyros was deserted a few
years before my visit on account of this little tormentor, and
the inhabitants had only recently returned to their houses,
thinking its numbers had decreased. It is a small species, of a
shining reddish colour not greatly differing from the common red
stinging ant of our own country (Myrmica rubra), except that the
pain and irritation caused by its sting are much greater. The
soil of the whole village is undermined by it; the ground is
perforated with the entrances to their subterranean galleries,
and a little sandy dome occurs here and there, where the insects
bring their young to receive warmth near the surface. The houses
are overrun with them; they dispute every fragment of food with
the inhabitants, and destroy clothing for the sake of the starch.
All eatables are obliged to be suspended in baskets from the
rafters, and the cords well soaked with copauba balsam, which is
the only means known of preventing them from climbing. They seem
to attack persons out of sheer malice; if we stood for a few
moments in the street, even at a distance from their nests, we
were sure to be overrun and severely punished, for the moment an
ant touched the flesh, he secured himself with his jaws, doubled
in his tail, and stung with all his might. When we were seated on
chairs in the evenings in front of the house to enjoy a chat with
our neighbours, we had stools to support our feet, the legs of
which, as well as those of the chairs, were well anointed with
the balsam. The cords of hammocks are obliged to be smeared in
the same way to prevent the ants from paying sleepers a visit.

The inhabitants declare that the fire-ant was unknown on the
Tapajos before the disorders of 1835-6, and believe that the
hosts sprang up from the blood of the slaughtered Cabanas or
rebels. They have doubtless increased since that time, but the
cause lies in the depopulation of the villages and the rank
growth of weeds in the previously cleared, well-kept spaces. I
have already described the line of sediment formed on the sandy
shores lower down the river by the dead bodies of the winged
individuals of this species. The exodus from their nests of the
males and females takes place at the end of the rainy season
(June), when the swarms are blown into the river by squalls of
wind, and subsequently cast ashore by the waves; I was told that
this wholesale destruction of ant-life takes place annually, and
that the same compact heap of dead bodies which I saw only in
part, extends along the banks of the river for twelve or fifteen
miles.

The forest behind Aveyros yielded me little except insects, but
in these it was very rich. It is not too dense, and broad sunny
paths skirted by luxuriant beds of Lycopodiums, which form
attractive sporting places for insects, extend from the village
to a swampy hollow or ygapo, which lies about a mile inland. Of
butterflies alone I enumerated fully 300 species, captured or
seen in the course of forty days within a half-hour's walk of the
village. This is a greater number than is found in the whole of
Europe. The only monkey I observed was the Callithrix moloch--one
of the kinds called by the Indians "Whaiapu-sai". It is a
moderate-sized species, clothed with long brown hair, and having
hands of a whitish hue. Although nearly allied to the Cebi, it
has none of their restless vivacity, but is a dull listless
animal. It goes in small flocks of five or six individuals,
running along the main boughs of the trees. One of the specimens
which I obtained here was caught on a low fruit-tree at the back
of our house at sunrise one morning. This was the only instance
of a monkey being captured in such a position that I ever heard
of. As the tree was isolated, it must have descended to the
ground from the neighbouring forest and walked some distance to
get at it. The species is sometimes kept in a tame state by the
natives-- it does not make a very amusing pet, and survives
captivity only a short time.

I heard that the white Cebus, the Caiarara branca, a kind of
monkey I had not yet seen, and wished very much to obtain,
inhabited the forests on the opposite side of the river; so one
day, on an opportunity being afforded by our host going over in a
large boat, I crossed to go in search of it. We were about twenty
persons in all, and the boat was an old rickety affair with the
gaping seams rudely stuffed with tow and pitch. In addition to
the human freight we took three sheep with us, which Captain
Antonio had just received from Santarem and was going to add to
his new cattle farm on the other side. Ten Indian paddlers
carried us quickly across. The breadth of the river could not be
less than three miles, and the current was scarcely perceptible.
When a boat has to cross the main Amazons, it is obliged to
ascend along the banks for half a mile or more to allow for
drifting by the current; in this lower part of the Tapajos this
is not necessary. When about halfway, the sheep, in moving about,
kicked a hole in the bottom of the boat. The passengers took the
matter very coolly, although the water spouted up alarmingly, and
I thought we should inevitably be swamped. Captain Antonio took
off his socks to stop the leak, inviting me and the Juiz de Paz,
who was one of the party, to do the same, while two Indians baled
out the water with large cuyas. We thus managed to keep afloat
until we reached our destination, when the men patched up the
leak for our return journey.

The landing-place lay a short distance within the mouth of a
shady inlet,up on whose banks, hidden amongst the dense woods,
were the houses of a few Indian and mameluco settlers. The path
to the cattle farm led first through a tract of swampy forest; it
then ascended a <DW72> and emerged on a fine sweep of prairie,
varied with patches of timber. The wooded portion occupied the
hollows where the soil was of a rich chocolate-brown colour, and
of a peaty nature. The higher grassy, undulating parts of the
campo had a lighter and more sandy soil. Leaving our friends,
Jose and I took our guns and dived into the woods in search of
the monkeys. As we walked rapidly along I was very near treading
on a rattlesnake, which lay stretched out nearly in a straight
line on the bare sandy pathway. It made no movement to get out of
the way, and I escaped the danger by a timely and sudden leap,
being unable to check my steps in the hurried walk. We tried to
excite the sluggish reptile by throwing handfulls of sand and
sticks at it, but the only notice it took was to raise its ugly
horny tail and shake its rattle. At length it began to move
rather nimbly,when we despatched it by a blow on the head with a
pole, not wishing to fire on account of alarming our game.

We saw nothing of the white Caiarara; we met, however, with a
flock of the common light-brown allied species (Cebus
albifrons?), and killed one as a specimen. A resident on this
side of the river told us that the white kind was found further
to the south, beyond Santa Cruz. The light-brown Caiarara is
pretty generally distributed over the forests of the level
country. I saw it very frequently on the banks of the Upper
Amazons, where it was always a treat to watch a flock leaping
amongst the trees, for it is the most wonderful performer in this
line of the whole tribe. The troops consist of thirty or more
individuals, which travel in single file. When the foremost of
the flock reaches the outermost branch of an unusually lofty
tree, he springs forth into the air without a moment's hesitation
and alights on the dome of yielding foliage belonging to the
neighbouring tree, maybe fifty feet beneath-- all the rest
following the example. They grasp, upon falling, with hands and
tail, right themselves in a moment, and then away they go along
branch and bough to the next tree.

The Caiarara owes its name in the Tupi language, macaw or large-
headed (Acain, head and Arara macaw), to the disproportionate
size of the head compared with the rest of the body. It is very
frequently kept as a pet in houses of natives. I kept one myself
for about a year, which accompanied me in my voyages and became
very familiar, coming to me always on wet nights to share my
blanket. It is a most restless creature, but is not playful like
most of the American monkeys; the restlessness of its disposition
seeming to arise from great nervous irritability and discontent.
The anxious, painful, and changeable expression of its
countenance, and the want of purpose in its movements, betray
this. Its actions are like those of a wayward child; it does not
seem happy even when it has plenty of its favourite food,
bananas; but will leave its own meal to snatch the morsels out of
the hands of its companions. It differs in these mental traits
from its nearest kindred, for another common Cebus, found in the
same parts of the forest, the Prego monkey (Cebus cirrhifer?), is
a much quieter and better-tempered animal; it is full of tricks,
but these are generally of a playful character.

The Caiarara keeps the house in a perpetual uproar where it is
kept-- when alarmed, or hungry, or excited by envy, it screams
piteously; it is always, however, making some noise or other,
often screwing up its mouth and uttering a succession of loud
notes resembling a whistle. My little pet, when loose, used to
run after me, supporting itself for some distance on its hind
legs, without, however, having been taught to do it. He offended
me greatly one day, by killing, in one of his jealous fits,
another and much choicer pet--the nocturnal owl-faced monkey
(Nyctipithecus trivirgatus). Someone had given this a fruit,
which the other coveted, so the two got to quarrelling. The
Nyctipithecus fought only with its paws, clawing out and hissing
like a cat; the other soon obtained the mastery, and before I
could interfere, finished his rival by cracking its skull with
his teeth. Upon this, I got rid of him.

On recrossing the river to Aveyros in the evening, a pretty
little parrot fell from a great height headlong into the water
near the boat, having dropped from a flock which seemed to be
fighting in the air. One of the Indians secured it for me, and I
was surprised to find the bird uninjured. There had probably been
a quarrel about mates, resulting in our little stranger being
temporarily stunned by a blow on the head from the beak of a
jealous comrade. The species was the Conurus guianensis, called
by the natives Maracana-- the plumage green, with a patch of
scarlet under the wings. I wished to keep the bird alive and tame
it, but all our efforts to reconcile it to captivity were vain;
it refused food, bit everyone who went near it, and damaged its
plumage in its exertions to free itself. My friends in Aveyros
said that this kind of parrot never became domesticated. After
trying nearly a week I was recommended to lend the intractable
creature to an old Indian woman, living in the village, who was
said to be a skillful bird-tamer. In two days she brought it back
almost as tame as the familiar love-birds of our aviaries. I kept
my little pet for upwards of two years; it learned to talk pretty
well, and was considered quite a wonder as being a bird usually
so difficult of domestication. I do not know what arts the old
woman used-- Captain Antonio said she fed it with her saliva. The
chief reason why almost all animals become so wonderfully tame in
the houses of the natives is, I believe, their being treated with
uniform gentleness, and allowed to run at large about the rooms.
Our Maracana used to accompany us sometimes in our rambles, one
of the lads carrying it on his head. One day, in the middle of a
long forest road, it was missed, having clung probably to an
overhanging bough and escaped into the thicket without the boy
perceiving it. Three hours afterwards, on our return by the same
path, a voice greeted using a colloquial tone as we passed--
"Maracana!" We looked about for some time, but could not see
anything, until the word was repeated with emphasis-- "Maracana-
a!" When we espied the little truant half concealed in the
foliage of a tree, he came down and delivered himself up,
evidently as much rejoiced at the meeting as we were.

After I had obtained the two men promised, stout young Indians,
seventeen or eighteen years of age, one named Ricardo and the
other Alberto, I paid a second visit to the western side of the
river in my own canoe; being determined, if possible, to obtain
specimens of the White Cebus. We crossed over first to the
mission village, Santa Cruz, which consists of thirty or forty
wretched-looking mud huts, closely built together in three
straight ugly rows on a high gravelly bank. The place was
deserted, with the exception of two or three old men and women
and a few children. A narrow belt of wood runs behind the
village; beyond this is an elevated, barren campo with a clayey
and gravelly soil. To the south, the coast country is of a
similar description; a succession of scantily-wooded hills, bare
grassy spaces, and richly-timbered hollows. We traversed forest
and campo in various directions during three days without meeting
with monkeys, or indeed with anything that repaid us the time and
trouble. The soil of the district appeared too dry; at this
season of the year I had noticed, in other parts of the country,
that mammals and birds resorted to the more humid areas of
forest; we therefore proceeded to explore carefully the low and
partly swampy tract along the coast to the north of Santa Cruz.

We spent two days in this way landing at many places, and
penetrating a good distance in the interior. Although
unsuccessful with regard to the White Cebus, the time was not
wholly lost, as I added several small birds of species new to my
collection. On the second evening we surprised a large flock,
composed of about fifty individuals, of a curious eagle with a
very long and slender hooked beak, the Rostrhamus hamatus. They
were perched on the bushes which surrounded a shallow lagoon,
separated from the river by a belt of floating grass; my men said
they fed on toads and lizards found at the margins of pools. They
formed a beautiful sight as they flew up and wheeled about at a
great height in the air. We obtained only one specimen.

Before returning to Aveyros, we paid another visit to the Jacare
inlet-- leading to Captain Antonio's cattle farm, for the sake of
securing further specimens of the many rare and handsome insects
found there-- landing at the port of one of the settlers. The
owner of the house was not at home, and the wife, a buxom young
woman, a dark mameluca, with clear though dark complexion and
fine rosy cheeks, was preparing, in company with another stout-
built Amazon, her rod and lines to go out fishing for the day's
dinner. It was now the season for Tucunares, and Senora Joaquina
showed us the fly baits used to take this kind of fish, which she
had made with her own hands of parrots' feathers. The rods used
are slender bamboos, and the lines made from the fibres of pine-
apple leaves. It is not very common for the Indian and half-caste
women to provide for themselves in the way these spirited dames
were doing, although they are all expert paddlers, and very
frequently cross wide rivers in their frail boats without the aid
of men. It is possible that parties of Indian women, seen
travelling alone in this manner, may have given rise to the fable
of a nation of Amazons, invented by the first Spanish explorers
of the country.

Senora Joaquina invited me and Jose to a Tucunare dinner for the
afternoon, and then shouldering their paddles and tucking up
their skirts, the two dusky fisherwomen marched down to their
canoe. We sent the two Indians into the woods to cut palm-leaves
to mend the thatch of our cuberta, while Jose and I rambled
through the woods which skirted the campo. On our return, we
found a most bountiful spread in the house of our hostess. A
spotless white cloth was laid on the mat, with a plate for each
guest and a pile of fragrant, newly-made farinha by the side of
it. The boiled Tucunares were soon taken from the kettles and set
before us. I thought the men must be happy husbands who owned
such wives as these. The Indian and mameluco women certainly do
make excellent managers; they are more industrious than the men,
and most of them manufacture farinha for sale on their own
account, their credit always standing higher with the traders on
the river than that of their male connections. I was quite
surprised at the quantity of fish they had taken there being
sufficient for the whole party-- which included several children,
two old men from a neighbouring hut, and my Indians. I made our
good-natured entertainers a small present of needles and sewing-
cotton, articles very much prized, and soon after we reembarked,
and again crossed the river to Aveyros.

August 2nd--Left Aveyros, having resolved to ascend a branch
river, the Cupari, which enters the Tapajos about eight miles
above this village, instead of going forward along the main
stream. I should have liked to visit the settlements of the
Mundurucu tribe which lie beyond the first cataract of the
Tapajos, if it had been compatible with the other objects I had
in view. But to perform this journey a lighter canoe than mine
would have been necessary, and six or eight Indian paddlers,
which in my case it was utterly impossible to obtain. There would
be, however, an opportunity of seeing this fine race of people on
the Cupari, as a horde was located towards the head waters of
this stream. The distance from Aveyros to the last civilised
settlement on the Tapajos, Itaituba, is about forty miles. The
falls commence a short distance beyond this place. Ten formidable
cataracts or rapids then succeed each other at intervals of a few
miles, the chief of which are the Coaita, the Bubure, the Salto
Grande (about thirty feet high), and the Montanha. The canoes of
Cuyaba tradesmen which descend annually to Santarem are obliged
to be unloaded at each of these, and the cargoes carried by land
on the backs of Indians, while the empty vessels are dragged by
ropes over the obstruction. The Cupari was described to me as
flowing through a rich, moist clayey valley covered with forests
and abounding in game; while the banks of the Tapajos beyond
Aveyros were barren sandy campos, with ranges of naked or
scantily-wooded hills, forming a kind of country which I had
always found very unproductive in Natural History objects in the
dry season, which had now set in.

We entered the mouth of the Cupari on the evening of the
following day (August 3rd). It was not more than a hundred yards
wide, but very deep: we found no bottom in the middle with a line
of eight fathoms. The banks were gloriously wooded, the familiar
foliage of the cacao growing abundantly amongst the mass of other
trees, reminding me of the forests of the main Amazons. We rowed
for five or six miles, generally in a south-easterly direction,
although the river had many abrupt bends, and stopped for the
night at a settler's house, situated on a high bank, accessible
only by a flight of rude wooden steps fixed in the clayey <DW72>.
The owners were two brothers, half-breeds, who, with their
families, shared the large roomy dwelling; one of them was a
blacksmith, and we found him working with two Indian lads at his
forge in an open shed under the shade of mango trees. They were
the sons of a Portuguese immigrant who had settled here forty
years previously, and married a Mundurucu woman. He must have
been a far more industrious man than the majority of his
countrymen who emigrate to Brazil nowadays, for there were signs
of former extensive cultivation at the back of the house in
groves of orange, lemon, and coffee trees, and a large plantation
of cacao occupied the lower grounds.

The next morning one of the brothers brought me a beautiful
opossum, which had been caught in the fowl-house a little before
sunrise. It was not so large as a rat, and had soft brown fur,
paler beneath and on the face, with a black stripe on each cheek.
This made the third species of marsupial rat I had so far
obtained-- but the number of these animals is very considerable
in Brazil, where they take the place of the shrews of Europe;
shrew mice and, indeed, the whole of the insectivorous order of
mammals, being entirely absent from Tropical America. One kind of
these rat-like opossums is aquatic, and has webbed feet. The
terrestrial species are nocturnal in their habits, sleeping
during the day in hollow trees, and coming forth at night to prey
on birds in their roosting places. It is very difficult to rear
poultry in this country on account of these small opossums,
scarcely a night passing, in some parts, in which the fowls are
not attacked by them.

August 5th.--The river reminds me of some parts of the Jaburu
channel, being hemmed in by two walls of forest rising to the
height of at least a hundred feet, and the outlines of the trees
being concealed throughout by a dense curtain of leafy creepers.
The impression of vegetable profusion and overwhelming luxuriance
increases at every step. The deep and narrow valley of the Cupari
has a moister climate than the banks of the Tapajos. We have now
frequent showers, whereas we left everything parched up by the
sun at Aveyros.

After leaving the last sitio we advanced about eight miles, and
then stopped at the house of Senor Antonio Malagueita, a mameluco
settler, whom we had been recommended to visit. His house and
outbuildings were extensive, the grounds well weeded, and the
whole wore an air of comfort and well-being which is very
uncommon in this country. A bank of indurated white clay sloped
gently up from the tree-shaded port to the house, and beds of
kitchen herbs extended on each side, with (rare sight!) rose and
jasmine trees in full bloom. Senor Antonio, a rather tall middle-
aged man, with a countenance beaming with good nature, came down
to the port as soon as we anchored. I was quite a stranger to
him, but he had heard of my coming, and seemed to have made
preparations. I never met with a heartier welcome. On entering
the house, the wife, who had more of the Indian tint and features
than her husband, was equally warm and frank in her greeting.
Senor Antonio had spent his younger days at Para, and had
acquired a profound respect for Englishmen. I stayed here two
days. My host accompanied me in my excursions; in fact, his
attentions, with those of his wife, and the host of relatives of
all degrees who constituted his household, were quite
troublesome, as they left me not a moment's privacy from morning
till night.

We had, together, several long and successful rambles along a
narrow pathway which extended several miles into the forest. I
here met with a new insect pest, one which the natives may be
thankful is not spread more widely over the country: it was a
large brown fly of the Tabanidae family (genus Pangonia), with a
proboscis half an inch long and sharper than the finest needle.
It settled on our backs by twos and threes at a time, and pricked
us through our thick cotton shirts, making us start and cry out
with the sudden pain. I secured a dozen or two as specimens. As
an instance of the extremely confined ranges of certain species,
it may be mentioned that I did not find this insect in any other
part of the country except along half a mile or so of this gloomy
forest road.

We were amused at the excessive and almost absurd tameness of a
fine Mutum or Curassow turkey, that ran about the house. It was a
large glossy-black species (the Mitu tuberosa), having an orange-
 beak, surmounted by a bean-shaped excrescence of the
same hue. It seemed to consider itself as one of the family:
attending all the meals, passing from one person to another round
the mat to be fed, and rubbing the sides of its head in a coaxing
way against their cheeks or shoulders. At night it went to roost
on a chest in a sleeping-room beside the hammock of one of the
little girls to whom it seemed particularly attached
(regularlyfollowing her wherever she went about the grounds). I
found this kind of Curassow bird was very common in the forest of
the Cupari; but it is rare on the Upper Amazons, where an allied
species, which has a round instead of a bean-shaped waxen
excrescence on the beak (Crax globicera), is the prevailing kind.
These birds in their natural state never descend from the tops of
the loftiest trees, where they live in small flocks and build
their nests. The Mitu tuberosa lays two rough-shelled, white
eggs; it is fully as large a bird as the common turkey, but the
flesh when cooked is drier and not so well flavoured. It is
difficult to find the reason why these superb birds have not been
reduced to domestication by the Indians, seeing that they so
readily become tame. The obstacle offered by their not breeding
in confinement, which is probably owing to their arboreal habits,
might perhaps be overcome by repeated experiment; but for this
the Indians probably had not sufficient patience or intelligence.
The reason cannot lie in their insensibility to the value of such
birds, for the common turkey, which has been introduced into the
country, is much prized by them.

We had an unwelcome visitor while at anchor in the port of
Antonio Malagueita. I was awakened a little after midnight, as I
lay in my little cabin, by a heavy blow struck at the sides of
the canoe close to my head, which was succeeded by the sound of a
weighty body plunging into the water. I got up; but all was again
quiet, except the cackle of fowls in our hen-coop, which hung
over the side of the vessel about three feet from the cabin door.
I could find no explanation of the circumstance, and, my men
being all ashore, I turned in again and slept until morning. I
then found my poultry loose about the canoe, and a large rent in
the bottom of the hen-coop, which was about two feet from the
surface of the water-- a couple of fowls were missing. Senor
Antonio said the depredator was a Sucuruju (the Indian name for
the Anaconda, or great water serpent--Eunectes murinus), which
had for months past been haunting this part of the river, and had
carried off many ducks and fowls from the ports of various
houses. I was inclined to doubt the fact of a serpent striking at
its prey from the water, and thought an alligator more likely to
be the culprit, although we had not yet met with alligators in
the river.

Some days afterwards, the young men belonging to the different
sitios agreed together to go in search of the serpent. They began
in a systematicmanner, forming two parties, each embarked in
three or four canoes, and starting from points several miles
apart, whence they gradually approximated, searching all the
little inlets on both sides the river. The reptile was found at
last, sunning itself on a log at the mouth of a muddy rivulet,
and despatched with harpoons. I saw it the day after it was
killed; it was not a very large specimen, measuring only eighteen
feet nine inches in length, and sixteen inches in circumference
at the widest part of the body. I measured skins of the Anaconda
afterwards, twenty-one feet in length and two feet in girth. The
reptile has a most hideous appearance, owing to its being very
broad in the middle and tapering abruptly at both ends. It is
very abundant in some parts of the country; nowhere more so than
in the Lago Grande, near Santarem, where it is often seen coiled
up in the corners of farmyards, and is detested for its habit of
carrying off poultry, young calves, or whatever animal it can get
within reach of.

At Ega, a large Anaconda was once near making a meal of a young
lad about ten years of age, belonging to one of my neighbours.
The father and his son went, as was their custom, a few miles up
the Teffe to gather wild fruit, landing on a sloping sandy shore,
where the boy was left to mind the canoe while the man entered
the forest. The beaches of the Teffe form groves of wild guava
and myrtle trees, and during most months of the year are partly
overflown by the river. While the boy was playing in the water
under the shade of these trees, a huge reptile of this species
stealthily wound its coils around him, unperceived until it was
too late to escape. His cries brought the father quickly to the
rescue, who rushed forward, and seizing the Anaconda boldly by
the head, tore his jaws asunder. There appears to be no doubt
that this formidable serpent grows to an enormous bulk, and lives
to a great age, for I heard of specimens having been killed which
measured forty-two feet in length, or double the size of the
largest I had an opportunity to examine. The natives of the
Amazons country universally believe in the existence of a monster
water-serpent, said to be many score fathoms in length and which
appears successively in different parts of the river. They call
it the Mai d'agoa--the mother, or spirit, of the water. This
fable, which was doubtless suggested by the occasional appearance
of Sucurujus of unusually large size, takes a great variety of
forms, and the wild legends form the subject of conversation
amongst old and young, over the wood fires in lonely settlements.

August 6th and 7th--On leaving the sitio of Antonio Malagueita we
continued our way along the windings of the river, generally in a
southeast and south-southeast direction, but sometimes due north,
for about fifteen miles, when we stopped at the house of one
Paulo Christo, a mameluco whose acquaintance I had made at
Aveyros. Here we spent the night and part of the next day, doing
in the morning a good five hours' work in the forest, accompanied
by the owner of the place. In the afternoon of the 7th, we were
again under way; the river makes a bend to the east-northeast for
a short distance above Paulo Christo's establishment, and then
turns abruptly to the southwest, running from that direction
about four miles. The hilly country of the interior then
commences, the first token of it being a magnificently-wooded
bluff, rising nearly straight from the water to a height of about
250 feet. The breadth of the stream hereabout was not more than
sixty yards, and the forest assumed a new appearance from the
abundance of the Urucuri palm, a species which has a noble crown
of broad fronds with symmetrical rigid leaflets.

We reached, in the evening, the house of the last civilised
settler on the river, Senor Joao (John) Aracu, a wiry, active
fellow and capital hunter, whom I wished to make a friend of and
persuade to accompany me to the Mundurucu village and the falls
of the Cupari, some forty miles further up the river.I stayed at
the sitio of John Aracu until the 19th, and again, in descending,
spent fourteen days at the same place. The situation was most
favourable for collecting the natural products of the district.
The forest was not crowded with underwood, and pathways led
through it for many miles and in various directions. I could make
no use here of our two men as hunters, so, to keep them employed
while Jose and I worked daily in the woods, I set them to make a
montaria under John Aracu's directions. The first day a suitable
tree was found for the shell of the boat, of the kind called
Itauba amarello, the yellow variety of the stonewood. They felled
it, and shaped out of the trunk a log nineteen feet in length;
this they dragged from the forest, with the help of my host's
men, over a road they had previously made with cylindrical pieces
of wood acting as rollers. The distance was about half a mile,
and the ropes used for drawing the heavy load were tough lianas
cut from the surrounding trees. This part of the work occupied
about a week: the log had then to be hollowed out, which was done
with strong chisels through a slit made down the whole length.
The heavy portion of the task being then completed, nothing
remained but to widen the opening, fit two planks for the sides
and the same number of semicircular boards for the ends, make the
benches, and caulk the seams.

The expanding of the log thus hollowed out is a critical
operation, and not always successful, many a good shell being
spoiled from splitting or expanding irregularly. It is first
reared on tressels, with the slit downwards, over a large fire,
which is kept up for seven or eight hours, the process
requiringunremitting attention to avoid cracks and make the plank
bend with the proper dip at the two ends. Wooden straddlers, made
by cleaving pieces of tough elastic wood and fixing them with
wedges, are inserted into the opening, their compass being
altered gradually as the work goes on, but in different degrees
according to the part of the boat operated upon. Our casca turned
out a good one-- it took a long time to cool, and was kept in
shape whilst it did so by means of wooden cross-pieces. When the
boat was finished, it was launched with great merriment by the
men, who hoisted  handkerchiefs for flags, and paddled it
up and down the stream to try its capabilities. My people had
suffered as much inconvenience from the want of a montaria as
myself, so this was a day of rejoicing to all of us.

I was very successful at this place with regard to the objects of
my journey. About twenty new species of fishes and a considerable
number of small reptiles were added to my collection; but very
few birds were met with worth preserving. A great number of the
most conspicuous insects of the locality were new to me, and
turned out to be species peculiar to this part of the Amazons
valley. The most interesting acquisition was a large and handsome
monkey, of a species I had not before met with--the, white-
whiskered Coaita, or spider-monkey (Ateles marginatus). I saw a
pair one day in the forest moving slowly along the branches of a
lofty tree, and shot one of them; the next day John Aracu brought
down another, possibly the companion. The species is of about the
same size as the common black kind, of which I have given an
account in a former chapter, and has a similar lean body, with
limbs clothed with coarse black hair; but it differs in having
the whiskers and a triangular patch on the crown of the head of a
white colour. I thought the meat the best flavoured I had ever
tasted. It resembled beef, but had a richer and sweeter taste.
During the time of our stay in this part of the Cupari, we could
get scarcely anything but fish to eat, and as this diet disagreed
with me, three successive days of it reducing me to a state of
great weakness. I was obliged to make the most of our Coaita
meat. We smoke-dried the joints instead of salting them, placing
them for several hours upon a framework of sticks arranged over a
fire, a plan adopted by the natives to preserve fish when they
have no salt, and which they call "muquiar." Meat putrefies in
this climate in less than twenty-four hours, and salting is of no
use, unless the pieces are cut in thin slices anddried
immediately in the sun.

My monkeys lasted me about: a fortnight, the last joint being an
arm with the clenched fist, which I used with great economy,
hanging it in the intervals, between my frugal meals, on a nail
in the cabin. Nothing but the hardest necessity could have driven
me so near to cannibalism as this, but we had the greatest
difficulty in obtaining here a sufficient supply of animal food.
About every three days the work on the montaria had to be
suspended, and all hands turned out for the day to hunt and fish,
in which they were often unsuccessful, for although there was
plenty of game in the forest, it was too widely scattered to be
available. Ricardo, and Alberto occasionally brought in a
tortoise or anteater, which served us for one day's consumption.
We made acquaintance here with many strange dishes, amongst them
Iguana eggs; these are of oblong form, about an inch in length,
and covered with a flexible shell. The lizard lays about two
score of them in the hollows of trees. They have an oily taste;
the men ate them raw, beaten up with farinha, mixing a pinch of
salt in the mess; I could only do with them when mixed with
Tucupi sauce, of which we had a large jar full always ready to
temper unsavoury morsels.

One day as I was entomologising alone and unarmed, in a dry
Ygapo, where the trees were rather wide apart and the ground
coated to the depth of eight or ten inches with dead leaves, I
was near coming into collision with a boa constrictor. I had just
entered a little thicket to capture an insect, and while pinning
it was rather startled by a rushing noise in the vicinity. I
looked up to the sky, thinking a squall was coming on, but not a
breath of wind stirred in the tree-tops. On stepping out of the
bushes I met face to face a huge serpent coming down a <DW72>,
making the dry twigs crack and fly with his weight as he moved
over them. I had very frequently met with a smaller boa, the
Cutim-boia, in a similar way, and knew from the habits of the
family that there was no danger, so I stood my ground. On seeing
me the reptile suddenly turned and glided at an accelerated pace
down the path. Wishing to take a note of his probable size and
the colours and markings of his skin, I set off after him; but he
increased his speed, and I was unable to get near enough for the
purpose. There was very little of the serpentine movement in his
course. The rapidly moving and shining body looked like a stream
of brown liquid flowing over the thick bed of fallen leaves,
rather than a serpent with skin of varied colours. He descended
towards the lower and moister parts of the Ygapo. The huge trunk
of an uprooted tree here lay across the road; this he glided over
in his undeviating course and soon after penetrated a dense
swampy thicket, where of course I did not choose to follow him.

I suffered terribly from heat and mosquitoes as the river sank
with the increasing dryness of the season, although I made an
awning of the sails to work under, and slept at night in the open
air with my hammock slung between the masts. But there was no
rest in any part; the canoe descended deeper and deeper into the
gulley through which the river flows between high clayey banks;
as the water subsided, and with the glowing sun overhead we felt
at midday as if in a furnace. I could bear scarcely any clothes
in the daytime between eleven in the morning and five in the
afternoon, wearing nothing but loose and thin cotton trousers and
a light straw hat, and could not be accommodated in John Aracu's
house, as it was a small one and full of noisy children. One
night we had a terrific storm. The heat in the afternoon had been
greater than ever, and at sunset the sky had a brassy glare, the
black patches of cloud which floated in it being lighted up now
and then by flashes of sheet lightning. The mosquitoes at night
were more than usually troublesome, and I had just sunk exhausted
into a doze towards the early hours of morning when the storm
began-- a complete deluge of rain, with incessant lightning and
rattling explosions of thunder. It lasted for eight hours, the
grey dawn opening amidst the crash of the tempest. The rain
trickled through the seams of the cabin roof on to my
collections, the late hot weather having warped the boards, and
it gave me immense trouble to secure them in the midst of the
confusion. Altogether I had a bad night of it; but what with
storms, heat, mosquitoes, hunger, and, towards the last, ill
health, I seldom had a good night's rest on the Cupari.

A small creek traversed the forest behind John Aracu's house, and
entered the river a few yards from our anchoring place; I used to
cross it twice a day, on going and returning from my hunting
ground. One day early in September, I noticed that the water was
two or three inches higher in the afternoon than it had been in
the morning. This phenomenon was repeated the next day, and in
fact daily, until the creek became dry with the continued
subsidence of the Cupari, the time of rising shifting a little
from day to day. I pointed out the circumstance to John Aracu,
who had not noticed it before (it was only his second year of
residence in the locality), but agreed with me that it must be
the "mare"; yes, the tide!-- the throb of the great oceanic pulse
felt in this remote corner, 530 miles distant from the place
where it first strikes the body of fresh water at the mouth of
the Amazons. I hesitated at first at this conclusion, but in
reflecting that the tide was known to be perceptible at Obydos,
more than 400 miles from the sea, that at high water in the dry
season a large flood from the Amazons enters the mouth of the
Tapajos, and that there is but a very small difference of level
between that point and the Cupari, a fact shown by the absence of
current in the dry season. I could have no doubt that this
conclusion was a correct one.

The fact of the tide being felt 530 miles up the Amazons, passing
from the main stream to one of its affluents 380 miles from its
mouth, and thence to a branch in the third degree, is a proof of
the extreme flatness of the land which forms the lower part of
the Amazonian valley. This uniformity of level is shown also in
the broad lake-like expanses of water formed near their mouths by
the principal affluents which cross the valley to join the main
river.

August 21st.--John Aracu consented to accompany me to the falls
with one of his men to hunt and fish for me. One of my objects
was to obtain specimens of the hyacinthine macaw, whose range
commences on all the branch rivers of the Amazons which flow from
the south through the interior of Brazil, with the first
cataracts. We started on the 19th; our direction on that day
being generally southwest. On the 20th, our course was southerly
and southeasterly. This morning (August 21st) we arrived at the
Indian settlement, the first house of which lies about thirty-one
miles above the sitio of John Aracu. The river at this place is
from sixty to seventy yards wide, and runs in a zigzag course
between steep clayey banks, twenty to fifty feet in height. The
houses of the Mundurucus, to the number of about thirty, are
scattered along the banks for a distance of six or seven miles.
The owners appear to have chosen all the most picturesque sites--
tracts of level ground at the foot of wooded heights, or little
havens with bits of white sandy beach--as if they had an
appreciation of natural beauty. Most of the dwellings are conical
huts, with walls of framework filled in with mud and thatched
with palm leaves, the broad eaves reaching halfway to the ground.
Some are quadrangular, and do not differ in structure from those
of the semi-civilised settlers in other parts; others are open
sheds or ranchos. They seem generally to contain not more than
one or two families each.

At the first house, we learned that all the fighting men had this
morning returned from a two days' pursuit of a wandering horde of
savages of the Pararauate tribe, who had strayed this way from
the interior lands and robbed the plantations. A little further
on we came to the house of the Tushaua, or chief, situated on the
top of a high bank, which we had to ascend by wooden steps. There
were four other houses in the neighbourhood, all filled with
people. A fine old fellow, with face, shoulders, and breast
tattooed all over in a cross-bar pattern, was the first strange
object that caught my eye. Most of the men lay lounging or
sleeping in their hammocks. The women were employed in an
adjoining shed making farinha, many of them being quite naked,
and rushing off to the huts to slip on their petticoats when they
caught sight of us. Our entrance aroused the Tushaua from a nap;
after rubbing his eyes he came forward and bade us welcome with
the most formal politeness, and in very good Portuguese. He was a
tall, broad-shouldered, well-made man, apparently about thirty
years of age, with handsome regular features, not tattooed, and a
quiet good-humoured expression of countenance. He had been
several times to Santarem and once to Para, learning the
Portuguese language during these journeys. He was dressed in
shirt and trousers made of blue-checked cotton cloth, and there
was not the slightest trace of the savage in his appearance or
demeanour. I was told that he had come into the chieftainship by
inheritance, and that the Cupari horde of Mundurucus, over which
his fathers had ruled before him, was formerly much more
numerous, furnishing 300 bows in time of war. They could now
scarcely muster forty; but the horde has no longer a close
political connection with the main body of the tribe, which
inhabits the banks of the Tapajos, six days' journey from the
Cupari settlement.

I spent the remainder of the day here, sending Aracu and the men
to fish, while I amused myself with the Tushaua and his people. A
few words served to explain my errand on the river; he
comprehended at once why white men should admire and travel to
collect the beautiful birds and animals of his country, and
neither he nor his people spoke a single word about trading, or
gave us any trouble by coveting the things we had brought. He
related to me the events of the preceding three days. The
Pararauates were a tribe of intractable savages, with whom the
Mundurucus have been always at war. They had no fixed abode, and
of course made no plantations, but passed their lives like the
wild beasts, roaming through the forest, guided by the sun;
wherever they found themselves at night-time there they slept,
slinging their bast hammocks, which are carried by the women, to
the trees. They cross the streams which lie in their course in
bark canoes, which they make on reaching the water, and cast away
after landing on the opposite side. The tribe is very numerous,
but the different hordes obey only their own chieftains. The
Mundurucus of the upper Tapajos have an expedition on foot
against them at the present time, and the Tushaua supposed that
the horde which had just been chased from his maloca were
fugitives from that direction. There were about a hundred of
them--including men, women, and children. Before they were
discovered, the hungry savages had uprooted all the macasheira,
sweet potatoes, and sugarcane, which the industrious Mundurucus
had planted for the season, on the east side of the river. As
soon as they were seen they made off, but the Tushaua quickly got
together all the young men of the settlement, about thirty in
number, who armed themselves with guns, bows and arrows, and
javelins, and started in pursuit. They tracked them, as before
related, for two days through the forest, but lost their traces
on the further bank of the Cuparitinga, a branch stream flowing
from the northeast. The pursuers thought, at one time, they were
close upon them, having found the inextinguished fire of their
last encampment. The footmarks of the chief could be
distinguished from the rest by their great size and the length of
the stride. A small necklace made of scarlet beans was the only
trophy of the expedition, and this the Tushaua gave to me.

I saw very little of the other male Indians, as they were asleep
in their huts all the afternoon. There were two other tattooed
men lying under an open shed, besides the old man already
mentioned. One of them presented a strange appearance, having a
semicircular black patch in the middle of his face, covering the
bottom of the nose and mouth, crossed lines on his back and
breast, and stripes down his arms and legs. It is singular that
the graceful curved patterns used by the South Sea Islanders are
quite unknown among the Brazilian red men; they being all
tattooed either in simple lines or patches.  The nearest approach
to elegance of design which I saw was amongst the Tucunas of the
Upper Amazons, some of whom have a scroll-like mark on each
cheek, proceeding from the corner of the mouth. The taste, as far
as form is concerned, of the American Indian, would seem to be
far less refined than that of the Tahitian and New Zealander.

To amuse the Tushaua, I fetched from the canoe the two volumes of
Knight's Pictorial Museum of Animated Nature. The engravings
quite took his fancy, and he called his wives, of whom, as I
afterwards learned from Aracu, he had three or four, to look at
them; one of them was a handsome girl, decorated with necklace
and bracelets of blue beads. In a short time, others left their
work, and I then had a crowd of women and children around me, who
all displayed unusual curiosity for Indians. It was no light task
to go through the whole of the illustrations, but they would not
allow me to miss a page, making me turn back when I tried to
skip. The pictures of the elephant, camels, orangutangs, and
tigers, seemed most to astonish them; but they were interested in
almost everything, down even to the shells and insects. They
recognised the portraits of the most striking birds and mammals
which are found in their own country-- the jaguar, howling
monkeys, parrots, trogons, and toucans. The elephant was settled
to be a large kind of Tapir; but they made but few remarks, and
those in the Mundurucu language, of which I understood only two
or three words. Their way of expressing surprise was a clicking
sound made with the teeth, similar to the one we ourselves use,
or a subdued exclamation, Hm! hm! Before I finished, from fifty
to sixty had assembled; there was no pushing or rudeness, the
grown-up women letting the young girls and children stand before
them, and all behaved in the most quiet and orderly manner
possible.

The Mundurucus are perhaps the most numerous and formidable tribe
of Indians now surviving in the Amazons region. They inhabit the
shores of the Tapajos (chiefly the right bank), from 3 to 7 south
latitude, and the interior of the country between that part of
the river and the Madeira. On the Tapajos alone they can muster,
I was told, 2000 fighting men; the total population of the tribe
may be about 20,000. They were not heard of until about ninety
years ago, when they made war on the Portuguese settlements,
their hosts crossing the interior of the country eastward of the
Tapajos, and attacking the establishments of the whites in the
province of Maranham. The Portuguese made peace with them in the
beginning of the present century, the event being brought about
by the common cause of quarrel entertained by the two peoples
against the hated Muras. They have ever since been firm friends
of the whites. It is remarkable how faithfully this friendly
feeling has been handed down amongst the Mundurucus, and spread
to the remotest of the scattered hordes. Wherever a white man
meets a family, or even an individual of the tribe, he is almost
sure to be reminded of this alliance. They are the most warlike
of the Brazilian tribes, and are considered also the most settled
and industrious; they are not, however, superior in this latter
respect to the Juris and Passes on the Upper Amazons, or the
Uapes Indians near the headwaters of the Rio <DW64>. They make
very large plantations of mandioca, and sell the surplus produce,
which amounts to, on the Tapajos, from 3000 to 5000 baskets (60
lbs. each) annually, to traders who ascend the river from
Santarem between the months of August and January. They also
gather large quantities of sarsaparilla, India-rubber, and Tonka
beans, in the forests. The traders, on their arrival at the
Campinas (the scantily wooded region inhabited by the main body
of Mundurucus beyond the cataracts) have first to distribute
their wares--cheap cotton cloths, iron hatchets, cutlery, small
wares, and cashaca--amongst the minor chiefs, and then wait three
or four months for repayment in produce.

A rapid change is taking place in the habits of these Indians
through frequent intercourse with the whites, and those who dwell
on the banks of the Tapajos now seldom tattoo their children. The
principal Tushaua of the whole tribe or nation, named Joaquim,
was rewarded with a commission in the Brazilian army, in
acknowledgment of the assistance he gave to the legal authorities
during the rebellion of 1835-6. It would be a misnomer to call
the Mundurucus of the Cupari and many parts of the Tapajos
savages; their regular mode of life, agricultural habits, loyalty
to their chiefs, fidelity to treaties, and gentleness of
demeanour, give them a right to a better title. Yet they show no
aptitude for the civilised life of towns, and, like the rest of
the Brazilian tribes, seem incapable of any further advance in
culture.

In their former wars they exterminated two of the neighbouring
peoples, the Jumas and the Jacares, and make now an annual
expedition against the Pararauates, and one or two other similar
wild tribes who inhabit the interior of the land. Additionally
they are sometimes driven by hunger towards the banks of the
great rivers to rob the plantations of the agricultural Indians.
These campaigns begin in July, and last throughout the dry
months; the women generally accompanying the warriors to carry
their arrows and javelins. They had the diabolical custom, in
former days, of cutting off the heads of their slain enemies, and
preserving them as trophies around their houses. I believe this,
together with other savage practices, has been relinquished in
those parts where they have had long intercourse with the
Brazilians, for I could neither see nor hear anything of these
preserved heads. They used to sever the head with knives made of
broad bamboo, and then, after taking out the brain and fleshy
parts, soak it in bitter vegetable oil (andiroba), and expose it
for several days over the smoke of a fire or in the sun. In the
tract of country between the Tapajos and the Madeira, a deadly
war has been for many years carried on between the Mundurucus and
the Araras. I was told by a Frenchman at Santarem, who had
visited that part, that all the settlements there have a military
organisation. A separate shed is built outside each village,
where the fighting men sleep at night, sentinels being stationed
to give the alarm with blasts of the Ture on the approach of the
Araras, who choose the night for their onslaughts.

Each horde of Mundurucus has its paje or medicine man, who is the
priest and doctor; he fixes upon the time most propitious for
attacking the enemy; exorcises evil spirits, and professes to
cure the sick. All illness whose origin is not very apparent is
supposed to be caused by a worm in the part affected. This the
paje pretends to extract; he blows on the seat of pain the smoke
from a large cigar, made with an air of great mystery by rolling
tobacco in folds of Tauari, and then sucks the place, drawing
from his mouth, when he has finished, what he pretends to be the
worm. It is a piece of very clumsy conjuring. One of these pajes
was sent for by a woman in John Aracu's family, to operate on a
child who suffered much from pains in the head. Senor John
contrived to get possession of the supposed worm after the trick
was performed in our presence, and it turned out to be a long
white airroot of some plant. The paje was with difficulty
persuaded to operate while Senor John and I were present. I
cannot help thinking that he, as well as all others of the same
profession, are conscious impostors, handing down the shallow
secret of their divinations and tricks from generation to
generation. The institution seems to be common to all tribes of
Indians, and to be held to more tenaciously than any other.

I bought of the Tushaua two beautiful feather sceptres, with
their bamboo cases. These are of cylindrical shape, about three
feet in length and three inches in diameter, and are made by
gluing with wax the fine white and yellow feathers from the
breast of the toucan on stout rods, the tops being ornamented
with long plumes from the tails of parrots, trogons, and other
birds. The Mundurucus are considered to be the most expert
workers in feathers of all the South American tribes. It is very
difficult, however, to get them to part with the articles, as
they seem to have a sort of superstitious regard for them. They
manufacture headdresses, sashes, and tunics, besides sceptres;
the feathers being assorted with a good eye to the proper
contrast of colours, and the quills worked into strong cotton
webs, woven with knitting sticks in the required shape. The
dresses are worn only during their festivals, which are
celebrated, not at stated times, but whenever the Tushaua thinks
fit. Dancing, singing, sports, and drinking, appear to be the
sole objects of these occasional holidays. When a day is fixed
upon, the women prepare a great quantity of taroba, and the
monotonous jingle is kept up, with little intermission, night and
day, until the stimulating beverage is finished.

We left the Tushaua's house early the next morning. The
impression made upon me by the glimpse of Indian life in its
natural state obtained here, and at another cluster of houses
visited higher up, was a pleasant one, notwithstanding the
disagreeable incident of the Pararauate visit. The Indians are
here seen to the best advantage; having relinquished many of
their most barbarous practices, without being corrupted by too
close contact with the inferior whites and half-breeds of the
civilised settlements. The manners are simpler, the demeanour
more gentle, cheerful, and frank, than amongst the Indians who
live near the towns. I could not help contrasting their well-fed
condition, and the signs of orderly, industrious habits, with the
poverty and laziness of the semi-civilised people of Altar do
Chao. I do not think that the introduction of liquors has been
the cause of much harm to the Brazilian Indian. He has his
drinking bout now and then, like the common working people of
other countries. It was his habit in his original state, before
Europeans visited his country, but he is always ashamed of it
afterwards, and remains sober during the pretty long intervals.
The harsh, slave-driving practices of the Portuguese and their
descendants have been the greatest curses to the Indians; the
Mundurucus of the Cupari, however, have been now for many years
protected against ill-treatment. This is one of the good services
rendered by the missionaries, who take care that the Brazilian
laws in favour of the aborigines shall be respected by the brutal
and unprincipled traders who go amongst them. I think no Indians
could be in a happier position than these simple, peaceful, and
friendly people on the banks of the Cupari. The members of each
family live together, and seem to be much attached to each other;
and the authority of the chief is exercised in the mildest
manner. Perpetual summer reigns around them; the land is of the
highest fertility, and a moderate amount of light work produces
them all the necessessities of their simple life.

It is difficult to get at their notions on subjects that require
a little abstract thought; but, the mind of the Indian is in a
very primitive condition. I believe he thinks of nothing except
the matters that immediately concern his daily material wants.
There is an almost total absence of curiosity in his mental
disposition, consequently, he troubles himself very little
concerning the causes of the natural phenomena around him. He has
no idea of a Supreme Being; but, at the same time, he is free
from revolting superstitions--his religious notions going no
farther than the belief in an evil spirit, regarded merely as a
kind of hobgoblin, who is at the bottom of all his little
failures, troubles in fishing, hunting, and so forth. With so
little mental activity, and with feelings and passions slow of
excitement, the life of these people is naturally monotonous and
dull, and their virtues are, properly speaking, only negative;
but the picture of harmless, homely contentment they exhibit is
very pleasing, compared with the state of savage races in many
other parts of the world.

The men awoke me at four o'clock with the sound of their oars on
leaving the port of the Tushaua. I was surprised to find a dense
fog veiling all surrounding objects, and the air quite cold. The
lofty wall of forest, with the beautiful crowns of Assai palms
standing out from it on their slender, arching stems, looked dim
and strange through the misty curtain. The sudden change a little
after sunrise had quite a magical effect, for the mist rose up
like the gauze veil before the transformation scene at a
pantomime, and showed the glorious foliage in the bright glow of
morning, glittering with dew drops. We arrived at the falls about
ten o'clock. The river here is not more than forty yards broad,
and falls over a low ledge of rock stretching in a nearly
straight line across.

We had now arrived at the end of the navigation for large
vessels--a distance from the mouth of the river, according to our
rough calculation, of a little over seventy miles. I found it the
better course now to send Jose and one of the men forward in the
montaria with John Aracu, and remain myself with the cuberta and
our other man to collect in the neighbouring forest. We stayed
here four days, one of the boats returning each evening from the
upper river with the produce of the day's chase of my huntsmen. I
obtained six good specimens of the hyacinthine macaw, besides a
number of smaller birds, a species new to me of Guariba, or
howling monkey, and two large lizards. The Guariba was an old
male, with the hair much worn from his rump and breast, and his
body disfigured with large tumours made by the grubs of a gad-fly
(Oestrus). The back and tail were of a ruddy-brown colour, the
limbs, and underside of the body, black. The men ascended to the
second falls, which form a cataract several feet in height, about
fifteen miles beyond our anchorage. The macaws were found feeding
in small flocks on the fruit of the Tucuma palm (Astryocaryum
Tucuma), the excessively hard nut of which is crushed into pulp
by the powerful beak of the bird. I found the craws of all the
specimens filled with the sour paste to which the stone-like
fruit had been reduced. Each bird took me three hours to skin,
and I was occupied with these and my other specimens every
evening until midnight, after my own laborious day's hunt--
working on the roof of my cabin by the light of a lamp.

The place where the cuberta was anchored formed a little rocky
haven, with a sandy beach sloping to the forest, within which
were the ruins of an Indian Maloca, and a large weed-grown
plantation. The port swarmed with fishes, whose movements it was
amusing to watch in the deep, clear water. The most abundant were
the Piranhas. One species, which varied in length, according to
age, from two to six inches, but was recognisable by a black spot
at the root of the tail, was always the quickest to seize any
fragment of meat thrown into the water. When nothing was being
given to them, a few only were seen scattered about, their heads
all turned one way in an attitude of expectation; but as soon as
any offal fell from the canoe, the water was blackened with the
shoals that rushed instantaneously to the spot. Those who did not
succeed in securing a fragment, fought with those who had been
more successful, and many contrived to steal the coveted morsels
from their mouths. When a bee or fly passed through the air near
the water, they all simultaneously darted towards it as if roused
by an electric shock. Sometimes a larger fish approached, and
then the host of Piranhas took the alarm and flashed out of
sight.

The population of the water varied from day to day. Once a small
shoal of a handsome black-banded fish, called by the natives
Acara bandeira (Mesonauta insignis, of Gunther), came gliding
through at a slow pace, forming a very pretty sight. At another
time, little troops of needle-fish, eel-like animals with
excessively long and slender toothed jaws, sailed through the
field, scattering before them the hosts of smaller fry; and at
the rear of the needle-fishes, a strangely-shaped kind called
Sarapo came wriggling along, one by one, with a slow movement. We
caught with hook and line, baited with pieces of banana, several
Curimata (Anodus Amazonum), a most delicious fish, which, next to
the Tucunare and the Pescada, is most esteemed by the natives.
The Curimata seemed to prefer the middle of the stream, where the
waters were agitated beneath the little cascade.

The weather was now settled and dry, and the river sank rapidly--
six inches in twenty-four hours. In this remote and solitary spot
I can say that I heard for the first and almost the only time the
uproar of life at sunset, which Humboldt describes as having
witnessed towards the sources of the Orinoco, but which is
unknown on the banks of the larger rivers. The noises of animals
began just as the sun sank behind the trees after a sweltering
afternoon, leaving the sky above of the intensest shade of blue.
Two flocks of howling monkeys, one close to our canoe, the other
about a furlong distant, filled the echoing forests with their
dismal roaring. Troops of parrots, including the hyacinthine
macaw we were in search of, began then to pass over; the
different styles of cawing and screaming of the various species
making a terrible discord. Added to these noises were the songs
of strange Cicadas, one large kind perched high on the trees
around our little haven setting up a most piercing chirp. it
began with the usual harsh jarring tone of its tribe, but this
gradually and rapidly became shriller, until it ended in a long
and loud note resembling the steam-whistle of a locomotive
engine. Half-a-dozen of these wonderful performers made a
considerable item in the evening concert. I had heard the same
species before at Para, but it was there very uncommon; we
obtained one of them here for my collection by a lucky blow with
a stone. The uproar of beasts, birds, and insects lasted but a
short time: the sky quickly lost its intense hue, and the night
set in. Then began the tree-frogs--quack-quack, drum-drum, hoo-
hoo; these, accompanied by a melancholy night-jar, kept up their
monotonous cries until very late.

My men encountered on the banks of the stream a Jaguar and a
black Tiger, and were very much afraid of falling in with the
Pararauates, so that I could not, after their return on the
fourth day, induce them to undertake another journey. We began
our descent of the river in the evening of the 26th of August. At
night forest and river were again enveloped in mist, and the air
before sunrise was quite cold. There is a considerable current
from the falls to the house of John Aracu, and we accomplished
the distance, with its aid and by rowing, in seventeen hours.

September 21st.-At five o'clock in the afternoon we emerged from
the confined and stifling gully through which the Cupari flows,
into the broad Tapajos, and breathed freely again. How I enjoyed
the extensive view after being so long pent up: the mountainous
coasts, the grey distance, the dark waters tossed by a refreshing
breeze! Heat, mosquitoes, insufficient and bad food, hard work
and anxiety, had brought me to a very low state of health; and I
was now anxious to make all speed back to Santarem.

We touched at Aveyros, to embark some chests I had left there and
to settle accounts with Captain Antonio, and found nearly all the
people sick with fever and vomit, against which the Padre's
homoeopathic globules were of no avail. The Tapajos had been
pretty free from epidemics for some years past, although it was
formerly a very unhealthy river. A sickly time appeared to be now
returning; in fact, the year following my visit (1853) was the
most fatal one ever experienced in this part of the country. A
kind of putrid fever broke out, which attacked people of all
races alike. The accounts we received at Santarem were most
distressing-- my Cupari friends especially suffered very
severely. John Aracu and his family all fell victims, with the
exception of his wife; my kind friend Antonio Malagueita also
died, and a great number of people in the Mundurucu village.

The descent of the Tapajos in the height of the dry season, which
was now close at hand, is very hazardous on account of the strong
winds, absence of current, and shoaly water far away from the
coasts. The river towards the end of September is about thirty
feet shallower than in June; and in many places, ledges of rock
are laid bare, or covered with only a small depth of water. I had
been warned of these circumstances by my Cupari friends, but did
not form an adequate idea of what we should have to undergo.
Canoes, in descending, only travel at night, when the terral, or
light land-breeze, blows off the eastern shore. In the daytime a
strong wind rages from down river, against which it is impossible
to contend as there is no current, and the swell raised by its
sweeping over scores of miles of shallow water is dangerous to
small vessels. The coast for the greater part of the distance
affords no shelter; there are, however, a number of little
harbours, called esperas, which the canoemen calculate upon,
carefully arranging each night-voyage so as to reach one of them
before the wind begins the next morning.

We left Aveyros in the evening of the 21st, and sailed gently
down with the soft land-breeze, keeping about a mile from the
eastern shore. It was a brilliant moonlit night, and the men
worked cheerfully at the oars when the wind was slack, the terral
wafting from the forest a pleasant perfume like that of
mignonette. At midnight we made a fire and got a cup of coffee,
and at three o'clock in the morning reached the sitio of
Ricardo's father, an Indian named Andre, where we anchored and
slept.

September 22nd--Old Andre with his squaw came aboard this
morning. They brought three Tracajas, a turtle, and a basketful
of Tracaja eggs, to exchange with me for cotton cloth and
cashaca. Ricardo, who had been for some time very discontented,
having now satisfied his longing to see his parents, cheerfully
agreed to accompany me to Santarem. The loss of a man at this
juncture would have been very annoying, with Captain Antonio ill
at Aveyros, and not a hand to be had anywhere in the
neighbourhood; but, if we had not called at Andre's sitio, we
should not have been able to have kept Ricardo from running away
at the first landing-place. He was a lively, restless lad, and
although impudent and troublesome at first, had made a very good
servant. His companion, Alberto, was of quite a different
disposition, being extremely taciturn, and going through all his
duties with the quietest regularity.

We left at 11 a.m., and progressed a little before the wind began
to blow from down river, when we were obliged again to cast
anchor. The terral began at six o'clock in the evening, and we
sailed with it past the long line of rock-bound coast near
Itapuama. At ten o'clock a furious blast of wind came from a
cleft between the hills, catching us with the sails close-hauled,
and throwing the canoe nearly on its beam-ends, when we were
about a mile from the shore. Jose had the presence of mind to
slacken the sheet of the mainsail, while I leapt forward and
lowered the sprit of the foresail, the two Indians standing
stupefied in the prow. It was what the canoe-men call a trovoada
secca or white squall. The river in a few minutes became a sheet
of foam; the wind ceased in about half an hour, but the terral
was over for the night, so we pulled towards the shore to find an
anchoring place.

We reached Tapaiuna by midnight on the 23rd, and on the morning
of the 24th arrived at the Retiro, where we met a shrewd Santarem
trader, whom I knew, Senor Chico Honorio, who had a larger and
much better provided canoe than our own. The wind was strong from
below all day, so we remained at this place in his company. He
had his wife with him, and a number of Indians, male and female.
We slung our hammocks under the trees, and breakfasted and dined
together, our cloth being spread on the sandy beach in the shade
after killing a large quantity of fish with timbo, of which we
had obtained a supply at Itapuama. At night we were again under
way with the land breeze. The water was shoaly to a great
distance off the coast, and our canoe having the lighter draught
went ahead, our leadsman crying out the soundings to our
companion-- the depth was only one fathom, half a mile from the
coast. We spent the next day (25th) at the mouth of a creek
called Pini, which is exactly opposite the village of Boim, and
on the following night advanced about twelve miles. Every point
of land had a long spit of sand stretching one or two miles
towards the middle of the river, which it was necessary to double
by a wide circuit. The terral failed us at midnight when we were
near an espera, called Marai, the mouth of a shallow creek.

September 26th.--I did not like the prospect of spending the
whole dreary day at Marai, where it was impossible to ramble
ashore, the forest being utterly impervious, and the land still
partly under water. Besides, we had used up our last stick of
firewood to boil our coffee at sunrise, and could not get a fresh
supply at this place. So there being a dead calm on the river in
the morning, I gave orders at ten o'clock to move out of the
harbour, and try with the oars to reach Paquiatuba, which was
only five miles distant. We had doubled the shoaly point which
stretches from the mouth of the creek, and were making way
merrily across the bay, at the head of which was the port of the
little settlement, when we beheld to our dismay, a few miles down
the river, the signs of the violent day breeze coming down upon
us--a long, rapidly advancing line of foam with the darkened
water behind it. Our men strove in vain to gain the harbour; the
wind overtook us, and we cast anchor in three fathoms, with two
miles of shoaly water between us and the land on our lee. It came
with the force of a squall: the heavy billows washing over the
vessel and drenching us with the spray. I did not expect that our
anchor would hold; I gave out, however, plenty of cable and
watched the result at the prow, Jose placing himself at the helm,
and the men standing by the jib and foresail, so as to be ready
if we dragged to attempt the passage of the Marai spit, which was
now almost dead to leeward. Our little bit of iron, however, held
its place; the bottom being fortunately not so sandy as in most
other parts of the coast; but our weak cable then began to cause
us anxiety.

We remained in this position all day without food, for everything
was tossing about in the hold; provision-chests, baskets,
kettles, and crockery. The breeze increased in strength towards
the evening, when the sun set fiery red behind the misty hills on
the western shore, and the gloom of the scene was heightened by
the strange contrasts of colour; the inky water and the lurid
gleam of the sky. Heavy seas beat now and then against the prow
of our vessel with a force that made her shiver. If we had gone
ashore in this place, all my precious collections would have been
inevitably lost; but we ourselves could have scrambled easily to
land, and re-embarked with Senor Honorio, who had remained behind
in the Pini, and would pass in the course of two or three days.
When night came I lay down exhausted with watching and fatigue,
and fell asleep, as my men had done sometime before. About nine
o'clock, I was awakened by the montaria bumping against the sides
of the vessel, which had veered suddenly round, and the full
moon, previously astern, then shone full in the cabin. The wind
had abruptly ceased, giving place to light puffs from the eastern
shore, and leaving a long swell rolling into the shoaly bay.

After this, I resolved not to move a step beyond Paquiatuba
without an additional man, and one who understood the navigation
of the river at this season. We reached the landing-place at ten
o'clock, and anchored within the mouth of the creek. In the
morning I walked through the beautiful shady alleys of the
forest, which were waterpaths in June when we touched here in
ascending the river to the house of Inspector Cypriano. After an
infinite deal of trouble, I succeeded in persuading him to
furnish me with another Indian. There are about thirty families
established in this place, but the able-bodied men had been
nearly all drafted off within the last few weeks by the
Government, to accompany a military expedition against runaway
<DW64>s, settled in villages in the interior. Senor Cypriano was
a pleasant-looking and extremely civil young Mameluco. He
accompanied us, on the night of the 28th, five miles down the
river to Point Jaguarari, where the man lived whom he intended to
send with me. I was glad to find my new hand a steady, middle-
aged and married Indian; his name was of very good promise,
Angelo Custodio (Guardian Angel).

Point Jaguarari forms at this season of the year a high sandbank,
which is prolonged as a narrow spit, stretching about three miles
towards the middle of the river. We rounded this with great
difficulty on the night of the 29th, reaching before daylight a
good shelter behind a similar sandbank at Point Acaratingari, a
headland situated not more than five miles in a straight line
from our last anchoring place. We remained here all day; the men
beating timbo in a quiet pool between the sandbank and the
mainland, and obtaining a great quantity of fish, from which I
selected six species new to my collection. We made rather better
progress the two following nights, but the terral now always blew
strongly from the north-northeast after midnight, and thus
limited the hours during which we could navigate, forcing us to
seek the nearest shelter to avoid being driven back faster than
we came.

On the 2nd of October, we reached Point Cajetuba and had a
pleasant day ashore. The river scenery in this neighbourhood is
of the greatest beauty. A few houses of settlers are seen at the
bottom of the broad bay of Aramhna-i at the foot of a range of
richly-timbered hills, the high beach of snow-white sand
stretching in a bold curve from point to point. The opposite
shores of the river are ten or eleven miles distant, but towards
the north is a clear horizon of water and sky. The country near
Point Cajetuba is similar to the neighbourhood of Santarem--
namely, campos with scattered trees. We gathered a large quantity
of wild fruit: Caju, Umiri, and Aapiranga. The Umiri berry
(Humirium floribundum) is a black drupe similar in appearance to
the Damascene plum, and not greatly unlike it in taste. The
Aapiranga is a bright vermilion- berry, with a hard skin
and a sweet viscid pulp enclosing the seeds.

Between the point and Altar do Chao was a long stretch of sandy
beach with moderately deep water; our men, therefore, took a rope
ashore and towed the cuberta at merry speed until we reached the
village. A long, deeply laden canoe with miners from the interior
provinces passed us here. It was manned by ten Indians, who
propelled the boat by poles; the men, five on each side, trotting
one after the other along a plank arranged for the purpose from
stem to stern. It took us two nights to double Point Cururu,
where, as already mentioned, the river bends from its northerly
course beyond Altar do Chao. A confused pile of rocks, on which
many a vessel heavily laden with farinha has been wrecked,
extends at the season of low water from the foot of a high bluff
far into the stream. We were driven back on the first night
(October 3rd) by a squall. The light terral was carrying us
pleasantly round the spit, when a small black cloud which lay
near the rising moon suddenly spread over the sky to the
northward; the land breeze then ceased, and furious blasts began
to blow across the river. We regained, with great difficulty, the
shelter of the point. It blew almost a hurricane for two hours,
during the whole of which time the sky over our heads was
beautifully clear and starlit. Our shelter at first was not very
secure, for the wind blew away the lashings of our sails, and
caused our anchor to drag. Angelo Custodio, however, seized a
rope which was attached to the foremast, and leapt ashore; had he
not done so, we should probably have been driven many miles
backwards up the storm-tossed river. After the cloud had passed,
the regular east wind began to blow, and our further progress was
effectually stopped for the night. The next day we all went
ashore, after securing well the canoe, and slept from eleven
o'clock till five under the shade of trees.

The distance between Point Cururu and Santarem was accomplished
in three days, against the same difficulties of contrary and
furious winds, shoaly water, and rocky coasts. I was thankful at
length to be safely housed, with the whole of my collections,
made under so many privations and perils, landed without the loss
or damage of a specimen. The men, after unloading the canoe and
delivering it to its owner, came to receive their payment. They
took part in goods and part in money, and after a good supper, on
the night of the 7th October, shouldered their bundles and set
off to walk by land some eighty miles to their homes. I was
rather surprised at the good feeling exhibited by these poor
Indians at parting. Angelo Custodio said that whenever I should
wish to make another voyage up the Tapajos, he would be always
ready to serve me as pilot. Alberto was undemonstrative as usual;
but Ricardo, with whom I had had many sharp quarrels, actually
shed tears when he shook hands and bid me the final "adios."


CHAPTER X

THE UPPER AMAZONS--VOYAGE TO EGA

Departure from Barra--First Day and Night on the Upper Amazons--
Desolate Appearance of River in the Flood Season--Cucama Indians-
-Mental Condition of Indians--Squalls--Manatee--Forest--Floating
Pumice Stones from the Andes--Falling Banks--Ega and its
Inhabitants--Daily Life of a Naturalist at Ega--The Four Seasons
of the Upper Amazons

I must now take the reader from the picturesque, hilly country of
the Tapajos, and its dark, streamless waters, to the boundless
wooded plains, and yellow turbid current of the Upper Amazons or
Solimoens. I will resume the narrative of my first voyage up the
river, which was interrupted at the Barra of the Rio <DW64> in the
seventh chapter, to make way for the description of Santarem and
its neighbourhood.

I embarked at Barra on the 26th of March, 1850, three years
before steamers were introduced on the upper river, in a cuberta
which was returning to Ega, the first and only town of any
importance in the vast solitudes of the Solimoens, from Santarem,
whither it had been sent, with a cargo of turtle oil in
earthenware jars. The owner, an old white-haired Portuguese
trader of Ega named Daniel Cardozo, was then at Barra attending
the assizes as juryman, a public duty performed without
remuneration, which took him six weeks away from his business. He
was about to leave Barra himself, in a small boat, and
recommended me to send forward my heavy baggage in the cuberta
and make the journey with him. He would reach Ega, 370 miles
distant from Barra, in twelve or fourteen days; while the large
vessel would be thirty or forty days on the road. I preferred,
however, to go in company with my luggage, looking forward to the
many opportunities I should have of landing and making
collections on the banks of the river.

I shipped the collections made between Para and the Rio <DW64> in
a large cutter which was about descending to the capital, and
after a heavy day's work got all my chests aboard the Ega canoe
by eight o'clock at night. The Indians were then all embarked,
one of them being brought dead drunk by his companions, and laid
to sober himself all night on the wet boards of the tombadilha.
The cabo, a spirited young white, named Estulano Alves Carneiro,
who has since risen to be a distinguished citizen of the new
province of the Upper Amazons, soon after gave orders to get up
the anchor. The men took to the oars, and in a few hours we
crossed the broad mouth of the Rio <DW64>; the night being clear,
calm, and starlit, and the surface of the inky waters smooth as a
lake.

When I awoke the next morning, we were progressing by espia along
the left bank of the Solimoens. The rainy season had now set in
over the region through which the great river flows; the sand-
banks and all the lower lands were already under water, and the
tearing current, two or three miles in breadth, bore along a
continuous line of uprooted trees and islets of floating plants.
The prospect was most melancholy; no sound was heard but the dull
murmur of the waters -- the coast along which we travelled all
day was encumbered every step of the way with fallen trees, some
of which quivered in the currents which set around projecting
points of land. Our old pest, the Motuca, began to torment us as
soon as the sun gained power in the morning. White egrets were
plentiful at the edge of the water, and hummingbirds, in some
places, were whirring about the flowers overhead. The desolate
appearance of the landscape increased after sunset, when the moon
rose in mist.

This upper river, the Alto-Amazonas, or Solimoens, is always
spoken of by the Brazilians as a distinct stream. This is partly
owing, as before remarked, to the direction it seems to take at
the fork of the Rio <DW64>; the inhabitants of the country, from
their partial knowledge, not being able to comprehend the whole
river system in one view. It has, however, many peculiarities to
distinguish it from the lower course of the river. The trade-
wind, or sea-breeze, which reaches, in the height of the dry
season, as far as the mouth of the Rio <DW64>, 900 or 1000 miles
from the Atlantic, never blows on the upper river. The atmosphere
is therefore more stagnant and sultry, and the winds that do
prevail are of irregular direction and short duration. A great
part of the land on the borders of the Lower Amazons is hilly;
there are extensive campos, or open plains, and long stretches of
sandy soil clothed with thinner forests. The climate, in
consequence, is comparatively dry many months in succession
during the fine season passing without rain. All this is changed
on the Solimoens. A fortnight of clear sunny weather is a rarity:
the whole region through which the river and its affluents flow,
after leaving the easternmost ridges of the Andes, which Poppig
describes as rising like a wall from the level country, 240 miles
from the Pacific, is a vast plain, about 1000 miles in length,
and 500 or 600 in breadth, covered with one uniform, lofty,
impervious, and humid forest. The soil is nowhere sandy, but
always either a stiff clay, alluvium, or vegetable mold, which
thelatter, in many places, is seen in water-worn sections of the
river banks to be twenty or thirty feet in depth. With such a
soil and climate, the luxuriance of vegetation, and the abundance
and beauty of animal forms which are already so great in the
region nearer the Atlantic, increase on the upper river. The
fruits, both wild and cultivated, common to the two sections of
the country, reach a progressively larger size in advancing
westward, and some trees, which blossom only once a year at Para
and Santarem, yield flower and fruit all the year round at Ega.
The climate is healthy, although one lives here as in a permanent
vapour bath. I must not, however, give here a lengthy description
of the region while we are yet on its threshold. I resided and
travelled on the Solimoens altogether for four years and a half.
The country on its borders is a magnificent wilderness where
civilised man, as yet, has scarcely obtained a footing; the
cultivated ground from the Rio <DW64> to the Andes amounting only
to a few score acres. Man, indeed, in any condition, from his
small numbers, makes but an insignificant figure in these vast
solitudes. It may be mentioned that the Solimoens is 2130 miles
in length, if we reckon from the source of what is usually
considered the main stream (Lake Lauricocha, near Lima); but 2500
miles by the route of the Ucayali, the most considerable and
practicable fork of the upper part of the river. It is navigable
at all seasons by large steamers for upwards of 1400 miles from
the mouth of the Rio <DW64>.

On the 28th we passed the mouth of Arlauu, a narrow inlet which
communicates with the Rio <DW64>, emerging in front of Barra. Our
vessel was nearly drawn into this by the violent current which
set from the Solimoens. The towing-cable was lashed to a strong
tree about thirty yards ahead, and it took the whole strength of
crew and passengers to pull across. We passed the Guariba, a
second channel connecting the two rivers, on the 30th, and on the
31st sailed past a straggling settlement called Manacapuru,
situated on a high, rocky bank. Many citizens of Barra have
sitios, or country-houses, in this place, although it is eighty
miles distant from the town by the nearest road. Beyond
Manacapuru all traces of high land cease; both shores of the
river, henceforward for many hundred miles, are flat, except in
places where the Tabatinga formation appears in clayey elevations
of from twenty to forty feet above the line of highest water. The
country is so completely destitute of rocky or gravelly beds that
not a pebble is seen during many weeks' journey. Our voyage was
now very monotonous. After leaving the last house at Manacapuru,
we travelled nineteen days without seeing a human habitation, the
few settlers being located on the banks of inlets or lakes some
distance from the shores of the main river. We met only one
vessel during the whole of the time, and this did not come within
hail, as it was drifting down in the middle of the current in a
broad part of the river, two miles from the bank along which we
were laboriously warping our course upwards.

After the first two or three days we fell into a regular way of
life on board. Our crew was composed of ten Indians of the Cucama
nation, whose native country is a portion of the borders of the
upper river in the neighbourhood of Nauta, in Peru. The Cucamas
speak the Tupi language, using, however, a harsher accent than is
common amongst the semi-civilised Indians from Ega downwards.
They are a shrewd, hard-working people, and are the only Indians
who willingly, and in a body, engage themselves to navigate the
canoes of traders. The pilot, a steady and faithful fellow named
Vicente, told me that he and his companions had now been fifteen
months absent from their wives and families, and that on arriving
at Ega they intended to take the first chance of a passage to
Nauta. There was nothing in the appearance of these men to
distinguish them from canoemen in general. Some were tall and
well built, others had squat figures with broad shoulders and
excessively thick arms and legs. No two of them were at all
similar in the shape of the head: Vicente had an oval visage,
with fine regular features, while a little dumpy fellow, the wag
of the party, was quite a Mongolian in breadth and prominence of
cheek, spread of nostrils, and obliquity of eyes; but these two
formed the extremes as to face and figure. None of them were
tattooed or disfigured in any way and they were all quite
destitute of beard.

The Cucamas are notorious on the river for their provident
habits. The desire of acquiring property is so rare a trait in
Indians, that the habits of these people are remarked on with
surprise by the Brazilians. The first possession which they
strive to acquire on descending the river into Brazil, which all
the Peruvian Indians look upon as a richer country than their
own, is a wooden trunk with lock and key; in this they stow away
carefully all their earnings converted into clothing, hatchets,
knives, harpoon heads, needles and thread, and so forth. Their
wages are only fourpence or sixpence a day, which is often paid
in goods charged one hundred per cent above Para prices, so that
it takes them a long time to fill their chest.

It would be difficult to find a better-behaved set of men in a
voyage than these poor Indians. During our thirty-five days'
journey they lived and worked together in the most perfect good
fellowship. I never heard an angry word pass amongst them. Senor
Estulano let them navigate the vessel in their own way, exerting
his authority only now and then when they were inclined to be
lazy. Vicente regulated the working hours. These depended on the
darkness of the nights. In the first and second quarters of the
moon they kept it up with espia, or oars, until almost midnight;
in the third and fourth quarters they were allowed to go to sleep
soon after sunset, and were aroused at three or four o'clock in
the morning to resume their work. On cool, rainy days we all bore
a hand at the espia, trotting with bare feet on the sloppy deck
in Indian file to the tune of some wild boatman's chorus. We had
a favorable wind for only two days out of the thirty-five, by
which we made about forty miles, the rest of our long journey was
accomplished literally by pulling our way from tree to tree. When
we encountered a remanso near the shore, we got along very
pleasantly for a few miles by rowing-- but this was a rare
occurrence. During leisure hours the Indians employed themselves
in sewing. Vicente was a good hand at cutting out shirts and
trousers, and acted as master tailor to the whole party, each of
whom had a thick steel thimble and a stock of needles and thread
of his own. Vicente made for me a set of blue-check cotton shirts
during the passage.

The goodness of these Indians, like that of most others amongst
whom I lived, consisted perhaps more in the absence of active bad
qualities, than in the possession of good ones; in other words,
it was negative rather than positive. Their phlegmatic, apathetic
temperament, coldness of desire and deadness of feeling, want of
curiosity and slowness of intellect, make the Amazonian Indians
very uninteresting companions anywhere. Their imagination is of a
dull, gloomy, quality and they seemed never to be stirred by the
emotions--love, pity, admiration, fear, wonder, joy,
orenthusiasm. These are characteristics of the whole race. The
good fellowship of our Cucamas seemed to arise not from warm
sympathy, but simply from the absence of eager selfishness in
small matters. On the morning when the favourable wind sprung up,
one of the crew, a lad of about seventeen years of age, was
absent ashore at the time of starting, having gone alone in one
of the montarias to gather wild fruit. The sails were spread and
we travelled for several hours at great speed, leaving the poor
fellow to paddle after us against the strong current. Vicente,
who might have waited a few minutes at starting, and the others,
only laughed when the hardship of their companion was alluded to.
He overtook us at night, having worked his way with frightful
labor the whole day without a morsel of food. He grinned when he
came on board, and not a dozen words were said on either side.

Their want of curiosity is extreme. One day we had an unusually
sharp thunder shower. The crew were lying about the deck, and
after each explosion all set up a loud laugh; the wag of the
party exclaiming: "There's my old uncle hunting again!"-- an
expression showing the utter emptiness of mind of the spokesman.
I asked Vicente what he thought was the cause of lightning and
thunder... He said, "Timaa ichoqua,"--I don't know. He had never
given the subject a moment's thought! It was the same with other
things. I asked him who made the sun, the stars, the trees... He
didn't know, and had never heard the subject mentioned amongst
his tribe. The Tupi language, at least as taught by the old
Jesuits, has a word--Tupana--signifying God. Vicente sometimes
used this word, but he showed by his expressions that he did not
attach the idea of a Creator to it. He seemed to think it meant
some deity or visible image which the whites worshipped in the
churches he had seen in the villages. None of the Indian tribes
on the Upper Amazons have an idea of a Supreme Being, and
consequently have no word to express it in their own language.
Vicente thought the river on which we were travelling encircled
the whole earth, and that the land was an island like those seen
in the stream, but larger. Here a gleam of curiosity and
imagination in the Indian mind is revealed: the necessity of a
theory of the earth and water has been felt, and a theory has
been suggested. In all other matters not concerning the common
wants of life, the mind of Vicente was a blank and such I always
found to be the case with the Indian in his natural state. Would
a community of any race of men be otherwise, were they isolated
for centuries in a wilderness like the Amazonian Indians,
associated in small numbers wholly occupied in procuring a mere
subsistence, and without a written language, or a leisured class
to hand down acquired knowledge from generation to generation?One
day a smart squall gave us a good lift onward; it came with a
cold, fine, driving rain, which enveloped the desolate landscape
as with a mist; the forest swayed and roared with the force of
the gale, and flocks of birds were driven about in alarm over the
tree tops. On another occasion a similar squall came from an
unfavourable quarter; it fell upon us quite unawares, when we had
all our sails out to dry, and blew us broadside foremost on the
shore. The vessel was fairly lifted on to the tall bushes which
lined the banks, but we sustained no injury beyond the
entanglement of our rigging in the branches. The days and nights
usually passed in a dead calm, or with light intermittent winds
from up river, and consequently full against us. We landed twice
a day to give ourselves and the Indians a little rest and change,
and to cook our two meals--breakfast and dinner. There was
another passenger besides myself--a cautious, middle-aged
Portuguese, who was going to settle at Ega, where he had a
brother long since established. He was accommodated in the fore-
cabin, or arched covering over the hold. I shared the cabin-
proper with Senores Estulano and Manoel, the latter a young half-
caste, son-in-law to the owner of the vessel, under whose tuition
I made good progress in learning the Tupi language during the
voyage.

Our men took it in turns, two at a time, to go out fishing-- for
which purpose we carried a spare montaria. The master had brought
from Barra as provision, nothing but stale, salt pirarucu--half
rotten fish, in large, thin, rusty slabs--farinha, coffee, and
treacle. In these voyages, passengers are expected to provide for
themselves, as no charge is made except for freight of the heavy
luggage or cargo they take with them. The Portuguese and myself
had brought a few luxuries, such as beans, sugar, biscuits, tea,
and so forth; but we found ourselves almost obliged to share them
with our two companions and the pilot, so that before the voyage
was one-third finished, the small stock of most of these articles
was exhausted. In return, we shared in whatever the men brought.
Sometimes they were quite unsuccessful, for fish is extremely
difficult to procure in the season of high water, on account of
the lower lands lying between the inlets and infinite chain of
pools and lakes being flooded from the main river, thus
increasing tenfold the area over which the finny population has
to range. On most days, however, they brought two or three fine
fish, and once they harpooned a manatee, or Vacca marina. On this
last-mentioned occasion we made quite a holiday; the canoe was
stopped for six or seven hours, and all turned out into the
forest to help skin and cook the animal. The meat was cut into
cubical slabs, and each person skewered a dozen or so of these on
a long stick. Fires were made, and the spits stuck in the ground
and slanted over the flames to roast. A drizzling rain fell all
the time, and the ground around the fires swarmed with stinging
ants, attracted by the entrails and slime which were scattered
about. The meat has somewhat the taste of very coarse pork; but
the fat, which lies in thick layers between the lean parts, is of
a greenish colour, and of a disagreeable, fishy flavour. The
animal was a large one, measuring nearly ten feet in length, and
nine in girth at the broadest part. The manatee is one of the few
objects which excite the dull wonder and curiosity of the
Indians, notwithstanding its commonness. The fact of its suckling
its young at the breast, although an aquatic animal resembling a
fish, seems to strike them as something very strange. The animal,
as it lay on its back, with its broad rounded head and muzzle,
tapering body, and smooth, thick, lead-<DW52> skin reminded me
of those Egyptian tombs which are made of dark, smooth stone, and
shaped to the human figure.

Notwithstanding the hard fare, the confinement of the canoe, the
trying weather--frequent and drenching rains, with gleams of
fiery sunshine--and the woeful desolation of the river scenery, I
enjoyed the voyage on the whole. We were not much troubled by
mosquitoes, and therefore passed the nights very pleasantly,
sleeping on deck wrapped in blankets or old sails. When the rains
drove us below we were less comfortable, as there was only just
room in the small cabin for three of us to lie close together,
and the confined air was stifling. I became inured to the Piums
in the course of the first week; all the exposed parts of my
body, by that time, being so closely covered with black punctures
that the little bloodsuckers could not very easily find an
unoccupied place to operate upon. Poor Miguel, the Portuguese,
suffered horribly from these pests, his ankles and wrists being
so much inflamed that he was confined to his hammock, slung in
the hold, for weeks. At every landing place I had a ramble in the
forest, while the redskins made the fire and cooked the meal. The
result was a large daily addition to my collection of insects,
reptiles, and shells.

Sometimes the neighbourhood of our gipsy-like encampment was a
tract of dry and spacious forest, pleasant to ramble in; but more
frequently it was a rank wilderness, into which it was impossible
to penetrate many yards, on account of uprooted trees, entangled
webs of monstrous woody climbers, thickets of spiny bamboos,
swamps, or obstacles of one kind or other. The drier lands were
sometimes beautified to the highest degree by groves of the
Urucuri palm (Attalea excelsa), which grew by the thousands under
the crowns of the lofty, ordinary forest trees; their smooth
columnar stems being all of nearly equal height (forty or fifty
feet), and their broad, finely-pinnated leaves interlocking above
to form arches and woven canopies of elegant and diversified
shapes. The fruit of this palm ripens on the upper river in
April, and during our voyage I saw immense quantities of it
strewn about under the trees in places where we encamped. It is
similar in size and shape to the date, and has a pleasantly-
flavoured juicy pulp. The Indians would not eat it; I was
surprised at this, as they greedily devoured many other kinds of
palm fruit whose sour and fibrous pulp was much less palatable.
Vicente shook his head when he saw me one day eating a quantity
of the Urucuri plums. I am not sure they were not the cause of a
severe indigestion under which I suffered for many days
afterwards.

In passing slowly along the interminable wooded banks week after
week, I observed that there were three tolerably distinct kinds
of coast and corresponding forest constantly recurring on this
upper river. First, there were the low and most recent alluvial
deposits--a mixture of sand and mud, covered with tall, broad-
leaved grasses, or with the arrow-grass before described, whose
feathery-topped flower-stem rises to a height of fourteen or
fifteen feet. The only large trees which grow in these places are
the Cecropiae. Many of the smaller and newer islands were of this
description. Secondly, there were the moderately high banks,
which are only partially overflowed when the flood season is at
its height; these are wooded with a magnificent, varied forest,
in which a great variety of palms and broad-leaved Marantaceae
form a very large proportion of the vegetation. The general
foliage is of a vivid light-green hue; the water frontage is
sometimes covered with a diversified mass of greenery; but where
the current sets strongly against the friable, earthy banks,
which at low water are twenty-five to thirty feet high, these are
cut away, and expose a section of forest where the trunks of
trees loaded with epiphytes appear in massy colonnades. One might
safely say that three-fourths of the land bordering the Upper
Amazons, for a thousand miles, belong to this second class. The
third description of coast is the higher, undulating, clayey
land, which appears only at long intervals, but extends sometimes
for many miles along the borders of the river. The coast at these
places is sloping, and composed of red or variegated clay. The
forest is of a different character from that of the lower tracts:
it is rounder in outline, more uniform in its general aspect--
palms are much less numerous and of peculiar species--the strange
bulging-stemmed species, Iriartea ventricosa, and the slender,
glossy-leaved Bacaba-i (Oenocarpus minor), being especially
characteristic; and, in short, animal life, which imparts some
cheerfulness to the other parts of the river, is seldom apparent.
This "terra firme," as it is called, and a large portion of the
fertile lower land, seemed well adapted for settlement; some
parts were originally peopled by the aborigines, but these have
long since become extinct or amalgamated with the white
immigrants. I afterwards learned that there were not more than
eighteen or twenty families settled throughout the whole country
from Manacapuru to Quary, a distance of 240 miles; and these, as
before observed, do not live on the banks of the main stream, but
on the shores of inlets and lakes.

The fishermen twice brought me small rounded pieces of very
porous pumice-stone, which they had picked up floating on the
surface of the main current of the river. They were to me objects
of great curiosity as being messengers from the distant volcanoes
of the Andes-- Cotopaxi, Llanganete, or Sangay-- which rear their
peaks amongst the rivulets that feed some of the early
tributaries of the Amazons, such as the Macas, the Pastaza, and
the Napo. The stones must have already travelled a distance of
1200 miles. I afterwards found them rather common; the Brazilians
use them for cleaning rust from their guns, and firmly believe
them to be solidified river foam. A friend once brought me, when
I lived at Santarem, a large piece which had been found in the
middle of the stream below Monte Alegre, about 900 miles further
down the river; having reached this distance, pumice-stones would
be pretty sure of being carried out to sea, and floated thence
with the northwesterly Atlantic current to shores many thousand
miles distant from the volcanoes which ejected them. They are
sometimes stranded on the banks in different parts of the river.
Reflecting on this circumstance since I arrived in England, the
probability of these porous fragments serving as vehicles for the
transportation of seeds of plants, eggs of insects, spawn of
fresh-water fish, and so forth, has suggested itself to me. Their
rounded, water-worn appearance showed that they must have been
rolled about for a long time in the shallow streams near the
sources of the rivers at the feet of the volcanoes, before they
leapt the waterfalls and embarked on the currents which lead
direct for the Amazons. They may have been originally cast on the
land and afterwards carried to the rivers by freshets; in which
case the eggs and seeds of land insects and plants might be
accidentally introduced and safely enclosed with particles of
earth in their cavities. As the speed of the current in the rainy
season has been observed to be from three to five miles an hour,
they might travel an immense distance before the eggs or seeds
were destroyed. I am ashamed to say that I neglected the
opportunity, while on the spot, of ascertaining whether this was
actually the case. The attention of Naturalists has only lately
been turned to the important subject of occasional means of wide
dissemination of species of animals and plants. Unless such be
shown to exist, it is impossible to solve some of the most
difficult problems connected with the distribution of plants and
animals. Some species, with most limited powers of locomotion,
are found in opposite parts of the earth, without existing in the
intermediate regions; unless it can be shown that these may have
migrated or been accidentally transported from one point to the
other, we shall have to come to the strange conclusion that the
same species had been created in two separate districts.

Canoemen on the Upper Amazons live in constant dread of the
"terras cahidas," or landslips, which occasionally take place
along the steep earthy banks, especially when the waters are
rising. Large vessels are sometimes overwhelmed by these
avalanches of earth and trees. I should have thought the accounts
of them exaggerated if I had not had an opportunity during this
voyage of seeing one on a large scale. One morning I was awakened
before sunrise by an unusual sound resembling the roar of
artillery. I was lying alone on the top of the cabin; it was very
dark, and all my companions were asleep, so I lay listening. The
sounds came from a considerable distance, and the crash which had
aroused me was succeeded by others much less formidable. The
first explanation which occurred to me was that it was an
earthquake; for, although the night was breathlessly calm, the
broad river was much agitated and the vessel rolled heavily. Soon
after, another loud explosion took place, apparently much nearer
than the former one; then followed others. The thundering peal
rolled backwards and forwards, now seeming close at hand, now far
off--the sudden crashes being often succeeded by a pause or a
long,continued dull rumbling. At the second explosion, Vicente,
who lay snoring by the helm, awoke and told me it was a "terra
cahida"; but I could scarcely believe him. The day dawned after
the uproar had lasted about an hour, and we then saw the work of
destruction going forward on the other side of the river, about
three miles off. Large masses of forest, including trees of
colossal size, probably 200 feet in height, were rocking to and
fro, and falling headlong one after the other into the water.
After each avalanche the wave which it caused returned on the
crumbly bank with tremendous force, and caused the fall of other
masses by undermining them. The line of coast over which the
landslip extended, was a mile or two in length; the end of it,
however, was hidden from our view by an intervening island. It
was a grand sight; each downfall created a cloud of spray; the
concussion in one place causing other masses to give way a long
distance from it, and thus the crashes continued, swaying to and
fro, with little prospect of a termination. When we glided out of
sight, two hours after sunrise, the destruction was still going
on.

On the 22nd we threaded the Parana-mirim of Arauana-i, one of the
numerous narrow bywaters which lie conveniently for canoes away
from the main river, and often save a considerable circuit around
a promontory or island. We rowed for half a mile through a
magnificent bed of Victoria waterlilies, the flower-buds of which
were just beginning to expand. Beyond the mouth of the Catua, a
channel leading to one of the great lakes so numerous in the
plains of the Amazons, which we passed on the 25th, the river
appeared greatly increased in breadth. We travelled for three
days along a broad reach which both up and down river presented a
blank horizon of water and sky-- this clear view was owing to the
absence of islands, but it renewed one's impressions of the
magnitude of the stream, which here, 1200 miles from its mouth,
showed so little diminution of width. Further westward, a series
of large islands commences, which divides the river into two and
sometimes three channels, each about a mile in breadth. We kept
to the southernmost of these, travelling all day on the 30th of
April along a high and rather sloping bank.

In the evening we arrived at a narrow opening, which would be
taken by a stranger navigating the main channel for the cutlet of
some insignificant stream-- it was the mouth of the Teffe, on
whose banks Ega is situated, the termination of our voyage. After
having struggled for thirty-five days with the muddy currents and
insect pests of the Solimoens, it was unspeakably refreshing to
find oneself again in a dark-water river, smooth as a lake, and
free from Pium and Motuca. The rounded outline, small foliage,
and sombre-green of the woods, which seemed to rest on the glassy
waters, made a pleasant contrast to the tumultuous piles of rank,
glaring, light-green vegetation, and torn, timber-strewn banks to
which we had been so long accustomed on the main river. The men
rowed lazily until nightfall, when, having done a laborious day's
work, they discontinued and went to sleep, intending to make for
Ega in the morning. It was not thought worthwhile to secure the
vessel to the trees or cast anchor, as there was no current. I
sat up for two or three hours after my companions had gone to
rest, enjoying the solemn calm of the night. Not a breath of air
stirred; the sky was of a deep blue, and the stars seemed to
stand forth in sharp relief; there was no sound of life in the
woods, except the occasional melancholy note of some nocturnal
bird. I reflected on my own wandering life; I had now reached the
end of the third stage of my journey, and was now more than half
way across the continent. It was necessary for me, on many
accounts, to find a rich locality for Natural History
explorations, and settle myself in it for some months or years.
Would the neighbourhood of Ega turn out to be suitable, and
should I, a solitary stranger on a strange errand, find a welcome
amongst its people?

Our Indians resumed their oars at sunrise the next morning (May
1st), and after an hour's rowing along the narrow channel, which
varies in breadth from 100 to 500 yards, we doubled a low wooded
point, and emerged suddenly on the so-called Lake of Ega-- a
magnificent sheet of water, five miles broad, the expanded
portion of the Teffe. It is quite clear of islands, and curves
away to the west and south, so that its full extent is not
visible from this side. To the left, on a gentle grassy <DW72> at
the point of junction of a broad tributary with the Teffe, lay
the little settlement-- a cluster of a hundred or so of palm-
thatched cottages and white-washed red-tiled houses, each with
its neatly-enclosed orchard of orange, lemon, banana, and guava
trees. Groups of palms, with their tall slender shafts and
feathery crowns, overtopped the buildings and lower trees. A
broad grass-carpeted street led from the narrow strip of white
sandy beach to the rudely-built barn-like church, with its wooden
crucifix on the green before it, in the centre of the town.
Cattle were grazing before the houses, and a number of dark-
skinned natives were taking their morning bath amongst the canoes
of various sizes, which were anchored or moored to stakes in the
port. We let off rockets and fired salutes, according to custom,
in token of our safe arrival, and shortly afterwards went ashore.

A few days' experience of the people and the forests of the
vicinity showed me that I might lay myself out for a long,
pleasant, and busy residence at this place. An idea of the kind
of people I had fallen amongst may be conveyed by an account of
my earliest acquaintances in the place. On landing, the owner of
the canoe killed an ox in honour of our arrival, and the next day
took me round the town to introduce me to the principal
residents. We first went to the Delegado of police, Senor Antonio
Cardozo, of whom I shall have to make frequent mention by-and-by.
He was a stout, broad-featured man, ranking as a white, but
having a tinge of <DW64> blood, his complexion, however, was
ruddy, and scarcely betrayed the mixture. He received us in a
very cordial, winning manner; I had afterwards occasion to be
astonished at the boundless good nature of this excellent fellow,
whose greatest pleasure seemed to be to make sacrifices for his
friends. He was a Paraense, and came to Ega originally as a
trader; but, not succeeding in this, he turned planter on a small
scale and collector of the natural commodities of the country,
employing half-a-dozen Indians in the business.

We then visited the military commandant, an officer in the
Brazilian army, named Praia. He was breakfasting with the Vicar,
and we found the two in dishabille (morning-gown, loose round the
neck, and slippers), seated at a rude wooden table in an open
mud-floored verandah, at the back of the house. Commander Praia
was a little curly-headed man (also somewhat of a mulatto),
always merry and fond of practical jokes. His wife, Donna Anna, a
dressy dame from Santarem, was the leader of fashion in the
settlement. The Vicar, Father Luiz Gonsalvo Gomez, was a nearly
pureblood Indian, a native of one of the neighbouring villages,
but educated at Maranham, a city on the Atlantic seaboard. I
afterwards saw a good deal of him, as he was an agreeable,
sociable fellow, fond of reading and hearing about foreign
countries, and quite free from the prejudices which might be
expected in a man of his profession. I found him, moreover, a
thoroughly upright, sincere, and virtuous man. He supported his
aged mother and unmarried sisters in a very creditable way out of
his small salary and emoluments. It is a pleasure to be able to
speak in these terms of a Brazilian priest, for the opportunity
occurs rarely enough.

Leaving these agreeable new acquaintances to finish their
breakfast, we next called on the Director of the Indians of the
Japura, Senor Jose Chrysostomo Monteiro, a thin wiry Mameluco,
the most enterprising person in the settlement. Each of the
neighbouring rivers with its numerous wild tribes is under the
control of a Director, who is nominated by the Imperial
Government. There are now no missions in the regions of the Upper
Amazons; the "gentios" (heathens, or unbaptised Indians) being
considered under the management and protection of these despots,
who, like the captains of Trabalhadores, before mentioned, use
the natives for their own private ends. Senor Chrysostomo had, at
this time, 200 of the Japura Indians in his employ. He was half
Indian himself, but was a far worse master to the redskins than
the whites usually are.

We finished our rounds by paying our respects to a venerable
native merchant, Senor Romao de Oliveira, a tall, corpulent,
fine-looking old man, who received us with a naive courtesy quite
original in its way. He had been an industrious, enterprising man
in his younger days, and had built a substantial range of houses
and warehouses. The shrewd and able old gentleman knew nothing of
the world beyond the wilderness of the Solimoens and its few
thousands of isolated inhabitants, yet he could converse well and
sensibly, making observations on men and things as sagaciously as
though he had drawn them from long experience of life in a
European capital. The semi-civilised Indians respected old Romao,
and he had, consequently, a great number in his employ in
different parts of the river-- his vessels were always filled
quicker with produce than those of his neighbours. On our
leaving, he placed his house and store at my disposal. This was
not a piece of empty politeness, for some time afterwards, when I
wished to settle for the goods I had had of him, he refused to
take any payment.

I made Ega my headquarters during the whole of the time I
remained on the Upper Amazons (four years and a half). My
excursions into the neighbouring region extended sometimes as far
as 300 and 400 miles from the place. An account of these
excursions will be given in subsequent chapters; in the intervals
between them I led a quiet, uneventful life in the settlement,
following my pursuit in the same peaceful, regular way as a
Naturalist might do in a European village. For many weeks in
succession my journal records little more than the notes made on
my daily captures. I had a dry and specious cottage, the
principal room of which was made a workshop and study; here a
large table was placed, and my little library of reference
arranged on shelves in rough wooden boxes. Cages for drying
specimens were suspended from the rafters by cords well anointed,
to prevent ants from descending, with a bitter vegetable oil;
rats and mice were kept from them by inverted cuyas, placed half
way down the cords. I always kept on hand a large portion of my
private collection, which contained a pair of each species and
variety, for the sake of comparing the old with the new
acquisitions. My cottage was whitewashed inside and out about
once a year by the proprietor, a native trader; the floor was of
earth; the ventilation was perfect, for the outside air, and
sometimes the rain as well, entered freely through gaps at the
top of the walls under the eaves and through wide crevices in the
doorways. Rude as the dwelling was, I look back with pleasure on
the many happy months I spent in it. I rose generally with the
sun, when the grassy streets were wet with dew, and walked down
to the river to bathe; five or six hours of every morning were
spent in collecting in the forest, whose borders lay only five
minutes' walk from my house; the hot hours of the afternoon,
between three and six o'clock, and the rainy days, were occupied
in preparing and ticketing the specimens, making notes,
dissecting, and drawing. I frequently had short rambles by water
in a small montaria, with an Indian lad to paddle. The
neighbourhood yielded me, up to the last day of my residence, an
uninterrupted succession of new and curious forms in the
different classes of the animal kingdom, and especially insects.

I lived, as may already have been seen, on the best of terms with
the inhabitants of Ega. Refined society, of course, there was
none; but the score or so of decent quiet families which
constituted the upper class of the place were very sociable;
their manners offered a curious mixture of naive rusticity and
formal politeness; the great desire to be thought civilised leads
the most ignorant of these people (and they are all very
ignorant, although of quick intelligence) to be civil and kind to
strangers from Europe. I was never troubled with that impertinent
curiosity on the part of the people in these interior places
which some travellers complain of in other countries. The Indians
and lower half-castes--at least such of them who gave any thought
to the subject--seemed to think it natural that strangers should
collect and send abroad the beautiful birds and insects of their
country. The butterflies they universally concluded to be wanted
as patterns for bright- calico-prints. As to the better
sort of people, I had no difficulty in making them understand
that each European capital had a public museum, in which were
sought to be stored specimens of all natural productions in the
mineral, animal, and vegetable kingdoms. They could not
comprehend how a man could study science for its own sake; but I
told them I was collecting for the "Museo de Londres," and was
paid for it; that was very intelligible. One day, soon after my
arrival, when I was explaining these things to a listening circle
seated on benches in the grassy street, one of the audience, a
considerable tradesman, a Mameluco native of Ega, got suddenly
quite enthusiastic, and exclaimed, "How rich are these great
nations of Europe!  We half-civilised creatures know nothing. Let
us treat this stranger well, that he may stay amongst us and
teach our children." We very frequently had social parties, with
dancing and so forth; of these relaxations I shall have more to
say presently. The manners of the Indian population also gave me
some amusement for a long time. During the latter part of my
residence, three wandering Frenchmen, and two Italians, some of
them men of good education, on their road one after the other
from the Andes down the Amazons, became enamoured of this
delightfully situated and tranquil spot, and made up their minds
to settle here for the remainder of their lives. Three of them
ended by marrying native women. I found the society of these
friends a very agreeable change.

There were, of course, many drawbacks to the amenities of the
place as a residence for a European; but these were not of a
nature that my readers would perhaps imagine. There was scarcely
any danger from wild animals-- it seems almost ridiculous to
refute the idea of danger from the natives in a country where
even incivility to an unoffending stranger is a rarity. A jaguar,
however, paid us a visit one night. It was considered an
extraordinary event, and so much uproar was made by the men who
turned out with guns and bows and arrows, that the animal
scampered off and was heard of no more. Alligators were rather
troublesome in the dry season. During these months there was
almost always one or two lying in wait near the bathing place for
anything that might turn up at the edge of the water-- dog,
sheep, pig, child, or drunken Indian. When this visitor was about
every one took extra care whilst bathing. I used to imitate the
natives in not advancing far from the bank, and in keeping my eye
fixed on that of the monster, which stares with a disgusting leer
along the surface of the water; the body being submerged to the
level of the eyes, and the top of the head, with part of the
dorsal crest the only portions visible. When a little motion was
perceived in the water behind the reptile's tail, bathers were
obliged to beat a quick retreat. I was never threatened myself,
but I often saw the crowds of women and children scared while
bathing by the beast making a movement towards them -- a general
scamper to the shore and peals of laughter were always the result
in these cases. The men can always destroy these alligators when
they like to take the trouble to set out with montarias and
harpoons for the purpose; but they never do it unless one of the
monsters, bolder than usual, puts some one's life in danger. This
arouses them, and they then track the enemy with the greatest
pertinacity; when half-killed, they drag it ashore and dispatch
it amid loud execrations. Another, however, is sure to appear
some days or weeks afterwards and take the vacant place on the
station. Besides alligators, the only animals to be feared are
the poisonous serpents. These are certainly common enough in the
forest, but no fatal accident happened during the whole time of
my residence.

I suffered most inconvenience from the difficulty of getting news
from the civilised world down river, from the irregularity of
receipt of letters, parcels of books and periodicals, and towards
the latter part of my residence from ill health arising from bad
and insufficient food. The want of intellectual society, and of
the varied excitement of European life, was also felt most
acutely, and this, instead of becoming deadened by time,
increased until it became almost insupportable. I was obliged, at
last, to come to the conclusion that the contemplation of Nature
alone is not sufficient to fill the human heart and mind. I got
on pretty well when I received a parcel from England by the
steamer, once in two or four months. I used to be very economical
with my stock of reading lest it should be finished before the
next arrival, and leave me utterly destitute. I went over the
periodicals, the Athenaeum, for instance, with great
deliberation, going through every number three times; the first
time devouring the more interesting articles; the second, the
whole of the remainder; and the third, reading all the
advertisements from beginning to end. If four months (two
steamers) passed without a fresh parcel, I felt discouraged in
the extreme. I was worst off in the first year, 1850, when twelve
months elapsed without letters or remittances. Towards the end of
this time my clothes had worn to rags; I was barefoot, a great
inconvenience in tropical forests, notwithstanding statements to
the contrary that have been published by travellers; my servant
ran away, and I was robbed of nearly all my copper money. I was
obliged then to descend to Para, but returned, after finishing
the examination of the middle part of the Lower Amazons and the
Tapajos, in 1855, with my Santarem assistant and better provided
for making collections on the upper river. This second visit was
in pursuit of the plan before mentioned, of exploring in detail
the whole valley of the Amazons, which I formed in Para in the
year 1851.

During so long a residence I witnessed, of course, many changes
in the place. Some of the good friends who made me welcome on my
first arrival, died, and I followed their remains to their last
resting-place in the little rustic cemetery on the borders of the
surrounding forest. I lived there long enough, from first to
last, to see the young people grow up, attended their weddings,
and the christenings of their children, and, before I left, saw
them old married folks with numerous families. In 1850 Ega was
only a village, dependent on Para 1400 miles distant, as the
capital of the then undivided province. In 1852, with the
creation of the new province of the Amazons, it became a city;
returned its members to the provincial parliament at Barra; had
it assizes, its resident judges, and rose to be the chief town of
the comarca or county. A year after this, namely, in 1853,
steamers were introduced on the Solimoens; and from 1855, one ran
regularly every two months between the Rio <DW64> and Nauta in
Peru, touching at all the villages, and accomplishing the
distance in ascending, about 1200 miles, in eighteen days. The
trade and population, however, did not increase with these
changes. The people became more "civilised," that is, they began
to dress according to the latest Parisian fashions, instead of
going about in stockingless feet, wooden clogs, and shirt
sleeves, acquired a taste for money-getting and office-holding;
became divided into parties, and lost part of their former
simplicity of manners. But the place remained, when I left it in
1859, pretty nearly what it was when I first arrived in 1850--a
semi-Indian village, with much in the ways and notions of its
people more like those of a small country town in Northern Europe
than a South American settlement. The place is healthy, and
almost free from insect pests-- perpetual verdure surrounds it;
the soil is of marvellous fertility, even for Brazil; the endless
rivers and labyrinths of channels teem with fish and turtle, a
fleet of steamers might anchor at any season of the year in the
lake, which has uninterrupted water communication straight to the
Atlantic. What a future is in store for the sleepy little
tropical village!

After speaking of Ega as a city, it will have a ludicrous effect
to mention that the total number of its inhabitants is only about
1200. It contains just 107 houses, about half of which are
miserably built mud-walled cottages, thatched with palm leaves. A
fourth of the population are almost always absent, trading or
collecting produce on the rivers. The neighbourhood within a
radius of thirty miles, and including two other small villages,
contains probably 2000 more people. The settlement is one of the
oldest in the country, having beenfounded in 1688 by Father
Samuel Fritz, a Bohemian Jesuit, who induced several of the
docile tribes of Indians, then scattered over the neighbouring
region, to settle on the site. From 100 to 200 acres of sloping
ground around the place were afterwards cleared of timber; but
such is the encroaching vigour of vegetation in this country that
the site would quickly relapse into jungle if the inhabitants
neglected to pull up the young shoots as they arose. There is a
stringent municipal law which compels each resident to weed a
given space around his dwelling. Every month, whilst I resided
here, an inspector came round with his wand of authority, and
fined every one who had not complied with the regulation. The
Indians of the surrounding country have never been hostile to the
European settlers. The rebels of Para and the Lower Amazons, in
1835-6, did not succeed in rousing the natives of the Solimoens
against the whites. A party of forty of them ascended the river
for that purpose, but on arriving at Ega, instead of meeting with
sympathisers as in other places, they were surrounded by a small
body of armed residents, and shot down without mercy. The
military commandant at the time, who was the prime mover in this
orderly resistance to anarchy, was a courageous and loyal <DW64>,
named Jose Patricio, an officer known throughout the Upper
Amazons for his unflinching honesty and love of order, whose
acquaintance I had the pleasure of making at St. Paulo in 1858.
Ega was the headquarters of the great scientific commission,
which met in the years from 1781 to 1791 to settle the boundaries
between the Spanish and Portuguese territories in South America.
The chief commissioner for Spain, Don Francisco Requena, lived
some time in the village with his family. I found only one person
at Ega, my old friend Romao de Oliveira, who recollected, or had
any knowledge of this important time, when a numerous staff of
astronomers, surveyors, and draughtsmen, explored much of the
surrounding country with large bodies of soldiers and natives.

More than half the inhabitants of Ega are Mamelucos; there are
not more than forty or fifty pure whites; the number of <DW64>s
and mulattos is probably a little less, and the rest of the
population consists of pure blood Indians. Every householder,
including Indians and free <DW64>s, is entitled to a vote in the
elections, municipal, provincial, and imperial, and is liable to
be called on juries, and to serve in the national guard. These
privileges and duties of citizenship do not seem at present to be
appreciated by the more ignorant <DW52> people. There is,
however, a gradual improvement taking place in this respect.
Before I left there was a rather sharp contest for the Presidency
of the Municipal Chamber, and most of the voters took a lively
interest in it. There was also an election of members to
represent the province in the Imperial Parliament at Rio Janeiro,
in which each party strove hard to return its candidate. On this
occasion, an unscrupulous lawyer was sent by the government party
from the capital to overawe the opposition to its nominee; many
of the half-castes, headed by my old friend John da Cunha, who
was then settled at Ega, fought hard, but with perfect legality
and good humour, against this powerful interest. They did not
succeed -- and although the government agent committed many
tyrannical and illegal acts, the losing party submitted quietly
to their defeat. In a larger town, I believe, the government
would not have dared to attempt thus to control the elections. I
think I saw enough to warrant the conclusion that the machinery
of constitutional government would, with a little longer trial,
work well amongst the mixed Indian, white, and <DW64> population,
even in this remote part of the Brazilian empire. I attended
also, before I left, several assize meetings at Ega, and
witnessed the novel sight of <DW64>, white, half-caste, and
Indian, sitting gravely side by side on the jury bench.

The way in which the <DW52> races act under the conditions of
free citizenship is a very interesting subject. Brazilian
statesmen seem to have abandoned the idea, if they ever
entertained it, of making this tropical empire a nation of whites
with a slave labouring class. The greatest difficulty on the
Amazons is with the Indians. The general inflexibility of
character of the race, and their abhorrence of the restraints of
civilised life, make them very intractable subjects. Some of
them, however, who have learned to read and write, and whose
dislike to live in towns has been overcome by some cause acting
early in life, make very good citizens. I have already mentioned
the priest, who is a good example of what early training can do.
There can be no doubt that if the docile Amazonian Indians were
kindly treated by their white fellow-citizens, and educated, they
would not be so quick as they have hitherto shown themselves to
be to leave the towns and return into their half wild condition
on the advancing civilisation of the places. The inflexibility of
character, although probably organic, is seen to be sometimes
overcome.

The principal blacksmith of Ega, Senor Macedo, was also an
Indian, and a very sensible fellow. He sometimes filled minor
offices in the government of the place. He used to come very
frequently to my house to chat, and was always striving to
acquire solid information about things. When Donati's comet
appeared, he took a great interest in it. We saw it at its best
from the 3rd to the 10th of October (1858), between which dates
it was visible near the western horizon just after sunset, the
tail extending in a broad curve towards the north, and forming a
sublime object. Macedo consulted all the old almanacs in the
place to ascertain whether it was the same comet as that of 1811,
which he said he well remembered.

Before the Indians can be reclaimed in large numbers, it is most
likely they will become extinct as a race; but there is less
difficulty with regard to the Mamelucos, who, even when the
proportion of white blood is small, sometimes become enterprising
and versatile people.Many of the Ega Indians, including all the
domestic servants, are savages who have been brought from the
neighbouring rivers-- the Japura, the Issa, and the Solimoens. I
saw here individuals of at least sixteen different tribes, most
of whom had been bought, when children, of the native chiefs.
This species of slave-dealing, although forbidden by the laws of
Brazil, is winked at by the authorities, because without it,
there would be no means of obtaining servants. They all become
their own masters when they grow up, and never show the slightest
inclination to return to utter savage life. But the boys
generally run away and embark on the canoes of traders; and the
girls are often badly treated by their mistresses-- the jealous,
passionate, and ill-educated Brazilian women. Nearly all the
enmities which arise amongst residents at Ega and other place,
are caused by disputes about Indian servants. No one who has
lived only in old settled countries, where service can be readily
bought, can imagine the difficulties and annoyances of a land
where the servant class are ignorant of the value of money, and
hands cannot be obtained except by coaxing them from the employ
of other masters.

Great mortality takes place amongst the poor captive children on
their arrival at Ega. It is a singular circumstance that the
Indians residing on the Japura and other tributaries always fall
ill on descending to the Solimoens, while the reverse takes place
with the inhabitants of the banks of the main river, who never
fail of taking intermittent fever when they first ascend these
branch rivers, and of getting well when they return. The finest
tribes of savages who inhabit the country near Ega are the Juris
and Passes-- these are now, however, nearly extinct, a few
families only remaining on the banks of the retired creeks
connected with the Teffe, and on other branch rivers between the
Teffe and the Jutahi. They are a peaceable, gentle, and
industrious people, devoted to agriculture and fishing, and have
always been friendly to the whites. I shall have occasion to
speak again of the Passes, who are a slenderly-built and superior
race of Indians, distinguished by a large, square tattooed patch
in the middle of their faces. The principal cause of their decay
in numbers seems to be a disease which always appears amongst
them when a village is visited by people from the civilised
settlements--a slow fever, accompanied by the symptoms of a
common cold, "defluxo," as the Brazilians term it, ending
probably in consumption. The disorder has been known to break out
when the visitors were entirely free from it-- the simple contact
of civilised men, in some mysterious way, being sufficient to
create it. It is generally fatal to the Juris and Passes; the
first question the poor, patient Indians now put to an advancing
canoe is, "Do you bring defluxo?"

My assistant, Jose, in the last year of our residence at Ega,
"resgatou" (ransomed, the euphemism in use for purchased) two
Indian children, a boy and a girl, through a Japura trader. The
boy was about twelve years of age, and of an unusually dark
colour of skin-- he had, in fact, the tint of a Cafuzo, the
offspring of Indian and <DW64>. It was thought he had belonged to
some perfectly wild and houseless tribe, similar to the
Pararauates of the Tapajos, of which there are several in
different parts of the interior of South America. His face was of
regular, oval shape, but his glistening black eyes had a wary,
distrustful expression, like that of a wild animal; his hands and
feet were small and delicately formed. Soon after his arrival,
finding that none of the Indian boys and girls in the houses of
our neighbours understood his language, he became sulky and
reserved; not a word could be got from him until many weeks
afterwards, when he suddenly broke out with complete phrases of
Portuguese. He was ill of swollen liver and spleen, the result of
intermittent fever, for a long time after coming into our hands.
We found it difficult to cure him, owing to his almost invincible
habit of eating earth, baked clay, pitch, wax, and other similar
substances. Very many children on the upper parts of the Amazons
have this strange habit; not only Indians, but <DW64>s and
whites. It is not, therefore, peculiar to the famous Otomacs of
the Orinoco, described by Humboldt,or to Indians at all, and
seems to originate in a morbid craving, the result of a meagre
diet of fish, wild-fruits, and mandioca-meal. We gave our little
savage the name of Sebastian.

The use of these Indian children is to fill water-jars from the
river, gather firewood in the forest, cook, assist in paddling
the montaria in excursions, and so forth. Sebastian was often my
companion in the woods, where he was very useful in finding the
small birds I shot, which sometimes fell in the thickets amongst
confused masses of fallen branches and dead leaves. He was
wonderfully expert at catching lizards with his hands, and at
climbing. The smoothest stems of palm trees offered little
difficulty to him; he would gather a few lengths of tough,
flexible lianas, tie them in a short, endless band to support his
feet with, in embracing the slippery shaft, and then mount
upwards by a succession of slight jerks. It was very amusing,
during the first few weeks, to witness the glee and pride with
which he would bring to me the bunches of fruit he had gathered
from almost inaccessible trees. He avoided the company of boys of
his own race, and was evidently proud of being the servant of a
real white man. We brought him down with us to Para, but he
showed no emotion at any of the strange sights of the capital--
the steam-vessels, large ships and houses, horses and carriages,
the pomp of church ceremonies, and so forth. In this he exhibited
the usual dullness of feeling and poverty of thought of the
Indian; he had, nevertheless, very keen perceptions, and was
quick at learning any mechanical art. Jose, who had resumed, some
time before I left the country, his old trade of goldsmith, made
him his apprentice, and he made very rapid progress; for after
about three months' teaching he came to me one day with radiant
countenance and showed me a gold ring of his own making.

The fate of the little girl, who came with a second batch of
children all ill of intermittent fever, a month or two after
Sebastian, was very different. She was brought to our house,
after landing, one night in the wet season, when the rain was
pouring in torrents, thin and haggard, drenched with wet and
shivering with ague. An old Indian who brought her to the door
said briefly, "ecui encommenda" (here's your little parcel, or
order), and went away. There was very little of the savage in her
appearance, and she was of a much lighter colour than the boy. We
found she was of the Miranha tribe, all of whom are distinguished
by a slit, cut in the middle of each wing of the nose, in which
they wear on holiday occasions a large button made of pearly
river-shell. We took the greatest care of our little patient; had
the best nurses in the town, fomented her daily, gave her quinine
and the most nourishing food; but it was all of no avail, she
sank rapidly; her liver was enormously swollen, and almost as
hard to the touch as stone. There was something uncommonly
pleasing in her ways, and quite unlike anything I had yet seen in
Indians. Instead of being dull and taciturn, she was always
smiling and full of talk. We had an old woman of the same tribe
to attend her, who explained what she said to us. She often
begged to be taken to the river to bathe; asked for fruit, or
coveted articles she saw in the room for playthings. Her native
name was Oria. The last week or two she could not rise from the
bed we had made for her in a dry corner of the room; when she
wanted lifting, which, was very often, she would allow no one to
help her but me, calling me by the name of "Cariwa " (white man),
the only word of Tupi she seemed to know. It was inexpressibly
touching to hear her, as she lay, repeating by the hour the
verses which she had been taught to recite with her companions in
her native village: a few sentences repeated over and over again
with a rhythmic accent, and relating to objects and incidents
connected with the wild life of her tribe. We had her baptised
before she died, and when this latter event happened, in
opposition to the wishes of the big people of Ega, I insisted on
burying her with the same honours as a child of the whites; that
is, as an "anjinho" (little angel), according to the pretty Roman
Catholic custom of the country. We had the corpse clothed in a
robe of fine calico, crossed her hands on her breast over a
"palma" of flowers, and made also a crown of flowers for her
head. Scores of helpless children like our poor Oria die at Ega,
or on the road; but generally not the slightest care is taken of
them during their illness. They are the captives made during the
merciless raids of one section of the Miranha tribe on the
territories of another, and sold to the Ega traders. The villages
of the attacked hordes are surprised, and the men and women
killed or driven into the thickets without having time to save
their children. There appears to be no doubt that the Miranhas
are cannibals, and, therefore, the purchase of these captives
probably saves them from a worse fate. The demand for them at Ega
operates, however, as a direct cause of the supply, stimulating
the unscrupulous chiefs, who receive all the profits, to
undertake these murderous expeditions.

It is remarkable how quickly the savages of the various nations,
which each have their own, to all appearance, widely different
language, learn Tupi on their arrival at Ega, where it is the
common idiom. This perhaps may be attributed chiefly to the
grammatical forms of all the Indian tongues being the same,
although the words are different. As far as I could learn, the
feature is common to all, of placing the preposition after the
noun, making it, in fact, a post-position, thus: "He is come the
village from;" "Go him with, the plantation to," and so forth.
The ideas to be expressed in their limited sphere of life and
thought are few; consequently the stock of words is extremely
small; besides, all Indians have the same way of thinking, and
the same objects to talk about; these circumstances also
contribute to the case with which they learn each other's
language. Hordes of the same tribe living on the same branch
rivers, speak mutually unintelligible languages; this happens
with the Miranhas on the Japura, and with the Collinas on the
Jurua; whilst Tupi is spoken with little corruption along the
banks of the main Amazons for a distance Of 2500 miles. The
purity of Tupi is kept up by frequent communication amongst the
natives, from one end to the other of the main river; how
complete and long-continued must be the isolation in which the
small groups of savages have lived in other parts, to have caused
so complete a segregation of dialects! It is probable that the
strange inflexibility of the Indian organisation, both bodily and
mental, is owing to the isolation in which each small tribe has
lived, and to the narrow round of life and thought, and close
intermarriages for countless generations which are the necessary
results. Their fecundity is of a low degree, for it is very rare
to find an Indian family having so many as four children, and we
have seen how great is their liability to sickness and death on
removal from place to place.

I have already remarked on the different way in which the climate
of this equatorial region affects Indians and <DW64>s. No one
could live long amongst the Indians of the Upper Amazons without
being struck with their constitutional dislike to the heat.
Europeans certainly withstand the high temperature better than
the original inhabitants of the country; I always found I could
myself bear exposure to the sun or unusually hot weather quite as
well as the Indians, although not well-fitted by nature for a hot
climate. Their skin is always hot to the touch, and they perspire
little. No Indian resident of Ega can be induced to stay in the
village (where the heat is felt more than in the forest or on the
river), for many days together. They bathe many times a day, but
do not plunge in the water, taking merely a sitz-bath, as dogs
may be seen doing in hot climates, to cool the lower parts of the
body. The women and children, who often remain at home, while the
men are out for many days together fishing, generally find some
excuse for trooping off to the shades of the forest in the hot
hours of the afternoons. They are restless and discontented in
fine dry weather, but cheerful in cool days, when the rain is
pouring down on their naked backs. When suffering under fever,
nothing but strict watching can prevent them from going down to
bathe in the river, or eating immoderate quantities of juicy
fruits, although these indulgences are frequently the cause of
death. They are very subject to disorders of the liver,
dysentery, and other diseases of hot climates, and when any
epidemic is about, they fall ill quicker, and suffer more than
<DW64>s or even whites. How different all this is with the <DW64>,
the true child of tropical climes! The impression gradually
forced itself on my mind that the red Indian lives as a stranger,
or immigrant in these hot regions, and that his constitution was
not originally adapted, and has not since become perfectly
adapted, to the climate.

The Indian element is very prominent in the amusements of the Ega
people. All the Roman Catholic holidays are kept up with great
spirit; rude Indian sports being mingled with the ceremonies
introduced by the Portuguese. Besides these, the aborigines
celebrate their own ruder festivals; the people of different
tribes combining-- for, in most of their features, the merry-
makings were originally alike in all the tribes. The Indian idea
of a holiday is bonfires, processions, masquerading, especially
the mimicry of different kinds of animals, plenty of confused
drumming and fifing, monotonous dancing, kept up hour after hour
without intermission, and, the most important point of all,
getting gradually and completely drunk. But he attaches a kind of
superstitious significance to these acts, and thinks that the
amusements appended to the Roman Catholic holidays as celebrated
by the descendants of the Portuguese, are also an essential part
of the religious ceremonies. But in this respect, the uneducated
whites and half-breeds are not a bit more enlightened than the
poor, dull-souled Indian. All look upon a religious holiday as an
amusement, in which the priest takes the part of director or
chief actor.

Almost every unusual event, independent of saints' days, is made
the occasion of a holiday by the sociable, easy-going people of
the white and Mameluco classes-- funerals, christenings,
weddings, the arrival of strangers, and so forth. The custom of
"waking" the dead is also kept up. A few days after I arrived, I
was awoke in the middle of a dark, moist night by Cardozo, to sit
up with a neighbour whose wife had just died. I found the body
laid out on a table, with crucifix and lighted wax-candles at the
head, and the room full of women and girls squatted on stools or
on their haunches. The men were seated round the open door,
smoking, drinking coffee, and telling stories, the bereaved
husband exerting himself much to keep the people merry during the
remainder of the night. The Ega people seem to like an excuse for
turning night into day; it is so cool and pleasant, and they can
sit about during these hours in the open air, clad as usual in
simple shirt and trousers, without streaming with perspiration.

The patron saint is Santa Theresa, the festival at whose
anniversary lasts, like most of the others, ten days. It begins
very quietly with evening litanies sung in the church, which are
attended by the greater part of the population, all clean and
gaily dressed in calicos and muslins; the girls wearing jasmines
and other natural flowers in their hair, no other headdress being
worn by females of any class. The evenings pass pleasantly; the
church is lighted up with wax candles, and illuminated on the
outside by a great number of little oil lamps, rude clay cups, or
halves of the thick rind of the bitter orange, which are fixed
all over the front. The congregation seem very attentive, and the
responses to the litany of Our Lady, sung by a couple of hundred
fresh female voices, ring agreeably through the still village.
Towards the end of the festival the fun commences. The managers
of the feast keep open houses, and dancing, drumming, tinkling of
wire guitars, and unbridled drinking by both sexes, old and
young, are kept up for a couple of days and a night with little
intermission. The ways of the people at these merry-makings, of
which there are many in the course of the year, always struck me
as being not greatly different from those seen at an old-
fashioned village wake in retired parts of England. The old folks
look on and get very talkative over their cups; the children are
allowed a little extra indulgence in sitting up; the dull,
reserved fellows become loquacious, shake one another by the hand
or slap each other on the back, discovering, all at once, what
capital friends they are. The cantankerous individual gets
quarrelsome, and the amorous unusually loving. The Indian,
ordinarily so taciturn, finds the use of his tongue, and gives
the minutest details of some little dispute which he had with his
master years ago, and which everyone else had forgotten-- just as
I have known lumpish labouring men in England do, when half-
fuddled. One cannot help reflecting, when witnessing these traits
of manners, on the similarity of human nature everywhere, when
classes are compared whose state of culture and conditions of
life are pretty nearly the same.

The Indians play a conspicuous part in the amusements at St.
John's eve, and at one or two other holidays which happen about
that time of the year--the end of June. In some of the sports the
Portuguese element is visible, in others the Indian, but it must
be recollected that masquerading, recitative singing, and so
forth, are common originally to both peoples. A large number of
men and boys disguise themselves to represent different grotesque
figures, animals, or persons. Two or three dress themselves up as
giants, with the help of a tall framework. One enacts the part of
the Caypor, a kind of sylvan deity similar to the Curupira which
I have before mentioned. The belief in this being seems to be
common to all the tribes of the Tupi stock. According to the
figure they dressed up at Ega, he is a bulky, misshapen monster,
with red skin and long shaggy red hair hanging half way down his
back. They believe that he has subterranean campos and hunting
grounds in the forest, well stocked with pacas and deer. He is
not at all an object of worship nor of fear, except to children,
being considered merely as a kind of hobgoblin. Most of the
masquers make themselves up as animals--bulls, deer, magoary
storks, jaguars, and so forth, with the aid of light frameworks,
covered with old cloth dyed or painted and shaped according to
the object represented. Some of the imitations which I saw were
capital. One ingenious fellow arranged an old piece of canvas in
the form of a tapir, placed himself under it, and crawled about
on all fours. He constructed an elastic nose to resemble that of
the tapir, and made, before the doors of the principal residents,
such a good imitation of the beast grazing, that peals of
laughter greeted him wherever he went. Another man walked about
solitarily, masked as a jabiru crane (a large animal standing
about four feet high), and mimicked the gait and habits of the
bird uncommonly well. One year an Indian lad imitated me, to the
infinite amusement of the townsfolk. He came the previous day to
borrow of me an old blouse and straw hat. I felt rather taken in
when I saw him, on the night of the performance, rigged out as an
entomologist, with an insect net, hunting bag, and pincushion. To
make the imitation complete, he had borrowed the frame of an old
pair of spectacles, and went about with it straddled over his
nose. The jaguar now and then made a raid amongst the crowd of
boys who were dressed as deer, goats, and so forth. The masquers
kept generally together, moving from house to house, and the
performances were directed by an old musician, who sang the
orders and explained to the spectators what was going forward in
a kind of recitative, accompanying himself on a wire guitar. The
mixture of Portuguese and Indian customs is partly owing to the
European immigrants in these parts having been uneducated men,
who, instead of introducing European civilisation, have descended
almost to the level of the Indians, and adopted some of their
practices. The performances take place in the evening, and occupy
five or six hours; bonfires are lighted along the grassy streets,
and the families of the better class are seated at their doors,
enjoying the wild but good-humoured fun.

We lived at Ega, during most part of the year, on turtle. The
great freshwater turtle of the Amazons grows on the upper river
to an immense size, a full-grown one measuring nearly three feet
in length by two in breadth, and is a load for the strongest
Indian. Every house has a little pond, called a curral (pen), in
the backyard to hold a stock of the animals through the season of
dearth--the wet months; those who have a number of Indians in
their employ send them out for a month when the waters are low,
to collect a stock, and those who have not, purchasing their
supply-- with some difficulty, however, as they are rarely
offered for sale. The price of turtles, like that of all other
articles of food, has risen greatly with the introduction of
steam-vessels. When I arrived in 1850, a middle-sized one could
be bought pretty readily for ninepence, but when I left in 1859,
they were with difficulty obtained at eight and nine shillings
each. The abundance of turtles, or rather the facility with which
they can be found and caught, varies with the amount of annual
subsidence of the waters. When the river sinks less than the
average, they are scarce; but when more, they can be caught in
plenty, the bays and shallow lagoons in the forest having then
only a small depth of water. The flesh is very tender, palatable,
and wholesome; but it is very cloying-- every one ends, sooner or
later, by becoming thoroughly surfeited. I became so sick of
turtle in the course of two years that I could not bear the smell
of it, although at the same time nothing else was to be had, and
I was suffering actual hunger. The native women cook it in
various ways. The entrails are chopped up and made into a
delicious soup called sarapatel, which is generally boiled in the
concave upper shell of the animal used as a kettle. The tender
flesh of the breast is partially minced with farinha, and the
breast shell then roasted over the fire, making a very pleasant
dish. Steaks cut from the breast and cooked with the fat form
another palatable dish. Large sausages are made of the thick-
coated stomach, which is filled with minced meat and boiled. The
quarters cooked in a kettle of Tucupi sauce form another variety
of food. When surfeited with turtle in all other shapes, pieces
of the lean part roasted on a spit and moistened only with
vinegar make an agreeable change. The smaller kind of turtle, the
tracaja, which makes its appearance in the main river, and lays
its eggs a month earlier than the large species, is of less
utility to the inhabitants although its flesh is superior, on
account of the difficulty of keeping it alive; it survives
captivity but a very few days, although placed in the same ponds
in which the large turtle keeps well for two or three years.

Those who cannot hunt and fish for themselves, and whose stomachs
refuse turtle, are in a poor way at Ega. Fish, including many
kinds of large and delicious salmonidae, is abundant in the fine
season; but each family fishes only for itself, and has no
surplus for sale. An Indian fisherman remains out just long
enough to draw what he thinks sufficient for a couple of days'
consumption. Vacca marina is a great resource in the wet season.
It is caught by harpooning, which requires much skill, or by
strong nets made of very thick hammock twine, and placed across
narrow inlets. Very few Europeans are able to eat the meat of
this animal. Although there is a large quantity of cattle in the
neighbourhood of the town, and pasture is abundant all the year
round, beef can be had only when a beast is killed by accident.

The most frequent cause of death is poisoning by drinking raw
Tucupi, the juice of the mandioca root. Bowls of this are placed
on the ground in the sheds where the women prepare farinha; it is
generally done carelessly, but sometimes intentionally through
spite when stray oxen devastate the plantations of the poorer
people. The juice, is almost certain to be drunk if cattle stray
near the place, and death is the certain result. The owners kill
a beast which shows symptoms of having been poisoned, and retail
the beef in the town. Although every one knows it cannot be
wholesome, such is the scarcity of meat and the uncontrollable
desire to eat beef, that it is eagerly bought, at least by those
residents who come from other provinces where beef is the staple
article of food. Game of all kinds is scarce in the forest near
the town, except in the months of June and July, when immense
numbers of a large and handsome bird, Cuvier's toucan (Ramphastos
Cuvieri) make their appearance. They come in well-fed condition,
and are shot in such quantities that every family has the strange
treat of stewed and roasted toucans daily for many weeks.
Curassow birds are plentiful on the banks of the Solimoens, but
to get a brace or two requires the sacrifice of several days for
the trip. A tapir, of which the meat is most delicious and
nourishing, is sometimes killed by a fortunate hunter. I have
still a lively recollection of the pleasant effects which I once
experienced from a diet of fresh tapir meat for a few days, after
having been brought to a painful state of bodily and mental
depression by a month's scanty rations of fish and farinha.

We sometimes had fresh bread at Ega made from American flour
brought from Para, but it was sold at ninepence a pound. I was
once two years without tasting wheaten bread, and attribute
partly to this the gradual deterioration of health which I
suffered on the Upper Amazons. Mandioca meal is a poor, weak
substitute for bread; it is deficient in gluten, and consequently
cannot be formed into a leavened mass or loaf, but is obliged to
be roasted in hard grains in order to keep any length of time.
Cakes are made of the half-roasted meal, but they become sour in
a very few hours. A superior kind of meal is manufactured at Ega
of the sweet mandioca (Manihot Aypi); it is generally made with a
mixture of the starch of the root and is therefore a much more
wholesome article of food than the ordinary sort which, on the
Amazons, is made of the pulp after the starch has been extracted
by soaking in water. When we could get neither bread nor biscuit,
I found tapioca soaked in coffee the best native substitute. We
were seldom without butter, as every canoe brought one or two
casks on each return voyage from Para, where it is imported in
considerable quantity from Liverpool. We obtained tea in the same
way; it being served as a fashionable luxury at wedding and
christening parties; the people were at first strangers to this
article, for they used to stew it in a saucepan, mixing it up
with coarse raw sugar, and stirring it with a spoon. Sometimes we
had milk, but this was only when a cow calved; the yield from
each cow was very small, and lasted only for a few weeks in each
case, although the pasture is good, and the animals are sleek and
fat. Fruit of the ordinary tropical sorts could generally be had.
I was quite surprised at the variety of the wild kinds, and of
the delicious flavour of some of them. Many of these are utterly
unknown in the regions nearer the Atlantic, being the peculiar
productions of this highly favoured, and little known, interior
country. Some have been planted by the natives in their
clearings. The best was the Jabuti-puhe, or tortoise-foot; a
scaled fruit probably of the Anonaceous order. It is about the
size of an ordinary apple; when ripe the rind is moderately thin,
and encloses, with the seeds, a quantity of custardy pulp of a
very rich flavour. Next to this stands the Cuma (Collophora sp.)
of which there are two species, not unlike in appearance, small
round Dears-- but the rind is rather hard, and contains a gummy
milk, and the pulpy part is almost as delicious as that of the
Jabuti-puhe. The Cuma tree is of moderate height, and grows
rather plentifully in the more elevated and drier situations. A
third kind is the Pama, which is a stone fruit, similar in colour
and appearance to the cherry but of oblong shape. The tree is one
of the loftiest in the forest, and has never, I believe, been
selected for cultivation. To get at the fruit the natives are
obliged to climb to the height of about a hundred feet, and cut
off the heavily laden branches. I have already mentioned the
Umari and the Wishi: both these are now cultivated. The fatty,
bitter pulp which surrounds the large stony seeds of these fruits
is eaten mixed with farinha, and is very nourishing. Another
cultivated fruit is the Puruma (Puruma cecropiaefolia, Martius),
a round juicy berry, growing in large bunches and resembling
grapes in taste. Another smaller kind, called Puruma-i, grows
wild in the forest close to Ega, and has not yet been planted.
The most singular of all these fruits is the Uiki, which is of
oblong shape, and grows apparently crosswise on the end of its
stalk. When ripe, the thick green rind opens by a natural cleft
across the middle, and discloses an oval seed the size of a
damascene plum, but of a vivid crimson colour. This bright hue
belongs to a thin coating of pulp which, when the seeds are mixed
in a plate of stewed bananas, gives to the mess a pleasant rosy
tint, and a rich creamy taste and consistence. Mingua (porridge)
of bananas flavoured and  with Uiki is a favourite dish
at Ega. The fruit, like most of the others here mentioned, ripens
in January. Many smaller fruits such as Wajuru (probably a
species of Achras), the size of a gooseberry, which grows singly
and contains a sweet gelatinous pulp, enclosing two large,
shining black seeds; Cashipari-arapaa, an oblong scarlet berry;
two kinds of Bacuri, the Bacuri-siuma and the B. curua, sour
fruits of a bright lemon colour when ripe, and a great number of
others, are of less importance as articles of food.

The celebrated "Peach palm," Pupunha of the Tupi nations
(Guilielma speciosa), is a common tree at Ega. The name, I
suppose, is in allusion to the colour of the fruit, and not to
its flavour, for it is dry and mealy, and in taste may be
compared to a mixture of chestnuts and cheese. Vultures devour it
eagerly, and come in quarrelsome flocks to the trees when it is
ripe. Dogs will also eat it: I do not recollect seeing cats do
the same, although they go voluntarily to the woods to eat
Tucuma, another kind of palm fruit. The tree, as it grows in
clusters beside the palm-thatched huts, is a noble ornament,
being, when full grown, from fifty to sixty feet in height and
often as straight as a scaffold-pole. A bunch of fruit when ripe
is a load for a strong man, and each tree bears several of them.
The Pupunha grows wild nowhere on the Amazons. It is one of those
few vegetable productions (including three kinds of mandioca and
the American species of banana) which the Indians have cultivated
from time immemorial, and brought with them in their original
migration to Brazil. It is only, however, the more advanced
tribes who have kept up the cultivation. The superiority of the
fruit on the Solimoens to that grown on the Lower Amazons and in
the neighbourhood of Para is very striking. At Ega it is
generally as large as a full-sized peach, and when boiled, almost
as mealy as a potato; while at Para it is no bigger than a
walnut, and the pulp is fibrous. Bunches of sterile or seedless
fruits sometimes occur in both districts. It is one of the
principal articles of food at Ega when in season, and is boiled
and eaten with treacle or salt. A dozen of the seedless fruits
makes a good nourishing meal for a grown-up person. It is the
general belief that there is more nutriment in Pupunha than in
fish or Vacca marina.

The seasons in the Upper Amazons region offer some points of
difference from those of the lower river and the district of
Para, which two sections of the country we have already seen also
differ considerably. The year at Ega is divided according to the
rises and falls of the river, with which coincide the wet and dry
periods. All the principal transactions of life of the
inhabitants are regulated by these yearly recurring phenomena.
The peculiarity of this upper region consists in there being two
rises and two falls within the year. The great annual rise
commences about the end of February and continues to the middle
of June, during which the rivers and lakes, confined during the
dry periods to their ordinary beds, gradually swell and overflow
all the lower lands. The inundation progresses gently inch by
inch, and is felt everywhere, even in the interior of the forests
of the higher lands, miles away from the river; as these are
traversed by numerous gullies, forming in the fine season dry,
spacious dells, which become gradually transformed by the
pressure of the flood into broad creeks navigable, by small boats
under the shade of trees. All the countless swarms of turtle of
various species then leave the main river for the inland pools;
the sand-banks go under water, and the flocks of wading birds
migrate north to the upper waters of the tributaries which flow
from that direction, or to the Orinoco, which streams during the
wet period of the Amazons are enjoying the cloudless skies of
their dry season. The families of fishermen who have been
employed during the previous four or five months in harpooning
and salting pirarucu and shooting turtle in the great lakes, now
return to the towns and villages-- their temporarily constructed
fishing establishments becoming gradually submerged with the sand
islets or beaches on which they were situated. This is the
season, however, in which the Brazil nut and wild cacao ripen,
and many persons go out to gather these harvests, remaining
absent generally throughout the months of March and April. The
rains during this time are not continuous; they fall very heavily
at times, but rarely last so long at a stretch as twenty-four
hours, and many days intervene of pleasant, sunny weather. The
sky, however, is generally overcast and gloomy, and sometimes a
drizzling rain falls.

About the first week in June the flood is at its highest; the
water being then about forty-five feet above its lowest point;
but it varies in different years to the extent of about fifteen
feet. The "enchente," or flow, as it is called by the natives,
who believe this great annual movement of the waters to be of the
same nature as the tide towards the mouth of the Amazons, is then
completed, and all begin to look forward to the "vasante," or
ebb. The provision made for the dearth of the wet season is by
this time pretty nearly exhausted; fish is difficult to procure
and many of the less provident inhabitants have become reduced to
a diet of fruits and farinha porridge.

The fine season begins with a few days of brilliant weather--
furious, hot sun, with passing clouds. Idle men and women, tired
of the dullness and confinement of the flood season, begin to
report, on returning from their morning bath, the cessation of
the flow-- as agoas estao paradas, "the waters have stopped." The
muddy streets, in a few days, dry up; groups of young fellows are
now seen seated on the shady sides of the cottages making arrows
and knitting fishing-nets with tucum twine; others are busy
patching up and caulking their canoes, large and small; in fact,
preparations are made on all sides for the much longed-for
"verao," or summer, and the "migration," as it is called, of fish
and turtle-- that is, their descent from the inaccessible pools
in the forest to the main river. Towards the middle of July, the
sand-banks begin to reappear above the surface of the waters, and
with this change come flocks of sandpipers and gulls, which
latter make known the advent of the fine season, as the cuckoo
does of the European spring-- uttering almost incessantly their
plaintive cries as they fly about over the shallow waters of
sandy shores. Most of the gaily-plumaged birds have now finished
moulting, and begin to be more active in the forest.

The fall continues to the middle of October, with the
interruption of a partial rise called "repiquet" of a few inches
in the midst of very dry weather in September, caused by the
swollen contribution of some large affluent higher up the river.
The amount of subsidence also varies considerably, but it is
never so great as to interrupt navigation by large vessels. The
greater it is the more abundant is the season. Everyone is
prosperous when the waters are low; the shallow bays and pools
being then crowded with the concentrated population of fish and
turtle. All the people-- men, women, and children-- leave the
villages and spend the few weeks of glorious weather rambling
over the vast undulating expanses of sand in the middle of the
Solimoens, fishing, hunting, collecting eggs of turtle and
plovers and thoroughly enjoying themselves. The inhabitants pray
always for a "vasante grande," or great ebb.

From the middle of October to the beginning of January, the
second wet season prevails. The rise is sometimes not more than
about fifteen feet, but it is, in some years, much more
extensive, laying the large sand islands under water before the
turtle eggs are hatched. In one year, while I resided at Ega,
this second annual inundation reached to within ten feet of the
highest water point as marked by the stains on the trunks of
trees by the river side.

The second dry season comes on in January, and lasts throughout
February. The river sinks sometimes to the extent of a few feet
only, but one year (1856) I saw it ebb to within about five feet
of its lowest point in September. This is called the summer of
the Umari, "Verao do Umari," after the fruit of this name already
described, which ripens at this season. When the fall is great,
this is the best time to catch turtles. In the year above
mentioned, nearly all the residents who had a canoe, and could
work a paddle, went out after them in the month of February, and
about 2000 were caught in the course of a few days. It appears
that they had been arrested in their migration towards the
interior pools of the forest by the sudden drying up of the
water-courses, and so had become easy prey.

Thus the Ega year is divided into four seasons; two of dry
weather and falling waters, and two of the reverse. Besides this
variety, there is, in the month of May, a short season of very
cold weather, a most surprising circumstance in this otherwise
uniformly sweltering climate. This is caused by the continuance
of a cold wind, which blows from the south over the humid forests
that extend without interruption from north of the equator to the
eighteenth parallel of latitude in Bolivia. I had, unfortunately,
no thermometer with me at Ega-- the only one I brought with me
from England having been lost at Para. The temperature is so much
lowered that fishes die in the river Teffe, and are cast in
considerable quantities on its shores. The wind is not strong,
but it brings cloudy weather, and lasts from three to five or six
days in each year. The inhabitants all suffer much from the cold,
many of them wrapping themselves up with the warmest clothing
they can get (blankets are here unknown), and shutting themselves
indoors with a charcoal fire lighted. I found, myself, the change
of temperature most delightful, and did not require extra
clothing. It was a bad time, however, for my pursuit, as birds
and insects all betook themselves to places of concealment, and
remained inactive. The period during which this wind prevails is
called the "tempo da friagem," or the season of coldness. The
phenomenon, I presume, is to be accounted for by the fact that in
May it is winter in the southern temperate zone, and that the
cool currents of air travelling thence northwards towards the
equator become only moderately heated in their course, owing to
the intermediate country being a vast, partially-flooded plain
covered with humid forests.


CHAPTER XI

EXCURSIONS IN THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF EGA

The River Teffe--Rambles through Groves on the Beach--Excursion
to the House of a Passe Chieftain--Character and Customs of the
Passe Tribe--First Excursion: Sand Islands of the Solimoens--
Habits of Great River Turtle--Second Excursion:Turtle-fishing in
the Inland Pools--Third Excursion: Hunting-rambles with Natives
in
the Forest--Return to Ega

I WILL now proceed to give some account of the more interesting
of my shorter excursions in the neighbourhood of Ega. The
incidents of the longer voyages, which occupied each several
months, will be narrated in a separate chapter.

The settlement, as before described, is built on a small tract of
cleared land at the lower or eastern end of the lake, six or
seven miles from the main Amazons, with which the lake
communicates by a narrow channel. On the opposite shore of the
broad expanse stands a small village, called Nogueira, the houses
of which are not visible from Ega, except on very clear days; the
coast on the Nogueira side is high, and stretches away into the
grey distance towards the southwest. The upper part of the river
Teffe is not visited by the Ega people, on account of its extreme
unhealthiness, and its barrenness in sarsaparilla and other
wares. To Europeans it would seem a most surprising thing that
the people of a civilised settlement, a hundred and seventy years
old, should still be ignorant of the course of the river on whose
banks their native place, for which they proudly claim the title
of city, is situated. It would be very difficult for a private
individual to explore it, as the necessary number of Indian
paddlers could not be obtained. I knew only one person who had
ascended the Teffe to any considerable distance, and he was not
able to give me a distinct account of the river. The only tribe
known to live on its banks are the Catauishis, a people who
perforate their lips all round, and wear rows of slender sticks
in the holes: their territory lies between the Purus and the
Jurua, embracing both shores of the Teffe. A large, navigable
stream, the Bararua, enters the lake from the west, about thirty
miles above Ega; the breadth of the lake is much contracted a
little below the mouth of this tributary, but it again expands
further south, and terminates abruptly where the Teffe proper, a
narrow river with a strong current, forms its head water.

The whole of the country for hundreds of miles is covered with
picturesque but pathless forests, and there are only two roads
along which excursions can be made by land from Ega. One is a
narrow hunter's track, about two miles in length, which traverses
the forest in the rear of the settlement. The other is an
extremely pleasant path along the beach to the west of the town.
This is practicable only in the dry season, when a flat strip of
white sandy beach is exposed at the foot of the high wooded banks
of the lake, covered with trees, which, as there is no underwood,
form a spacious shady grove. I rambled daily, during many weeks
of each successive dry season, along this delightful road. The
trees, many of which are myrtles and wild Guavas, with smooth
yellow stems, were in flower at this time; and the rippling
waters of the lake, under the cool shade, everywhere bordered the
path. The place was the resort of kingfishers, green and blue
tree-creepers, purple-headed tanagers, and hummingbirds. Birds
generally, however, were not numerous. Every tree was tenanted by
Cicadas, the reedy notes of which produced that loud, jarring,
insect music which is the general accompaniment of a woodland
ramble in a hot climate. One species was very handsome, having
wings adorned with patches of bright green and scarlet. It was
very common-- sometimes three or four tenanting a single tree,
clinging as usual to the branches. On approaching a tree thus
peopled, a number of little jets of a clear liquid would be seen
squirted from aloft. I have often received the well-directed
discharge full on my face; but the liquid is harmless, having a
sweetish taste, and is ejected by the insect from the anus,
probably in self-defence, or from fear. The number and variety of
gaily-tinted butterflies, sporting about in this grove on sunny
days, were so great that the bright moving flakes of colour gave
quite a character to the physiognomy of the place. It was
impossible to walk far without disturbing flocks of them from the
damp sand at the edge of the water, where they congregated to
imbibe the moisture. They were of almost all colours, sizes, and
shapes: I noticed here altogether eighty species, belonging to
twenty-two different genera. It is a singular fact that, with
very few exceptions, all the individuals of these various species
thus sporting in sunny places were of the male sex; their
partners, which are much more soberly dressed and immensely less
numerous than the males, being confined to the shades of the
woods. Every afternoon, as the sun was getting low, I used to
notice these gaudy sunshine-loving swains trooping off to the
forest, where I suppose they would find their sweethearts and
wives. The most abundant, next to the very common sulphur-yellow
and orange- kinds, were about a dozen species of Eunica,
which are of large size, and are conspicuous from their liveries
of glossy dark-blue and purple. A superbly-adorned creature, the
Callithea Markii, having wings of a thick texture, 
sapphire-blue and orange, was only an occasional visitor. On
certain days, when the weather was very calm, two small gilded-
green species (Symmachia Trochilus and Colubris) literally
swarmed on the sands, their glittering wings lying wide open on
the flat surface. The beach terminates, eight miles beyond Ega,
at the mouth of a rivulet; the character of the coast then
changes, the river banks being masked by a line of low islets
amid a labyrinth of channels.

In all other directions my very numerous excursions were by
water; the most interesting of those made in the immediate
neighbourhood were to the houses of Indians on the banks of
retired creeks-- an account of one of these trips will suffice.

On the 23rd of May, 1850, I visited, in company with Antonio
Cardozo, the Delegado, a family of the Passe tribe, who live near
the head waters of the Igarape, which flows from the south into
the Teffe, entering it at Ega. The creek is more than a quarter
of a mile broad near the town, but a few miles inland it
gradually contracts, until it becomes a mere rivulet flowing
through a broad dell in the forest. When the river rises it fills
this dell; the trunks of the lofty trees then stand many feet
deep in the water, and small canoes are able to travel the
distance of a day's journey under the shade, regular paths or
alleys being cut through the branches and lower trees. This is
the general character of the country of the Upper Amazons; a land
of small elevation and abruptly undulated, the hollows forming
narrow valleys in the dry months, and deep navigable creeks in
the wet months. In retired nooks on the margins of these shady
rivulets, a few families or small hordes of aborigines still
linger in nearly their primitive state, the relicts of their once
numerous tribes. The family we intended to visit on this trip was
that of Pedro-uassu (Peter the Great, or Tall Peter), an old
chieftain or Tushaua of the Passes.

We set out at sunrise, in a small igarite, manned by six young
Indian paddlers. After travelling about three miles along the
broad portion of the creek-- which, being surrounded by woods,
had the appearance of a large pool-- we came to a part where our
course seemed to be stopped by an impenetrable hedge of trees and
bushes. We were some time before finding the entrance, but when
fairly within the shades, a remarkable scene presented itself. It
was my first introduction to these singular waterpaths. A narrow
and tolerably straight alley stretched away for a long distance
before us; on each side were the tops of bushes and young trees,
forming a kind of border to the path, and the trunks of the tall
forest trees rose at irregular intervals from the water, their
crowns interlocking far over our heads, and forming a thick
shade. Slender air roots hung down in clusters, and looping sipos
dangled from the lower branches; bunches of grass, tillandsiae,
and ferns sat in the forks of the larger boughs, and the trunks
of trees near the water had adhering to them round dried masses
of freshwater sponges. There was no current perceptible, and the
water was stained of a dark olive-brown hue, but the submerged
stems could be seen through it to a great depth. We travelled at
good speed for three hours along this shady road-- the distance
of Pedro's house from Ega being about twenty miles. When the
paddlers rested for a time, the stillness and gloom of the place
became almost painful: our voices waked dull echoes as we
conversed, and the noise made by fishes occasionally whipping the
surface of the water was quite startling. A cool, moist, clammy
air pervaded the sunless shade.

The breadth of the wooded valley, at the commencement, is
probably more than half a mile, and there is a tolerably clear
view for a considerable distance on each side of the water-path
through the irregular colonnade of trees; other paths also, in
this part, branch off right and left from the principal road,
leading to the scattered houses of Indians on the mainland. The
dell contracts gradually towards the head of the rivulet, and the
forest then becomes denser; the waterpath also diminishes in
width, and becomes more winding, on account of the closer growth
of the trees. The boughs of some are stretched forth at no great
height over one's head, and are seen to be loaded with epiphytes;
one orchid I noticed particularly, on account of its bright
yellow flowers growing at the end of flower-stems several feet
long. Some of the trunks, especially those of palms, close
beneath their crowns, were clothed with a thick mass of glossy
shield-shaped Pothos plants, mingled with ferns. Arrived at this
part we were, in fact, in the heart of the virgin forest. We
heard no noises of animals in the trees, and saw only one bird,
the sky-blue chatterer, sitting alone on a high branch. For some
distance the lower vegetation was so dense that the road runs
under an arcade of foliage, the branches having been cut away
only sufficiently to admit of the passage of a small canoe. These
thickets are formed chiefly of bamboos, whose slender foliage and
curving stems arrange themselves in elegant, feathery bowers; but
other social plants --slender green climbers with tendrils so
eager in aspiring to grasp the higher boughs that they seem to be
endowed almost with animal energy, and certain low trees having
large elegantly-veined leaves-- contribute also to the jungly
masses. Occasionally we came upon an uprooted tree lying across
the path, its voluminous crown still held up by thick cables of
sipo, connecting it with standing trees; a wide circuit had to be
made in these cases, and it was sometimes difficult to find the
right path again.

At length we arrived at our journey's end. We were then in a very
dense and gloomy part of the forest-- we could see, however, the
dry land on both sides of the creek, and to our right a small
sunny opening appeared, the landing place to the native
dwellings. The water was deep close to the bank, and a clean
pathway ascended from the shady port to the buildings, which were
about a furlong distant. My friend Cardozo was godfather to a
grandchild of Pedro-uassu, whose daughter had married an Indian
settled in Ega. He had sent word to the old man that he intended
to visit him: we were therefore expected.

As we landed, Pedro-uassu himself came down to the port to
receive us, our arrival having been announced by the barking of
dogs. He was a tall and thin old man, with a serious, but
benignant expression of countenance, and a manner much freer from
shyness and distrust than is usual with Indians. He was clad in a
shirt of coarse cotton cloth, dyed with murishi, and trousers of
the same material turned up to the knee. His features were
sharply delineated-- more so than in any Indian face I had yet
seen; the lips thin and the nose rather high and compressed. A
large, square, blue-black tattooed patch occupied the middle of
his face, which, as well as the other exposed parts of his body,
was of a light reddish-tan colour, instead of the usual coppery-
brown hue. He walked with an upright, slow gait, and on reaching
us saluted Cardozo with the air of a man who wished it to be
understood that he was dealing with an equal. My friend
introduced me, and I was welcomed in the same grave, ceremonious
manner. He seemed to have many questions to ask, but they were
chiefly about Senora Felippa, Cardozo's Indian housekeeper at
Ega, and were purely complimentary. This studied politeness is
quite natural to Indians of the advanced agricultural tribes. The
language used was Tupi-- I heard no other spoken all the day. It
must be borne in mind that Pedro-uassu had never had much
intercourse with whites; he was, although baptised, a primitive
Indian who had always lived in retirement, the ceremony of
baptism having been gone through, as it generally is by the
aborigines, simply from a wish to stand well with the whites.

Arrived at the house, we were welcomed by Pedro's wife: a thin,
wrinkled, active old squaw, tattooed in precisely the same way as
her husband. She also had sharp features, but her manner was more
cordial and quicker than that of her husband: she talked much,
and with great inflection of voice; while the tones of the old
man were rather drawling and querulous. Her clothing was a long
petticoat of thick cotton cloth, and a very short chemise, not
reaching to her waist. I was rather surprised to find the grounds
around the establishment in neater order than in any sitio, even
of civilised people, I had yet seen on the Upper Amazons; the
stock of utensils and household goods of all sorts was larger,
and the evidences of regular industry and plenty more numerous
than one usually perceives in the farms of civilised Indians and
whites. The buildings were of the same construction as those of
the humbler settlers in all other parts of the country. The
family lived in a large, oblong, open shed built under the shade
of trees. Two smaller buildings, detached from the shed and
having mud-walls with low doorways, contained apparently the
sleeping apartments of different members of the large household.
A small mill for grinding sugar-cane, having two cylinders of
hard notched wood, wooden troughs, and kettles for boiling the
guarapa (cane juice) to make treacle, stood under a separate
shed, and near it was a large enclosed mud-house for poultry.
There was another hut and shed a short distance off, inhabited by
a family dependent on Pedro, and a narrow pathway through the
luxuriant woods led to more dwellings of the same kind. There was
an abundance of fruit trees around the place, including the
never-failing banana, with its long, broad, soft green leaf-
blades, and groups of full-grown Pupunhas, or peach palms. There
was also a large number of cotton and coffee trees. Among the
utensils I noticed baskets of different shapes, made of flattened
maranta stalks, and dyed various colours. The making of these is
an original art of the Passes, but I believe it is also practised
by other tribes, for I saw several in the houses of semi-
civilised Indians on the Tapajos.

There were only three persons in the house besides the old
couple, the rest of the people being absent; several came in,
however, in the course of the day. One was a daughter of Pedro's,
who had an oval tattooed spot over her mouth; the second was a
young grandson; and the third the son-in-law from Ega, Cardozo's
compadre. The old woman was occupied, when we entered, in
distilling spirits from cara, an edible root similar to the
potato, by means of a clay still, which had been manufactured by
herself. The liquor had a reddish tint, but not a very agreeable
flavour. A cup of it, warm from the still, however, was welcome
after our long journey. Cardozo liked it, emptied his cup, and
replenished it in a very short time. The old lady was very
talkative, and almost fussy in her desire to please her visitors.
We sat in tucum hammocks, suspended between the upright posts of
the shed. The young woman with the blue mouth-- who, although
married, was as shy as any young maiden of her race--soon became
employed in scalding and plucking fowls for the dinner near the
fire on the ground at the other end of the dwelling. The son-in-
law, Pedro-uassu, and Cardozo now began a long conversation on
the subject of their deceased wife, daughter, and comadre. [Co-
mother; the term expressing the relationship of a mother to the
godfather of her child.] It appeared she had died of consumption-
-"tisica," as they called it, a word adopted by the Indians from
the Portuguese. The widower repeated over and over again, in
nearly the same words, his account of her illness, Pedro chiming
in like a chorus, and Cardozo moralising and condoling. I thought
the cauim (grog) had a good deal to do with the flow of talk and
warmth of feeling of all three; the widower drank and wailed
until he became maundering, and finally fell asleep.I left them
talking, and took a long ramble into the forest, Pedro sending
his grandson, a smiling well-behaved lad of about fourteen years
of age, to show me the paths, my companion taking with him his
Zarabatana, or blow-gun. This instrument is used by all the
Indian tribes on the Upper Amazons. It is generally nine or ten
feet long, and is made of two separate lengths of wood, each
scooped out so as to form one-half of the tube. To do this with
the necessary accuracy requires an enormous amount of patient
labour, and considerable mechanical ability, the tools used being
simply the incisor teeth of the Paca and Cutia. The two half
tubes, when finished, are secured together by a very close and
tight spirally-wound strapping, consisting of long flat strips of
Jacitara, or the wood of the climbing palm-tree; and the whole is
smeared afterwards with black wax, the production of a Melipona
bee. The pipe tapers towards the muzzle, and a cup-shaped
mouthpiece, made of wood, is fitted in the broad end. A full-
sized Zarabatana is heavy, and can only be used by an adult
Indian who has had great practice. The young lads learn to shoot
with smaller and lighter tubes. When Mr. Wallace and I had
lessons at Barra in the use of the blow-gun, of Julio, a Juri
Indian, then in the employ of Mr. Hauxwell, an English bird-
collector, we found it very difficult to hold steadily the long
tubes. The arrows are made from the hard rind of the leaf-stalks
of certain palms, thin strips being cut, and rendered as sharp as
needles by scraping the ends with a knife or the tooth of an
animal. They are winged with a little oval mass of samauma silk
(from the seed-vessels of the silk-cotton tree, Eriodendron
samauma), cotton being too heavy. The ball of samauma should fit
to a nicety the bore of the blowgun; when it does so, the arrow
can be propelled with such force by the breath that it makes a
noise almost as loud as a pop-gun on flying from the muzzle. My
little companion was armed with a quiver full of these little
missiles, a small number of which, sufficient for the day's
sport, were tipped with the fatal Urari poison. The quiver was an
ornamental affair, the broad rim being made of highly-polished
wood of a rich cherry-red colour (the Moira-piranga, or redwood
of the Japura). The body was formed of neatly-plaited strips of
Maranta stalks, and the belt by which it was suspended from the
shoulder was decorated with cotton fringes and tassels.

We walked about two miles along a well-trodden pathway, through
high caapoeira (second-growth forest). A large proportion of the
trees were Melastomas, which bore a hairy yellow fruit, nearly as
large and as well flavoured as our gooseberry. The season,
however, was nearly over for them. The road was bordered every
inch of the way by a thick bed of elegant Lycopodiums. An
artificial arrangement of trees and bushes could scarcely have
been made to wear so finished an appearance as this naturally
decorated avenue. The path at length terminated at a plantation
of mandioca, the largest I had yet seen since I left the
neighbourhood of Para. There were probably ten acres of cleared
land, and part of the ground was planted with Indian corn, water-
melons, and sugar cane. Beyond this field there was only a faint
hunter's track, leading towards the untrodden interior. My
companion told me he had never heard of there being any
inhabitants in that direction (the south). We crossed the forest
from this place to another smaller clearing, and then walked, on
our road home, through about two miles of caapoeira of various
ages, the sites of old plantations. The only fruits of our ramble
were a few rare insects and a Japu (Cassicus cristatus), a
handsome bird with chestnut and saffron- plumage, which
wanders through the tree-tops in large flocks. My little
companion brought this down from a height which I calculated at
thirty yards. The blow-gun, however, in the hands of an expert
adult Indian, can be made to propel arrows so as to kill at a
distance of fifty and sixty yards. The aim is most certain when
the tube is held vertically, or nearly so. It is a far more
useful weapon in the forest than a gun, for the report of a
firearm alarms the whole flock of birds or monkeys feeding on a
tree, while the silent poisoned dart brings the animals down one
by one until the sportsman has a heap of slain by his side. None
but the stealthy Indian can use it effectively. The poison, which
must be fresh to kill speedily, is obtained only of the Indians
who live beyond the cataracts of the rivers flowing from the
north, especially the Rio <DW64> and the Japura. Its principal
ingredient is the wood of the Strychnos toxifera, a tree which
does not grow in the humid forests of the river plains. A most
graphic account of the Urari, and of an expedition undertaken in
search of the tree in Guiana, has been given by Sir Robert
Schomburgk. [Annals and Magazine of Natural History, vol. vii. P.
411.]

When we returned to the house after mid-day, Cardozo was still
sipping cauim, and now looked exceedingly merry. It was fearfully
hot; the good fellow sat in his hammock with a cuya full of grog
in his hands; his broad honest face all of a glow, and the
perspiration streaming down his uncovered breast, the unbuttoned
shirt having slipped half-way over his broad shoulders. Pedro-
uassu had not drunk much; he was noted, as I afterwards learned,
for his temperance. But he was standing up as I had left him two
hours previous, talking to Cardozo in the same monotonous tones,
the conversation apparently not having flagged all the time. I
had never heard so much talking amongst Indians. The widower was
asleep; the stirring, managing old lady with her daughter were
preparing dinner. This, which was ready soon after I entered,
consisted of boiled fowls and rice, seasoned with large green
peppers and lemon juice, and piles of new, fragrant farinha and
raw bananas. It was served on plates of English manufacture on a
tupe, or large plaited rush mat, such as is made by the natives
pretty generally on the Amazons. Three or four other Indians, men
and women of middle age, now made their appearance, and joined in
the meal. We all sat round on the floor: the women, according to
custom, not eating until after the men had done. Before sitting
down, our host apologised in his usual quiet, courteous manner
for not having knives and forks; Cardozo and I ate by the aid of
wooden spoons, the Indians using their fingers. The old man
waited until we were all served before he himself commenced. At
the end of the meal, one of the women brought us water in a
painted clay basin of Indian manufacture, and a clean coarse
cotton napkin, that we might wash our hands.

The horde of Passes of which Pedro-uassu was Tushaua or
chieftain, was at this time reduced to a very small number of
individuals. The disease mentioned in the last chapter had for
several generations made great havoc among them; many had also
entered the service of whites at Ega, and, of late years,
intermarriages with whites, half-castes, and civilised Indians
had been frequent. The old man bewailed the fate of his race to
Cardozo with tears in his eyes. "The people of my nation," he
said," have always been good friends to the Cariwas (whites), but
before my grandchildren are old like me the name of Passe will be
forgotten." In so far as the Passes have amalgamated with
European immigrants or their descendants, and become civilised
Brazilian citizens, there can scarcely be ground for lamenting
their extinction as a nation; but it fills one with regret to
learn how many die prematurely of a disease which seems to arise
on their simply breathing the same air as the whites. The
original territory of the tribe must have been of large extent,
for Passes are said to have been found by the early Portuguese
colonists on the Rio <DW64>; an ancient settlement on that river,
Barcellos, having been peopled by them when it was first
established; and they formed also part of the original population
of Fonte-boa on the Solimoens. Their hordes were therefore,
spread over a region 400 miles in length from cast to west. It is
probable, however, that they have been confounded by the
colonists with other neighbouring tribes who tattoo their faces
in a similar manner. The extinct tribe of Yurimauas, or Sorimoas,
from which the river Solimoens derives its name, according to
traditions extant at Ega, resembled the Passes in their slender
figures and friendly disposition. These tribes (with others lying
between them) peopled the banks of the main river and its by-
streams from the mouth of the Rio <DW64> to Peru. True Passes
existed in their primitive state on the banks of the Issa, 240
miles to the west of Ega, within the memory of living persons.
The only large body of them now extant are located on the Japura,
at a place distant about 150 miles from Ega: the population of
this horde, however, does not exceed, from what I could learn,
300 or 400 persons. I think it probable that the lower part of
the Japura and its extensive delta lands formed the original home
of this gentle tribe of Indians.

The Passes are always spoken of in this country as the most
advanced of all the Indian nations in the Amazons region. Under
what influences this tribe has become so strongly modified in
mental, social, and bodily features it is hard to divine. The
industrious habits, fidelity, and mildness of disposition of the
Passes, their docility and, it may be added, their personal
beauty, especially of the children and women, made them from the
first very attractive to the Portuguese colonists. They were,
consequently, enticed in great number from their villages and
brought to Barra and other settlements of the whites. The wives
of governors and military officers from Europe were always eager
to obtain children for domestic servants; the girls being taught
to sew, cook, weave hammocks, manufacture pillow-lace, and so
forth. They have been generally treated with kindness, especially
by the educated families in the settlements. It is pleasant to
have to record that I never heard of a deed of violence
perpetrated, on the one side or the other, in the dealings
between European settlers and this noble tribe of savages.

Very little is known of the original customs of the Passes. The
mode of life of our host Pedro-uassu did not differ much from
that of the civilised Mamelucos; but he and his people showed a
greater industry, and were more open, cheerful, and generous in
their dealings than many half-castes. The authority of Pedro,
like that of the Tushauas, generally was exercised in a mild
manner. These chieftains appear able to command the services of
their subjects, since they furnish men to the Brazilian
authorities when requested; but none of them, even those of the
most advanced tribes, appear to make use of this authority for
the accumulation of property-- the service being exacted chiefly
in time of war. Had the ambition of the chiefs of some of these
industrious tribes been turned to the acquisition of wealth,
probably we should have seen indigenous civilised nations in the
heart of South America similar to those found on the Andes of
Peru and Mexico. It is very probable that the Passes adopted from
the first to some extent the manners of the whites. Ribeiro, a
Portuguese official who travelled in these regions in 1774-5, and
wrote an account of his journey, relates that they buried their
dead in large earthenware vessels (a custom still observed among
other tribes on the Upper Amazons), and that, as to their
marriages, the young men earned their brides by valiant deeds in
war. He also states that they possessed a cosmogony in which the
belief that the sun was a fixed body, with the earth revolving
around it, was a prominent feature. He says, moreover, that they
believed in a Creator of all things; a future state of rewards
and punishments, and so forth. These notions are so far in
advance of the ideas of all other tribes of Indians, and so
little likely to have been conceived and perfected by a people
having no written language or leisured class, that we must
suppose them to have been derived by the docile Passes from some
early missionary or traveller. I never found that the Passes had
more curiosity or activity of intellect than other Indians. No
trace of a belief in a future state exists amongst Indians who
have not had much intercourse with the civilised settlers, and
even amongst those who have it is only a few of the more gifted
individuals who show any curiosity on the subject. Their sluggish
minds seem unable to conceive or feel the want of a theory of the
soul, and of the relations of man to the rest of Nature or to the
Creator. But is it not so with totally uneducated and isolated
people even in the most highly civilised parts of the world? The
good qualities of the Passes belong to the moral part of the
character: they lead a contented, unambitious, and friendly life,
a quiet, domestic, orderly existence, varied by occasional
drinking bouts and summer excursions. They are not so shrewd,
energetic, and masterful as the Mundurucus, but they are more
easily taught, because their disposition is more yielding than
that of the Mundurucus or any other tribe.

We started on our return to Ega at half-past four o'clock in the
afternoon. Our generous entertainers loaded us with presents.
There was scarcely room for us to sit in the canoe, as they had
sent down ten large bundles of sugar-cane, four baskets of
farinha, three cedar planks, a small hamper of coffee, and two
heavy bunches of bananas. After we were embarked, the old lady
came with a parting gift for me--a huge bowl of smoking hot
banana porridge. I was to eat it on the road "to keep my stomach
warm." Both stood on the bank as we pushed off, and gave us their
adios: "Ikudna Tupana eirum" (Go with God)-- a form of salutation
taught by the old Jesuit missionaries. We had a most
uncomfortable passage, for Cardozo was quite tipsy, and had not
attended to the loading of the boat. The cargo had been placed
too far forward, and to make matters worse, my heavy friend
obstinately insisted on sitting astride on the top of the pile,
instead of taking his place near the stern, singing from his
perch a most indecent love-song, and disregarding the
inconvenience of having to bend down almost every minute to pass
under the boughs of hanging sipos as we sped rapidly along. The
canoe leaked but not, at first, alarmingly. Long before sunset,
darkness began to close in under those gloomy shades, and our
steersman could not avoid now and then running the boat into the
thicket. The first time this happened a piece was broken off the
square prow (rodella); the second time we got squeezed between
two trees. A short time after this latter accident, being seated
near the stern with my feet on the bottom of the boat, I felt
rather suddenly the cold water above my ankles. A few minutes
more and we should have sunk, for a seam had been opened forward
under the pile of sugar-cane. Two of us began to bale, and by the
most strenuous efforts managed to keep afloat without throwing
overboard our cargo. The Indians were obliged to paddle with
extreme slowness to avoid shipping water, as the edge of our prow
was nearly level with the surface; but Cardozo was now persuaded
to change his seat. The sun set, the quick twilight passed, and
the moon soon after began to glimmer through the thick canopy of
foliage. The prospect of being swamped in this hideous solitude
was by no means pleasant, although I calculated on the chance of
swimming to a tree and finding a nice snug place in the fork of
some large bough wherein to pass the night.

At length, after four hours' tedious progress, we suddenly
emerged on the open stream where the moonlight glittered in broad
sheets on the gently rippling waters. A little extra care was now
required in paddling. The Indians plied their strokes with the
greatest nicety; the lights of Ega (the oil lamps in the houses)
soon appeared beyond the black wall of forest, and in a short
time we leapt safely ashore.

 A few months after the excursion just narrated, I accompanied
Cardozo in many wanderings on the Solimoens, during which he
visited the praias (sand-islands), the turtle pools in the
forests, and the by-streams and lakes of the great desert river.
His object was mainly to superintend the business of digging up
turtle eggs on the sandbanks, having been elected commandante for
the year by the municipal council of Ega, of the "praia real"
(royal sand-island) of Shimuni, the one lying nearest to Ega.
There are four of these royal praias within the Ega district (a
distance of 150 miles from the town), all of which are visited
annually by the Ega people for the purpose of collecting eggs and
extracting oil from their yolks Each has its commander, whose
business is to make arrangements for securing to every inhabitant
an equal chance in the egg harvest by placing sentinels to
protect the turtles whilst laying, and so forth. The pregnant
turtles descend from the interior pools to the main river in July
and August, before the outlets dry up, and then seek in countless
swarms their favourite sand islands; for it is only a few praias
that are selected by them out of the great number existing. The
young animals remain in the pools throughout the dry season.
These breeding places of turtles then lie twenty to thirty or
more feet above the level of the river, and are accessible only
by cutting roads through the dense forest.

We left Ega on our first trip to visit the sentinels while the
turtles were yet laying, on the 26th of September. Our canoe was
a stoutly built igarite, arranged for ten paddlers, and having a
large arched toldo at the stern under which three persons could
sleep pretty comfortably. Emerging from the Teffe we descended
rapidly on the swift current of the Solimoens to the south-
eastern or lower end of the large wooded island of Baria, which
here divides the river into two great channels. We then paddled
across to Shimuni, which lies in the middle of the northeasterly
channel, reaching the commencement of the praia an hour before
sunset. The island proper is about three miles long and half a
mile broad: the forest with which it is covered rises to an
immense and uniform height, and presents all round a compact,
impervious front. Here and there a singular tree, called Pao
mulatto (mulatto wood), with polished dark-green trunk, rose
conspicuously among the mass of vegetation. The sandbank, which
lies at the upper end of the island, extends several miles and
presents an irregular, and in some parts, strongly-waved surface,
with deep hollows and ridges. When upon it, one feels as though
treading an almost boundless field of sand, for towards the
southeast, where no forest line terminates the view, the white,
rolling plain stretches away to the horizon. The north-easterly
channel of the river lying between the sands and the further
shore of the river is at least two miles in breadth; the middle
one, between the two islands, Shimuni and Baria, is not much less
than a mile.

We found the two sentinels lodged in a corner of the praia, where
it commences at the foot of the towering forest wall of the
island, having built for themselves a little rancho with poles
and palm-leaves. Great precautions are obliged to be taken to
avoid disturbing the sensitive turtles, who, previous to crawling
ashore to lay, assemble in great shoals off the sandbank. The
men, during this time, take care not to show themselves and warn
off any fishermen who wishes to pass near the place. Their fires
are made in a deep hollow near the borders of the forest, so that
the smoke may not be visible. The passage of a boat through the
shallow waters where the animals are congregated, or the sight of
a man or a fire on the sandbank, would prevent the turtles from
leaving the water that night to lay their eggs, and if the causes
of alarm were repeated once or twice, they would forsake the
praia for some other quieter place. Soon after we arrived, our
men were sent with the net to catch a supply of fish for supper.
In half an hour, four or five large basketsful of Acari were
brought in. The sun set soon after our meal was cooked; we were
then obliged to extinguish the fire and remove our supper
materials to the sleeping ground, a spit of sand about a mile
off-- this course being necessary on account of the mosquitoes
which swarm at night on the borders of the forest.

One of the sentinels was a taciturn, morose-looking, but sober
and honest Indian, named Daniel; the other was a noted character
of Ega, a little wiry Mameluco, named Carepira (Fish-hawk)--
known for his waggery, propensity for strong drink, and
indebtedness to Ega traders. Both were intrepid canoemen and
huntsmen, and both perfectly at home anywhere in these fearful
wastes of forest and water. Carepira had his son with him-- a
quiet little lad of about nine years of age. These men in a few
minutes constructed a small shed with four upright poles and
leaves of the arrow-grass, under which Cardozo and I slung our
hammocks. We did not go to sleep, however, until after midnight--
for when supper was over, we lay about on the sand with a flask
of rum in our midst and whiled away the still hours in listening
to Carepira's stories.

I rose from my hammock by daylight, shivering with cold; a praia,
on account of the great radiation of heat in the night from the
sand, being towards the dawn the coldest place that can be found
in this climate. Cardozo and the men were already up watching the
turtles. The sentinels had erected for this purpose a stage about
fifty feet high, on a tall tree near their station, the ascent to
which was by a roughly-made ladder of woody lianas. They are
enabled, by observing the turtles from this watchtower, to
ascertain the date of successive deposits of eggs, and thus guide
the commandante in fixing the time for the general invitation to
the Ega people. The turtles lay their eggs by night, leaving the
water when nothing disturbs them, in vast crowds, and crawling to
the central and highest part of the praia. These places are, of
course, the last to go under water when, in unusually wet
seasons, the river rises before the eggs are hatched by the heat
of the sand. One could almost believe from this that the animals
used forethought in choosing a place; but it is simply one of
those many instances in animals where unconscious habit has the
same result as conscious prevision. The hours between midnight
and dawn are the busiest. The turtles excavate with their broad,
webbed paws, deep holes in the fine sand-- the first corner, in
each case, making a pit about three feet deep, laying its eggs
(about 120 in number) and covering them with sand; the next
making its deposit at the top of that of its predecessor, and so
on until every pit is full. The whole body of turtles frequenting
a praia does not finish laying in less than fourteen or fifteen
days, even when there is no interruption. When all have done, the
area (called by the Brazilians taboleiro) over which they have
excavated is distinguishable from the rest of the praia only by
signs of the sand having been a little disturbed.

On rising, I went to join my friends. Few recollections of my
Amazonian rambles are more vivid and agreeable than that of my
walk over the white sea of sand on this cool morning. The sky was
cloudless; the just-risen sun was hidden behind the dark mass of
woods on Shimuni, but the long line of forest to the west, on
Baria, with its plumy decorations of palms, was lighted up with
his yellow, horizontal rays. A faint chorus of singing birds
reached the ears from across the water, and flocks of gulls and
plovers were drying plaintively over the swelling banks of the
praia, where their eggs lay in nests made in little hollows of
the sand. Tracks of stray turtles were visible on the smooth
white surface of the praia. The animals which thus wander from
the main body are lawful prizes of the sentinels; they had caught
in this way two before sunrise, one of which we had for dinner.
In my walk I disturbed several pairs of the chocolate and drab-
 wild-goose (Anser jubatus) which set off to run along
the edge of the water. The enjoyment one feels in rambling over
these free, open spaces, is no doubt enhanced by the novelty of
the scene, the change being very great from the monotonous
landscape of forest which everywhere else presents itself.

On arriving at the edge of the forest I mounted the sentinel's
stage, just in time to see the turtles retreating to the water on
the opposite side of the sand-bank, after having laid their eggs.
The sight was well worth the trouble of ascending the shaky
ladder. They were about a mile off, but the surface of the sands
was blackened with the multitudes which were waddling towards the
river; the margin of the praia was rather steep, and they all
seemed to tumble head first down the declivity into the water.

I spent the morning of the 27th collecting insects in the woods
of Shimuni; and assisted my friend in the afternoon to beat a
large pool for Tracajas-- Cardozo wishing to obtain a supply for
his table at home. The pool was nearly a mile long, and lay on
one side of the island between the forest and the sand-bank. The
sands are heaped up very curiously around the margins of these
isolated sheets of water; in the present case they formed a
steeply-inclined bank, from five to eight feet in height. What
may be the cause of this formation I cannot imagine. The pools
always contain a quantity of imprisoned fish, turtles, Tracajas,
and Aiyussas. [Specimens of this species of turtle are named in
the British Museum collection, Podocnemis expansa.] The turtles
and Aiyussas crawl out voluntarily in the course of a few days,
and escape to the main river, but the Tracajas remain and become
an easy prey to the natives. The ordinary mode of obtaining them
is to whip the water in every part with rods for several hours
during the day; this treatment having the effect of driving the
animals out. They wait, however, until the night following the
beating before making their exit. Our Indians were occupied for
many hours in this work, and when night came they and the
sentinels were placed at intervals along the edge of the water to
be ready to capture the runaways. Cardozo and I, after supper,
went and took our station at one end of the pool.

We did not succeed, after all our trouble, in getting many
Tracajas. This was partly owing to the intense darkness of the
night, and partly, doubtless, to the sentinels having already
nearly exhausted the pool, notwithstanding their declarations to
the contrary. In waiting for the animals, it was necessary to
keep silence-- not a pleasant way of passing the night...
speaking only in whispers, and being without fire in a place
liable to be visited by a prowling jaguar. Cardozo and I sat on a
sandy <DW72> with our loaded guns by our side, but it was so dark
we could scarcely see each other. Towards midnight a storm began
to gather around us. The faint wind which had breathed from over
the water since the sun went down, ceased. thick clouds piled
themselves up, until every star was obscured, and gleams of
watery lightning began to play in the midst of the black masses.
I hinted to Cardozo that I thought we had now had enough of
watching, and suggested a cigarette. Just then a quick pattering
movement was heard on the sands, and grasping our guns, we both
started to our feet. Whatever it might have been it seemed to
pass by, and a few moments afterwards a dark body appeared to be
moving in another direction on the opposite <DW72> of the sandy
ravine where we lay. We prepared to fire, but luckily took the
precaution of first shouting "Quem vai la?" (Who goes there?) It
turned out to be the taciturn sentinel, Daniel, who asked us
mildly whether we had heard a "raposa" pass our way. The raposa
is a kind of wild dog, with very long tapering muzzle, and black
and white speckled hair. Daniel could distinguish all kinds of
animals in the dark by their footsteps. It now began to thunder,
and our position was getting very uncomfortable. Daniel had not
seen anything of the other Indians, and thought it was useless
waiting any longer for Tracajas; we therefore sent him to call in
the whole party, and made off ourselves, as quickly as we could,
for the canoe. The rest of the night was passed most miserably;
as indeed were very many of my nights on the Solimoens. A furious
squall burst upon us; the wind blew away the cloths and mats we
had fixed up at the ends of the arched awning of the canoe to
shelter ourselves, and the rain beat right through our sleeping-
place. There we lay, Cardozo and I, huddled together, and wet
through, waiting for the morning.

A cup of strong and hot coffee put us to rights at sunrise, but
the rain was still coming down, having changed to a steady
drizzle. Our men were all returned from the pool, having taken
only four Tracajas. The business which had brought Cardozo hither
being now finished, we set out to return to Ega, leaving the
sentinels once more to their solitude on the sands. Our return
route was by the rarely frequented north-easterly channel of the
Solimoens, through which flows part of the waters of its great
tributary stream, the Japura. We travelled for five hours along
the desolate, broken, timber-strewn shore of Baria. The channel
is of immense breadth, the opposite coast being visible only as a
long, low line of forest. At three o'clock in the afternoon we
doubled the upper end of the island, and then crossed towards the
mouth of the Teffe by a broad transverse channel running between
Baria and another island called Quanaru. There is a small sand-
bank at the north-westerly point of Baria, called Jacare; we
stayed here to dine and afterwards fished with the net. A fine
rain was still falling, and we had capital sport-- in three hauls
taking more fish than our canoe would conveniently hold. They
were of two kinds only, the Surubim and the Piraepieua (species
of Pimelodus), very handsome fishes, four feet in length, with
flat spoon-shaped heads, and prettily-spotted and striped skins.

On our way from Jacare to the mouth of the Teffe we had a little
adventure with a black tiger or jaguar. We were paddling rapidly
past a long beach of dried mud, when the Indians became suddenly
excited, shouting "Ecui Jauarete; Jauaripixuna!" (Behold the
jaguar, the black jaguar!) Looking ahead we saw the animal
quietly drinking at the water's edge. Cardozo ordered the
steersman at once to put us ashore. By the time we were landed
the tiger had seen us, and was retracing his steps towards the
forest. On the spur of the moment, and without thinking of what
we were doing, we took our guns (mine was a double-barrel, with
one charge of B B and one of dust-shot) and gave chase. The
animal increased his speed, and reaching the forest border, dived
into the dense mass of broad-leaved grass which formed its
frontage. We peeped through the gap he had made, but, our courage
being by this time cooled, we did not think it wise to go into
the thicket after him. The black tiger appears to be more
abundant than the spotted form of jaguar in the neighbourhood of
Ega. The most certain method of finding it is to hunt assisted by
a string of Indians shouting and driving the game before them in
the narrow restingas or strips of dry land in the forest, which
are isolated by the flooding of their neighbourhood in the wet
season. We reached Ega by eight o'clock that night.

On the 6th of October we left Ega on a second excursion; the
principal object of Cardozo being, this time, to search certain
pools in the forest for young turtles. The exact situation of
these hidden sheets of water is known only to a few practised
huntsmen; we took one of these men with us from Ega, a Mameluco
named Pedro, and on our way called at Shimuni for Daniel to serve
as an additional guide. We started from the praia at sunrise on
the 7th in two canoes containing twenty-three persons, nineteen
of whom were Indians. The morning was cloudy and cool, and a
fresh wind blew from down river, against which we had to struggle
with all the force of our paddles, aided by the current; the
boats were tossed about most disagreeably, and shipped a great
deal of water. On passing the lower end of Shimuni, a long reach
of the river was before us, undivided by islands-- a magnificent
expanse of water stretching away to the southeast. The country on
the left bank is not, however, terra firma, but a portion of the
alluvial land which forms the extensive and complex delta region
of the Japura. It is flooded every year at the time of high
water, and is traversed by many narrow and deep channels which
serve as outlets to the Japura, or at least, are connected with
that river by means of the interior water-system of the Cupiyo.
This inhospitable tract of country extends for several hundred
miles, and contains in its midst an endless number of pools and
lakes tenanted by multitudes of turtles, fishes, alligators, and
water serpents. Our destination was a point on this coast
situated about twenty miles below Shimuni, and a short distance
from the mouth of the Anana, one of the channels just alluded to
as connected with the Japura. After travelling for three hours in
midstream we steered for the land, and brought to under a
steeply-inclined bank of crumbly earth, shaped into a succession
of steps or terraces, marking the various halts which the waters
of the river make in the course of subsidence. The coast line was
nearly straight for many miles, and the bank averaged about
thirty feet in height above the present level of the river: at
the top rose the unbroken hedge of forest. No one could have
divined that pools of water existed on that elevated land. A
narrow level space extended at the foot of the bank. On landing
the first business was to get breakfast. While a couple of Indian
lads were employed in making the fire, roasting the fish, and
boiling the coffee, the rest of the party mounted the bank, and
with their long hunting knives commenced cutting a path through
the forest; the pool, called the Aningal, being about half a mile
distant. After breakfast, a great number of short poles were cut
and were laid crosswise on the path, and then three light
montarias which we had brought with us were dragged up the bank
by lianas, and rolled away to be embarked on the pool. A large
net, seventy yards in length, was then disembarked and carried to
the place. The work was done very speedily, and when Cardozo and
I went to the spot at eleven o'clock, we found some of the older
Indians, including Pedro and Daniel, had begun their sport. They
were mounted on little stages called moutas, made of poles and
cross-pieces of wood secured with lianas, and were shooting the
turtles as they came near the surface, with bows and arrows. The
Indians seemed to think that netting the animals, as Cardozo
proposed doing, was not lawful sport, and wished first to have an
hour or two's old-fashioned practice with their weapons.

The pool covered an area of about four or five acres, and was
closely hemmed in by the forest, which in picturesque variety and
grouping of trees and foliage exceeded almost everything I had
yet witnessed. The margins for some distance were swampy, and
covered with large tufts of a fine grass called Matupa. These
tufts in many places were overrun with ferns, and exterior to
them a crowded row of arborescent arums, growing to a height of
fifteen or twenty feet, formed a green palisade. Around the whole
stood the taller forest trees; palmate-leaved Cecropiae slender
Assai palms, thirty feet high, with their thin feathery heads
crowning the gently-curving, smooth stems; small fan-leaved
palms; and as a background to all these airy shapes, lay the
voluminous masses of ordinary forest trees, with garlands,
festoons, and streamers of leafy climbers hanging from their
branches. The pool was nowhere more than five feet deep, one foot
of which was not water, but extremely fine and soft mud.

Cardozo and I spent an hour paddling about. I was astonished at
the skill which the Indians display in shooting turtles. They did
not wait for their coming to the surface to breathe, but watched
for the slight movements in the water, which revealed their
presence underneath. These little tracks on the water are called
the Siriri; the instant one was perceived an arrow flew from the
bow of the nearest man, and never failed to pierce the shell of
the submerged animal. When the turtle was very distant, of course
the aim had to be taken at a considerable elevation, but the
marksmen preferred a longish range, because the arrow then fell
more perpendicularly on the shell and entered it more deeply.

The arrow used in turtle shooting has a strong lancet-shaped
steel point, fitted into a peg which enters the tip of the shaft.
The peg is secured to the shaft by twine made of the fibres of
pineapple leaves, the twine being some thirty or forty yards in
length, and neatly wound round the body of the arrow. When the
missile enters the shell, the peg drops out, and the pierced
animal descends with it towards the bottom, leaving the shaft
floating on the surface. This being done, the sportsman paddles
in his montaria to the place, and gently draws the animal by the
twine, humouring it by giving it the rein when it plunges, until
it is brought again near the surface, when he strikes it with a
second arrow. With the increased hold given by the two cords he
has then no difficulty in landing his game.

By mid-day the men had shot about a score of nearly full-grown
turtles. Cardozo then gave orders to spread the net. The spongy,
swampy nature of the banks made it impossible to work the net so
as to draw the booty ashore; another method was therefore
adopted. The net was taken by two Indians and extended in a curve
at one extremity of the oval-shaped pool, holding it when they
had done so by the perpendicular rods fixed at each end; its
breadth was about equal to the depth of the water, its shotted
side therefore rested on the bottom, while the floats buoyed it
up on the surface, so that the whole, when the ends were brought
together, would form a complete trap. The rest of the party then
spread themselves around the swamp at the opposite end of the
pool and began to beat, with stout poles, the thick tufts of
Matupa, in order to drive the turtles towards the middle. This
was continued for an hour or more, the beaters gradually drawing
nearer to each other, and driving the host of animals before
them; the number of little snouts constantly popping above the
surface of the water showing that all was going on well. When
they neared the net the men moved more quickly, shouting and
beating with great vigour. The ends of the net were then seized
by several strong hands and dragged suddenly forwards, bringing
them at the same time together, so as to enclose all the booty in
a circle. Every man now leapt into the enclosure, the boats were
brought up, and the turtles easily captured by the hand and
tossed into them. I jumped in along with the rest, although I had
just before made the discovery that the pool abounded in ugly,
red, four-angled leeches, having seen several of these delectable
animals, which sometimes fasten on the legs of fishermen,
although they, did not, on this day, trouble us, working their
way through cracks in the bottom of our montaria. Cardozo, who
remained with the boats, could not turn the animals on their
backs fast enough, so that a great many clambered out and got
free again. However, three boat-loads, or about eighty, were
secured in about twenty minutes. They were then taken ashore, and
each one secured by the men tying the legs with thongs of bast.

When the canoes had been twice filled, we desisted, after a very
hard day's work. Nearly all the animals were young ones, chiefly,
according to the statement of Pedro, from three to ten years of
age; they varied from six to eighteen inches in length, and were
very fat. Cardozo and I lived almost exclusively on them for
several months afterwards. Roasted in the shell they form a most
appetising dish. These younger turtles never migrate with their
elders on the sinking of the waters, but remain in the tepid
pools, fattening on fallen fruits, and, according to the natives,
on the fine nutritious mud. We captured a few full-grown
motherturtles, which were known at once by the horny skin of
their breast-plates being worn, telling of their having crawled
on the sands to lay eggs the previous year. They had evidently
made a mistake in not leaving the pool at the proper time, for
they were full of eggs, which, we were told, they would, before
the season was over, scatter in despair over the swamp. We also
found several male turtles, or Capitaris, as they are called by
the natives. These are immensely less numerous than the females,
and are distinguishable by their much smaller size, more circular
shape, and the greater length and thickness of their tails. Their
flesh is considered unwholesome, especially to sick people having
external signs of inflammation. All diseases in these parts, as
well as their remedies and all articles of food, are classed by
the inhabitants as "hot" and "cold," and the meat of the Capitari
is settled by unanimous consent as belonging to the "hot" list.

We dined on the banks of the river a little before sunset. The
mosquitoes then began to be troublesome, and finding it would be
impossible to sleep here, we all embarked and crossed the river
to a sand-bank, about three miles distant, where we passed the
night. Cardozo and I slept in our hammocks slung between upright
poles, the rest stretching themselves on the sand round a large
fire. We lay awake conversing until past midnight. It was a real
pleasure to listen to the stories told by one of the older men,
they were given with so much spirit. The tales always related to
struggles with some intractable animal-jaguar, manatee, or
alligator. Many interjections and expressive gestures were used,
and at the end came a sudden "Pa! terra!" when the animal was
vanquished by a shot or a blow. Many mysterious tales were
recounted about the Bouto, as the large Dolphin of the Amazons is
called. One of them was to the effect that a Bouto once had the
habit of assuming the shape of a beautiful woman, with hair
hanging loose to her heels, and walking ashore at night in the
streets of Ega, to entice the young men down to the water. If any
one was so much smitten as to follow her to the waterside, she
grasped her victim round the waist and plunged beneath the waves
with a triumphant cry. No animal in the Amazons region is the
subject of so many fables as the Bouto; but it is probable these
did not originate with the Indians, but with the Portuguese
colonists. It was several years before I could induce a fisherman
to harpoon Dolphins for me as specimens, for no one ever kills
these animals voluntarily, although their fat is known to yield
an excellent oil for lamps. The superstitious people believe that
blindness would result from the use of this oil in lamps. I
succeeded at length with Carepira, by offering him a high reward
when his finances were at a very low point, but he repented of
his deed ever afterwards, declaring that his luck had forsaken
him from that day.

The next morning we again beat the pool. Although we had proof of
there being a great number of turtles yet remaining, we had very
poor success. The old Indians told us it would be so, for the
turtles were "ladino" (cunning), and would take no notice of the
beating a second day. When the net was formed into a circle, and
the men had jumped in, an alligator was found to be inclosed. No
one was alarmed, the only fear expressed being that the
imprisoned beast would tear the net. First one shouted, "I have
touched his head;" then another, "he has scratched my leg;" one
of the men, a lanky Miranha, was thrown off his balance, and then
there was no end to the laughter and shouting. At last a youth of
about fourteen years of age, on my calling to him from the bank
to do so, seized the reptile by the tail, and held him tightly
until, a little resistance being overcome, he was able to bring
it ashore. The net was opened, and the boy slowly dragged the
dangerous but cowardly beast to land through the muddy water, a
distance of about a hundred yards. Meantime, I had cut a strong
pole from a tree, and as soon as the alligator was drawn to solid
ground, gave him a smart rap with it on the crown of his head,
which killed him instantly. It was a good-sized individual, the
jaws being considerably more than a foot long, and fully capable
of snapping a man's leg in twain. The species was the large
cayman, the Jacareuassu of the Amazonian Indians (Jacare nigra).

On the third day, we sent our men in the boats to net turtles in
a larger pool about five miles further down the river, and on the
fourth, returned to Ega.

It will be well to mention here a few circumstances relative to
the large Cayman, which, with the incident just narrated, afford
illustrations of the cunning, cowardice, and ferocity of this
reptile.

I have hitherto had but few occasions of mentioning alligators,
although they exist by myriads in the waters of the Upper
Amazons. Many different species are spoken of by the natives. I
saw only three, and of these two only are common: one, the
Jacare-tinga, a small kind (five feet long when full grown),
having a long slender muzzle and a black-banded tail; the other,
the Jacare-uassu, to which these remarks more especially relate
and the third the Jacare-curua, mentioned in a former chapter.
The Jacare-uassu, or large Cayman, grows to a length of eighteen
or twenty feet, and attains an enormous bulk. Like the turtles,
the alligator has its annual migrations, for it retreats to the
interior pools and flooded forests in the wet season, and
descends to the main river in the dry season. During the months
of high water, therefore, scarcely a single individual is to be
seen in the main river. In the middle part of the Lower Amazons,
about Obydos and Villa Nova, where many of the lakes with their
channels of communication with the trunk stream dry up in the
fine months, the alligator buries itself in the mud and becomes
dormant, sleeping till the rainy season returns. On the Upper
Amazons, where the dry season is never excessive, it has not this
habit, but is lively all the year round. It is scarcely
exaggerating to say that the waters of the Solimoens are as well
stocked with large alligators in the dry season, as a ditch in
England is in summer with tadpoles. During a journey of five days
which I once made in the Upper Amazons steamer, in November,
alligators were seen along the coast almost every step of the
way, and the passengers amused themselves, from morning till
night, by firing at them with rifle and ball. They were very
numerous in the still bays, where the huddled crowds jostled
together, to the great rattling of their coats of mail, as the
steamer passed.

The natives at once despise and fear the great cayman. I once
spent a month at Caicara, a small village of semi-civilised
Indians, about twenty miles to the west of Ega. My entertainer,
the only white in the place, and one of my best and most constant
friends, Senor Innocencio Alves Faria, one day proposed a half-
day's fishing with net in the lake--the expanded bed of the small
river on which the village is situated. We set out in an open
boat with six Indians and two of Innocencio's children. The water
had sunk so low that the net had to be taken out into the middle
by the Indians, whence at the first draught, two medium-sized
alligators were brought to land. They were disengaged from the
net and allowed, with the coolest unconcern, to return to the
water, although the two children were playing in it not many
yards off. We continued fishing, Innocencio and I lending a
helping hand, and each time drew a number of the reptiles of
different ages and sizes, some of them Jacare-tingas; the lake,
in fact, swarmed with alligators. After taking a very large
quantity of fish, we prepared to return, and the Indians, at my
suggestion, secured one of the alligators with the view of
letting it loose amongst the swarms of dogs in the village. An
individual was selected about eight feet long-- one man holding
his head and another his tail, whilst a third took a few lengths
of a flexible liana, and deliberately bound the jaws and the
legs. Thus secured, the beast was laid across the benches of the
boat on which we sat during the hour and a half's journey to the
settlement. We were rather crowded, but our amiable passenger
gave us no trouble during the transit. On reaching the village,
we took the animal into the middle of the green, in front of the
church, where the dogs were congregated, and there gave him his
liberty, two of us arming ourselves with long poles to intercept
him if he should make for the water, and the others exciting the
dogs. The alligator showed great terror, although the dogs could
not be made to advance, and made off at the top of its speed for
the water, waddling like a duck. We tried to keep him back with
the poles, but he became enraged, and seizing the end of the one
I held in his jaws, nearly wrenched it from my grasp. We were
obliged, at length, to kill him to prevent his escape.

These little incidents show the timidity or cowardice of the
alligator. He never attacks man when his intended victim is on
his guard; but he is cunning enough to know when this may be done
with impunity-- of this we had proof at Caicara, a few days
afterwards. The river had sunk to a very low point, so that the
port and bathing-place of the village now lay at the foot of a
long sloping bank, and a large cayman made his appearance in the
shallow and muddy water. We were all obliged to be very careful
in taking our bath; most of the people simply using a calabash,
pouring the water over themselves while standing on the brink. A
large trading canoe, belonging to a Barra merchant named Soares,
arrived at this time, and the Indian crew, as usual, spent the
first day or two after their coming into port in drunkenness and
debauchery ashore. One of the men, during the greatest heat of
the day, when almost everyone was enjoying his afternoon's nap,
took it into his head while in a tipsy state to go down alone to
bathe. He was seen only by the Juiz de Paz, a feeble old man who
was lying in his hammock in the open verandah at the rear of his
house on the top of the bank, and who shouted to the besotted
Indian to beware of the alligator. Before he could repeat his
warning, the man stumbled, and a pair of gaping jaws, appearing
suddenly above the surface, seized him round the waist and drew
him under the water. A cry of agony "Ai Jesus!" was the last sign
made by the wretched victim. The village was aroused: the young
men with praiseworthy readiness seized their harpoons and hurried
down to the bank; but, of course it was too late, a winding track
of blood on the surface of the water was all that could be seen.
They embarked, however, in montarias, determined upon vengeance;
the monster was traced, and when, after a short lapse of time, he
came up to breathe--one leg of the man sticking out from his
jaws--was despatched with bitter curses.

The last of these minor excursions which I shall narrate, was
made (again in company of Senor Cardozo, with the addition of his
housekeeper Senora Felippa) in the season when all the population
of the villages turns out to dig up turtle eggs, and revel on the
praias. Placards were posted on the church doors at Ega,
announcing that the excavation on Shimuni would commence on the
17th of October, and on Catua, sixty miles below Shimuni, on the
25th. We set out on the 16th, and passed on the road, in our
well-manned igarite, a large number of people-- men, women, and
children in canoes of all sizes-- wending their way as if to a
great holiday gathering. By the morning of the 17th, some 400
persons were assembled on the borders of the sand-bank; each
family having erected a rude temporary shed of poles and palm
leaves to protect themselves from the sun and rain. Large copper
kettles to prepare the oil, and hundreds of red earthenware jars,
were scattered about on the sand.

The excavation of the taboleiro, collecting the eggs and
purifying the oil, occupied four days. All was done on a system
established by the old Portuguese governors, probably more than a
century ago. The commandante first took down the names of all the
masters of households, with the number of persons each intended
to employ in digging; he then exacted a payment of 140 reis
(about fourpence) a head, towards defraying the expense of
sentinels. The whole were then allowed to go to the taboleiro.
They arranged themselves around the circle, each person armed
with a paddle to be used as a spade, and then all began
simultaneously to dig on a signal being given--the roll of drums-
-by order of the commandante. It was an animating sight to behold
the wide circle of rival diggers throwing up clouds of sand in
their energetic labours, and working gradually towards the centre
of the ring. A little rest was taken during the great heat of
midday, and in the evening the eggs were carried to the huts in
baskets. By the end of the second day, the taboleiro was
exhausted; large mounds of eggs, some of them four to five feet
in height, were then seen by the side of each hut, the produce of
the labours of the family.

In the hurry of digging, some of the deeper nests are passed
over; to find these out, the people go about provided with a long
steel or wooden probe, the presence of the eggs being
discoverable by the ease with which the spit enters the sand.
When no more eggs are to be found, the mashing process begins.
The egg, it may be mentioned, has a flexible or leathery shell;
it is quite round, and somewhat larger than a hen's egg. The
whole heap is thrown into an empty canoe and mashed with wooden
prongs; but sometimes naked Indians and children jump into the
mass and tread it down, besmearing themselves with yolk and
making about as filthy a scene as can well be imagined. This
being finished, water is poured into the canoe, and the fatty
mess then left for a few hours to be heated by the sun, on which
the oil separates and rises to the surface. The floating oil is
afterwards skimmed off with long spoons, made by tying large
mussel-shells to the end of rods, and purified over the fire in
copper kettles.

The destruction of turtle eggs every year by these proceedings is
enormous. At least 6000 jars, holding each three gallons of the
oil, are exported annually from the Upper Amazons and the Madeira
to Para, where it is used for lighting, frying fish, and other
purposes. It may be fairly estimated that 2000 more jars-full are
consumed by the inhabitants of the villages on the river. Now, it
takes at least twelve basketsful of eggs, or about 6000 by the
wasteful process followed, to make one jar of oil. The total
number of eggs annually destroyed amounts, therefore, to
48,000,000. As each turtle lays about 120, it follows that the
yearly offspring Of 400,000 turtles is thus annihilated. A vast
number, nevertheless, remain undetected; and these would probably
be sufficient to keep the turtle population of these rivers up to
the mark, if the people did not follow the wasteful practice of
lying in wait for the newly-hatched young, and collecting them by
thousands for eating-- their tender flesh and the remains of yolk
in their entrails being considered a great delicacy. The chief
natural enemies of the turtle are vultures and alligators, which
devour the newly-hatched young as they descend in shoals to the
water. These must have destroyed an immensely greater number
before the European settlers began to appropriate the eggs than
they do now. It is almost doubtful if this natural persecution
did not act as effectively in checking the increase of the turtle
as the artificial destruction now does. If we are to believe the
tradition of the Indians, however, it had not this result; for
they say that formerly the waters teemed as thickly with turtles
as the air now does with mosquitoes. The universal opinion of the
settlers on the Upper Amazons is, that the turtle has very
greatly decreased in numbers, and is still annually decreasing.

We left Shimuni on the 20th with quite a flotilla of canoes, and
descended the river to Catua, an eleven hours' journey by paddle
and current. Catua is about six miles long, and almost entirely
encircled by its praia. The turtles had selected for their egg-
laying a part of the sand-bank which was elevated at least twenty
feet above the present level of the river; the animals, to reach
the place, must have crawled up a <DW72>. As we approached the
island, numbers of the animals were seen coming to the surface to
breathe, in a small shoaly bay. Those who had light montarias
sped forward with bows and arrows to shoot them. Carepira was
foremost, having borrowed a small and very unsteady boat, of
Cardozo, and embarked in it with his little son. After bagging a
couple of turtles, and while hauling in a third, he overbalanced
himself; the canoe went over, and he with his child had to swim
for their lives in the midst of numerous alligators, about a mile
from the land. The old man had to sustain a heavy fire of jokes
from his companions for several days after this mishap. Such
accidents are only laughed at by this almost amphibious people.

The number of persons congregated on Catua was much greater than
on Shimuni, as the population of the banks of several
neighbouring lakes were here added. The line of huts and sheds
extended half a mile, and several large sailing vessels were
anchored at the place. The commandante was Senor Macedo, the
Indian blacksmith of Ega before mentioned, who maintained
excellent order during the fourteen days the process of
excavation and oil manufacture lasted. There were also many
primitive Indians here from the neighbouring rivers, among them a
family of Shumanas, good-tempered, harmless people from the Lower
Japura. All of them were tattooed around the mouth, the bluish
tint forming a border to the lips, and extending in a line on the
cheeks towards the ear on each side. They were not quite so
slender in figure as the Passes of Perdo-uassu's family; but
their features deviated quite as much as those of the Passes from
the ordinary Indian type. This was seen chiefly in the
comparatively small mouth, pointed chin, thin lips, and narrow,
high nose. One of the daughters, a young girl of about seventeen
years of age, was a real beauty. The colour of her skin
approached the light tanned shade of the Mameluco women; her
figure was almost faultless, and the blue mouth, instead of being
a disfigurement, gave quite a captivating finish to her
appearance. Her neck, wrists, and ankles were adorned with
strings of blue beads. She was, however, extremely bashful, never
venturing to look strangers in the face, and never quitting, for
many minutes together, the side of her father and mother. The
family had been shamefully swindled by some rascally trader on
another praia; and, on our arrival, came to lay their case before
Senor Cardozo, as the delegado of police of the district. The
mild way in which the old man, without a trace of anger, stated
his complaint in imperfect Tupi quite enlisted our sympathies in
his favour. But Cardozo could give him no redress; he invited the
family, however, to make their rancho near to ours, and in the
end gave them the highest price for the surplus oil which they
manufactured.

It was not all work at Catua; indeed there was rather more play
than work going on. The people make a kind of holiday of these
occasions. Every fine night parties of the younger people
assembled on the sands, and dancing and games were carried on for
hours together. But the requisite liveliness for these sports was
never got up without a good deal of preliminary rum-drinking. The
girls were so coy that the young men could not get sufficient
partners for the dances without first subscribing for a few
flagons of the needful cashaca. The coldness of the shy Indian
and Mameluco maidens never failed to give way after a little of
this strong drink, but it was astonishing what an immense deal
they could take of it in the course of an evening. Coyness is not
always a sign of innocence in these people, for most of the half-
caste women on the Upper Amazons lead a little career of
looseness before they marry and settle down for life; and it is
rather remarkable that the men do not seem to object much to
their brides having had a child or two by various fathers before
marriage. The women do not lose reputation unless they become
utterly depraved, but in that case they are condemned pretty
strongly by public opinion. Depravity is, however, rare, for all
require more or less to be wooed before they are won. I did not
see (although I mixed pretty freely with the young people) any
breach of propriety on the praias. The merry-makings were carried
on near the ranchos, where the more staid citizens of Ega,
husbands with their wives and young daughters, all smoking
gravely out of long pipes, sat in their hammocks and enjoyed the
fun. Towards midnight we often heard, in the intervals between
jokes and laughter, the hoarse roar of jaguars prowling about the
jungle in the middle of the praia. There were several guitar-
players among the young men, and one most persevering fiddler--
so there was no lack of music.

The favourite sport was the Pira-purasseya, or fish-dance, one of
the original games of the Indians, though now probably a little
modified. The young men and women, mingling together, formed a
ring, leaving one of their number in the middle, who represented
the fish. They then all marched round, Indian file, the musicians
mixed up with the rest, singing a monotonous but rather pretty
chorus, the words of which were invented (under a certain form)
by one of the party who acted as leader. This finished, all
joined hands, and questions were put to the one in the middle,
asking what kind of fish he or she might be. To these the
individual has to reply. The end of it all is that he makes a
rush at the ring, and if he succeeds in escaping, the person who
allowed him to do so has to take his place; the march and chorus
then recommences, and so the game goes on hour after hour. Tupi
was the language mostly used, but sometimes Portuguese was sung
and spoken. The details of the dance were often varied. Instead
of the names of fishes being called over by the person in the
middle, the name of some animal, flower, or other object was
given to every fresh occupier of the place. There was then good
scope for wit in the invention of nicknames, and peals of
laughter would often salute some particularly good hit. Thus a
very lanky young man was called the Magoary, or the grey stork; a
moist grey-eyed man with a profile comically suggestive of a fish
was christened Jaraki (a kind of fish), which was considered
quite a witty sally; a little Mameluco girl, with light-
eyes and brown hair, got the gallant name of Rosa Blanca, or the
white rose; a young fellow who had recently singed his eye brows
by the explosion of fireworks, was dubbed Pedro queimado (burnt
Peter); in short every one got a nickname, and each time the
cognomen was introduced into the chorus as the circle marched
round.

Our rancho was a large one, and was erected in a line with the
others near the edge of the sand-bank which sloped rather
abruptly to the water. During the first week the people were all,
more or less, troubled by alligators. Some half-dozen full-grown
ones were in attendance off the praia, floating about on the
lazily-flowing, muddy water. The dryness of the weather had
increased since we had left Shimuni, the currents had slackened,
and the heat in the middle part of the day was almost
insupportable. But no one could descend to bathe without being
advanced upon by one or other of these hungry monsters. There was
much offal cast into the river, and this, of course, attracted
them to the place. One day I amused myself by taking a basketful
of fragments of meat beyond the line of ranchos, and drawing the
alligators towards me by feeding them. They behaved pretty much
as dogs do when fed-- catching the bones I threw them in their
huge jaws, and coming nearer and showing increased eagerness
after every morsel. The enormous gape of their mouths, with their
blood-red lining and long fringes of teeth, and the uncouth
shapes of their bodies, made a picture of unsurpassable ugliness.
I once or twice fired a heavy charge of shot at them, aiming at
the vulnerable part of their bodies, which is a small space
situated behind the eyes, but this had no other effect than to
make them give a hoarse grunt and shake themselves; they
immediately afterwards turned to receive another bone which I
threw to them.

Everyday these visitors became bolder; at length they reached a
pitch of impudence that was quite intolerable. Cardozo had a
poodle dog named Carlito, which some grateful traveller whom he
had befriended had sent him from Rio Janeiro. He took great pride
in this dog, keeping it well sheared, and preserving his coat as
white as soap and water could make it. We slept in our rancho in
hammocks slung between the outer posts; a large wood fire (fed
with a kind of wood abundant on the banks of the river, which
keeps alight all night) being made in the middle, by the side of
which slept Carlito on a little mat. Well, one night I was awoke
by a great uproar. It was caused by Cardozo hurling burning
firewood with loud curses at a huge cayman which had crawled up
the bank and passed beneath my hammock (being nearest the water)
towards the place where Carlito lay. The dog had raised the alarm
in time; the reptile backed out and tumbled down the bank to the
water, the sparks from the brands hurled at him flying from his
bony hide. To our great surprise the animal (we supposed it to be
the same individual) repeated his visit the very next night, this
time passing round to the other side of our shed. Cardozo was
awake, and threw a harpoon at him, but without doing him any
harm. After this it was thought necessary to make an effort to
check the alligators; a number of men were therefore persuaded to
sally forth in their montarias and devote a day to killing them.

The young men made several hunting excursions during the fourteen
days of our stay on Catua, and I, being associated with them in
all their pleasures, made generally one of the party. These were,
besides, the sole occasions on which I could add to my
collections, while on these barren sands. Only two of these trips
afforded incidents worth relating.

The first, which was made to the interior of the wooded island of
Catua, was not a very successful one. We were twelve in number,
all armed with guns and long hunting-knives. Long before sunrise,
my friends woke me up from my hammock, where I lay, as usual, in
the clothes worn during the day; and after taking each a cup-full
of cashaca and ginger (a very general practice in early morning
on the sand-banks), we commenced our walk. The waning moon still
lingered in the clear sky, and a profound stillness pervaded
sleeping camp, forest, and stream. Along the line of ranchos
glimmered the fires made by each party to dry turtle-eggs for
food, the eggs being spread on little wooden stages over the
smoke. The distance to the forest from our place of starting was
about two miles, being nearly the whole length of the sand-bank,
which was also a very broad one-- the highest part, where it was
covered with a thicket of dwarf willows, mimosas, and arrow
grass, lying near the ranchos. We loitered much on the way, and
the day dawned whilst we were yet on the road, the sand at this
early hour feeling quite cold to the naked feet. As soon as we
were able to distinguish things, the surface of the praia was
seen to be dotted with small black objects. These were newly-
hatched Aiyussa turtles, which were making their way in an
undeviating line to the water, at least a mile distant. The young
animal of this species is distinguishable from that of the large
turtle and the Tracaja, by the edges of the breast-plate being
raised on each side, so that in crawling it scores two parallel
lines on the sand. The mouths of these little creatures were full
of sand, a circumstance arising from their having to bite their
way through many inches of superincumbent sand to reach the
surface on emerging from the buried eggs. It was amusing to
observe how constantly they turned again in the direction of the
distant river, after being handled and set down on the sand with
their heads facing the opposite quarter. We saw also several
skeletons of the large cayman (some with the horny and bony hide
of the animal nearly perfect) embedded in the sand; they reminded
me of the remains of Ichthyosauri fossilised in beds of lias,
with the difference of being buried in fine sand instead of in
blue mud. I marked the place of one which had a well-preserved
skull, and the next day returned to secure it. The specimen is
now in the British Museum collection. There were also many
footmarks of jaguars on the sand.

We entered the forest, as the sun peeped over the tree-tops far
away down river. The party soon after divided, I keeping with a
section which was led by Bento, the Ega carpenter, a capital
woodsman. After a short walk we struck the banks of a beautiful
little lake, having grassy margins and clear dark water, on the
surface of which floated thick beds of water-lilies. We then
crossed a muddy creek or watercourse that entered the lake, and
then found ourselves on a restinga, or tongue of land between two
waters. By keeping in sight of one or the other of these, there
was no danger of our losing our way-- all other precautions were
therefore unnecessary. The forest was tolerably clear of
underwood, and consequently, easy to walk through. We had not
gone far before a soft, long-drawn whistle was heard aloft in the
trees, betraying the presence of Mutums (Curassow birds). The
crowns of the trees, a hundred feet or more over our heads, were
so closely interwoven that it was difficult to distinguish the
birds-- the practised eye of Bento, however, made them out, and a
fine male was shot from the flock, the rest flying away and
alighting at no great distance. The species was the one of which
the male has a round red ball on its beak (Crax globicera). The
pursuit of the others led us a great distance, straight towards
the interior of the island, in which direction we marched for
three hours, having the lake always on our right.

Arriving at length at the head of the lake, Bento struck off to
the left across the restinga, and we then soon came upon a
treeless space choked up with tall grass, which appeared to be
the dried-up bed of another lake. Our leader was obliged to climb
a tree to ascertain our position, and found that the clear space
was part of the creek, whose mouth we had crossed lower down. The
banks were clothed with low trees, nearly all of one species, a
kind of araca (Psidium), and the ground was carpeted with a
slender delicate grass, now in flower. A great number of crimson
and vermilion- butterflies (Catagramma Peristera, male
and female) were settled on the smooth, white trunks of these
trees. I had also here the great pleasure of seeing for the first
time, the rare and curious Umbrella Bird (Cephalopterus ornatus),
a species which resembles in size, colour, and appearance our
common crow, but is decorated with a crest of long, curved, hairy
feathers having long bare quills, which, when raised, spread
themselves out in the form of a fringed sunshade over the head. A
strange ornament, like a pelerine, is also suspended from the
neck, formed by a thick pad of glossy steel-blue feathers, which
grow on a long fleshy lobe or excrescence. This lobe is connected
(as I found on skinning specimens) with an unusual development of
the trachea and vocal organs, to which the bird doubtless owes
its singularly deep, loud, and long-sustained fluty note. The
Indian name of this strange creature is Uira-mimbeu, or fife-
bird, [Mimbeu is the Indian name for a rude kind of pan-pipes
used by the Caishanas and other tribes.] in allusion to the tone
of its voice. We had the good luck, after remaining quiet a short
time, to hear its performance. It drew itself up on its perch,
spread widely the umbrella-formed crest, dilated and waved its
glossy breast-lappet, and then, in giving vent to its loud piping
note, bowed its head slowly forwards. We obtained a pair, male
and female; the female has only the rudiments of the crest and
lappet, and is duller- altogether than the male. The
range of this bird appears to be quite confined to the plains of
the Upper Amazons (especially the Ygapo forests), not having been
found to the east of the Rio <DW64>.

Bento and our other friends being disappointed in finding no more
Curassows, or indeed any other species of game, now resolved to
turn back. On reaching the edge of the forest, we sat down and
ate our dinners under the shade-- each man having brought a
little bag containing a few handsfull of farinha, and a piece of
fried fish or roast turtle. We expected our companions of the
other division to join us at midday, but after waiting till past
one o'clock without seeing anything of them (in fact, they had
returned to the huts an hour or two previously), we struck off
across the praia towards the encampment. An obstacle here
presented itself on which we had not counted. The sun had shone
all day through a cloudless sky untempered by a breath of wind,
and the sands had become heated by it to a degree that rendered
walking over them with our bare feet impossible. The most
hardened footsoles of the party could not endure the burning
soil. We made several attempts; we tried running, having wrapped
the cool leaves of Heliconiae round our feet, but in no way could
we step forward many yards. There was no means of getting back to
our friends before night, except going round the praia, a circuit
of about four miles, and walking through the water or on the
moist sand. To get to the waterside from the place where we then
stood was not difficult, as a thick bed of a flowering shrub,
called tintarana, an infusion of the leaves of which is used to
dye black, lay on that side of the sand-bank. Footsore and
wearied, burthened with our guns, and walking for miles through
the tepid shallow water under the brain-scorching vertical sun,
we had, as may be imagined, anything but a pleasant time of it. I
did not, however, feel any inconvenience afterwards. Everyone
enjoys the most lusty health while living this free and wild life
on the rivers.

The other hunting trip which I have alluded to was undertaken in
company with three friendly young half-castes. Two of them were
brothers, namely, Joao (John) and Zephyrino Jabuti: Jabuti, or
tortoise, being a nickname which their father had earned for his
slow gait, and which, as is usual in this country, had descended
as the surname of the family. The other was Jose Frazao, a nephew
of Senor Chrysostomo, of Ega, an active, clever, and manly young
fellow, whom I much esteemed. He was almost a white-- his father
being a Portuguese and his mother a Mameluca. We were accompanied
by an Indian named Lino, and a Mulatto boy, whose office was to
carry our game.

Our proposed hunting-ground on this occasion lay across the
water, about fifteen miles distant. We set out in a small
montaria, at four o'clock in the morning, again leaving the
encampment asleep, and travelled at a good pace up the northern
channel of the Solimoens, or that lying between the island Catua
and the left bank of the river. The northern shore of the island
had a broad sandy beach reaching to its western extremity. We
gained our destination a little after daybreak; this was the
banks of the Carapanatuba, [Meaning, in Tupi, the river of many
mosquitoes: from carapana, mosquito, and ituba, many.] a channel
some 150 yards in width, which, like the Anana already mentioned,
communicates with the Cupiyo. To reach this we had to cross the
river, here nearly two miles wide. Just as day dawned we saw a
Cayman seize a large fish, a Tambaki, near the surface; the
reptile seemed to have a difficulty in securing its prey, for it
reared itself above the water, tossing the fish in its jaws and
making a tremendous commotion. I was much struck also by the
singular appearance presented by certain diving birds having very
long and snaky necks (the Plotus Anhinga). Occasionally a long
serpentine form would suddenly wriggle itself to a height of a
foot and a half above the glassy surface of the water, producing
such a deceptive imitation of a snake that at first I had some
difficulty in believing it to be the neck of a bird; it did not
remain long in view, but soon plunged again beneath the stream.

We ran ashore in a most lonely and gloomy place, on a low sand-
bank covered with bushes, secured the montaria to a tree, and
then, after making a very sparing breakfast on fried fish and
mandioca meal, rolled up our trousers and plunged into the thick
forest, which here, as everywhere else, rose like a lofty wall of
foliage from the narrow strip of beach. We made straight for the
heart of the land, John Jabuti leading, and breaking off at every
few steps a branch of the lower trees, so that we might recognise
the path on our return. The district was quite new to all my
companions, and being on a coast almost totally uninhabited by
human beings for some 300 miles, to lose our way would have been
to perish helplessly. I did not think at the time of the risk we
ran of having our canoe stolen by passing Indians, unguarded
montarias being never safe even in the ports of the villages,
Indians apparently considering them common property, and stealing
them without any compunction. No misgivings clouded the lightness
of heart with which we trod forward in warm anticipation of a
good day's sport.

The tract of forest through which we passed was Ygapo, but the
higher parts of the land formed areas which went only a very few
inches under water in the flood season. It consisted of a most
bewildering diversity of grand and beautiful trees, draped,
festooned, corded, matted, and ribboned with climbing plants,
woody and succulent, in endless variety. The most prevalent palm
was the tall Astryocaryum Jauari, whose fallen spines made it
necessary to pick our way carefully over the ground, as we were
all barefooted. There was not much green underwood, except in
places where Bamboos grew; these formed impenetrable thickets of
plumy foliage and thorny, jointed stems, which always compelled
us to make a circuit to avoid them. The earth elsewhere was
encumbered with rotting fruits, gigantic bean-pods, leaves,
limbs, and trunks of trees; fixing the impression of its being
the cemetery as well as the birthplace of the great world of
vegetation overhead. Some of the trees were of prodigious height.
We passed many specimens of the Moratinga, whose cylindrical
trunks, I dare not say how many feet in circumference, towered up
and were lost amidst the crowns of the lower trees, their lower
branches, in some cases, being hidden from our view. Another very
large and remarkable tree was the Assacu (Sapium aucuparium). A
traveller on the Amazons, mingling with the people, is sure to
hear much of the poisonous qualities of the juices of this tree.
Its bark exudes, when hacked with a knife, a milky sap, which is
not only a fatal poison when taken internally, but is said to
cause incurable sores if simply sprinkled on the skin. My
companions always gave the Assacu a wide berth when we passed
one. The tree looks ugly enough to merit a bad name, for the bark
is of a dingy olive colour, and is studded with short and sharp,
venomous-looking spines.

After walking about half a mile we came upon a dry watercourse,
where we observed, first, the old footmarks of a tapir, and, soon
after, on the margin of a curious circular hole full of muddy
water, the fresh tracks of a Jaguar. This latter discovery was
hardly made when a rush was heard amidst the bushes on the top of
a sloping bank on the opposite side of the dried creek. We
bounded forward; it was, however, too late, for the animal had
sped in a few minutes far out of our reach. It was clear we had
disturbed, on our approach, the Jaguar, while quenching his
thirst at the water-hole. A few steps further on we saw the
mangled remains of an alligator (the Jacaretinga). The head,
forequarters, and bony shell were the only parts which remained;
but the meat was quite fresh, and there were many footmarks of
the Jaguar around the carcase-- so that there was no doubt this
had formed the solid part of the animal's breakfast. My
companions now began to search for the alligator's nest, the
presence of the reptile so far from the river being accountable
for on no other ground than its maternal solicitude for its eggs.
We found, in fact, the nest at the distance of a few yards from
the place. It was a conical pile of dead leaves, in the middle of
which twenty eggs were buried. These were of elliptical shape,
considerably larger than those of a duck, and having a hard shell
of the texture of porcelain, but very rough on the outside. They
make a loud sound when rubbed together, and it is said that it is
easy to find a mother alligator in the Ygapo forests by rubbing
together two eggs in this way, she being never far off, and
attracted by the sounds.

I put half-a-dozen of the alligator's eggs in my game-bag for
specimens, and we then continued on our way. Lino, who was now
first, presently made a start backwards, calling out "Jararaca!"
This is the name of a poisonous snake (genus Craspedocephalus),
which is far more dreaded by the natives than Jaguar or
Alligator. The individual seen by Lino lay coiled up at the foot
of a tree, and was scarcely distinguishable, on account of the
colours of its body being assimilated to those of the fallen
leaves. Its hideous, flat triangular head, connected with the
body by a thin neck, was reared and turned towards us: Frazao
killed it with a charge of shot, shattering it completely, and
destroying, to my regret, its value as a specimen. In conversing
on the subject of Jararacas as we walked onwards, every one of
the party was ready to swear that this snake attacks man without
provocation, leaping towards him from a considerable distance
when he approaches. I met, in the course of my daily rambles in
the woods, many Jararacas, and once or twice narrowly very
escaped treading on them, but never saw them attempt to spring.
On some subjects the testimony of the natives of a wild country
is utterly worthless. The bite of the Jararacas is generally
fatal. I knew of four or five instances of death from it, and
only of one clear case of recovery after being bitten; but in
that case the person was lamed for life.

We walked over moderately elevated and dry ground for about a
mile, and then descended (three or four feet only) to the dry bed
of another creek. This was pierced in the same way as the former
water-course, with round holes full of muddy water. They occurred
at intervals of a few yards, and had the appearance of having
been made by the hand of man. The smallest were about two feet,
the largest seven or eight feet in diameter. As we approached the
most extensive of the larger ones, I was startled at seeing a
number of large serpent-like heads bobbing about the surface.
They proved to be those of electric eels, and it now occurred to
me that the round holes were made by these animals working
constantly round and round in the moist, muddy soil. Their depth
(some of them were at least eight feet deep) was doubtless due
also to the movements of the eels in the soft soil, and accounted
for their not drying up, in the fine season, with the rest of the
creek. Thus, while alligators and turtles in this great inundated
forest region retire to the larger pools during the dry season,
the electric eels make for themselves little ponds in which to
pass the season of drought.

My companions now cut each a stout pole, and proceeded to eject
the eels in order to get at the other fishes, with which they had
discovered the ponds to abound. I amused them all very much by
showing how the electric shock from the eels could pass from one
person to another. We joined hands in a line while I touched the
biggest and freshest of the animals on the head with the point of
my hunting-knife. We found that this experiment did not succeed
more than three times with the same eel when out of the water;
for, the fourth time the shock was scarcely perceptible. All the
fishes found in the holes (besides the eels) belonged to one
species, a small kind of Acari, or Loricaria, a group whose
members have a complete bony integument. Lino and the boy strung
them together through the gills with slender sipos, and hung them
on the trees to await our return later in the day.

Leaving the bed of the creek, we marched onwards, always towards
the centre of the land, guided by the sun, which now glimmered
through the thick foliage overhead. About eleven o'clock we saw a
break in the forest before us, and presently emerged on the banks
of a rather large sheet of water. This was one of the interior
pools of which there are so many in this district. The margins
were elevated some few feet, and sloped down to the water, the
ground being hard and dry to the water's edge, and covered with
shrubby vegetation. We passed completely round this pool, finding
the crowns of the trees on its borders tenanted by curassow
birds, whose presence was betrayed as usual by the peculiar note
which they emit. My companions shot two of them. At the further
end of the lake lay a deep watercourse, which we traced for about
half a mile, and found to communicate with another and smaller
pool. This second one evidently swarmed with turtles, as we saw
the snouts of many peering above the surface of the water: the
same had not been seen in the larger lake, probably because we
had made too much noise in hailing our discovery on approaching
its banks. My friends made an arrangement on the spot for
returning to this pool, after the termination of the egg harvest
on Catua.

In recrossing the space between the two pools, we heard the crash
of monkeys in the crowns of trees overhead. The chase of these
occupied us a considerable time. Jose fired at length at one of
the laggards of the troop, and wounded him. He climbed pretty
nimbly towards a denser part of the tree, and a second and third
discharge failed to bring him down. The poor maimed creature then
trailed his limbs to one of the topmost branches, where we
descried him soon after, seated and picking the entrails from a
wound in his abdomen-- a most heart-rending sight. The height
from the ground to the bough on which he was perched could not
have been less than 150 feet, and we could get a glimpse of him
only by standing directly underneath, and straining our eyes
upwards. We killed him at last by loading our best gun with a
careful charge, and resting the barrel against the treetrunk to
steady the aim. A few shots entered his chin, and he then fell
heels over head screaming to the ground. Although it was I who
gave the final shot, this animal did not fall to my lot in
dividing the spoils at the end of the day. I regret now not
having preserved the skin, as it belonged to a very large species
of Cebus, and one which I never met with afterwards.

It was about one o'clock in the afternoon when we again reached
the spot where we had first struck the banks of the larger pool.
We hitherto had but poor sport, so after dining on the remains of
our fried fish and farinha, and smoking our cigarettes, the
apparatus for making which, including bamboo tinder-box and steel
and flint for striking a light, being carried by every one always
on these expeditions, we made off in another (westerly) direction
through the forest to try to find better hunting-ground. We
quenched our thirst with water from the pool, which I was rather
surprised to find quite pure. These pools are, of course,
sometimes fouled for a time by the movements of alligators and
other tenants in the fine mud which settles at the bottom, but I
never observed a scum of confervae or traces of oil revealing
animal decomposition on the surface of these waters, nor was
there ever any foul smell perceptible. The whole of this level
land, instead of being covered with unwholesome swamps emitting
malaria, forms in the dry season (and in the wet also) a most
healthy country. How elaborate must be the natural processes of
self-purification in these teeming waters!

On our fresh route we were obliged to cut our way through a long
belt of bamboo underwood, and not being so careful of my steps as
my companions, I trod repeatedly on the flinty thorns which had
fallen from the bushes, finishing by becoming completely lame,
one thorn having entered deeply the sole of my foot. I was
obliged to be left behind-- Lino, the Indian, remaining with me.
The careful fellow cleaned my wounds with his saliva, placed
pieces of isca (the felt-like substance manufactured by ants) on
them to staunch the blood, and bound my feet with tough bast to
serve as shoes, which he cut from the bark of a Monguba tree. He
went about his work in a very gentle way and with much skill, but
was so sparing of speech that I could scarcely get answers to the
questions I put to him. When he had done I was able to limp about
pretty nimbly. An Indian when he performs a service of this kind
never thinks of a reward. I did not find so much
disinterestedness in <DW64> slaves or half-castes. We had to wait
two hours for the return of our companions; during part of this
time I was left quite alone, Lino having started off into the
jungle after a peccary (a kind of wild hog) which had come near
to where we sat, but on seeing us had given a grunt and bounded
off into the thickets. At length our friends hove in sight,
loaded with game; having shot twelve curassows and two cujubims
(Penelope Pipile), a handsome black fowl with a white head, which
is arboreal in its habits like the rest of this group of
Gallinaceous birds inhabiting the South American forests. They
had discovered a third pool containing plenty of turtles. Lino
rejoined us at the same time, having missed the peccary, but in
compensation shot a Quandu, or porcupine. The mulatto boy had
caught alive in the pool a most charming little water-fowl, a
species of grebe. It was somewhat smaller than a pigeon, and had
a pointed beak; its feet were furnished with many intricate folds
or frills of skin instead of webs, and resembled very much those
of the gecko lizards. The bird was kept as a pet in Jabuti's
house at Ega for a long time afterwards, where it became
accustomed to swim about in a common hand-basin full of water,
and was a great favourite with everybody.

We now retraced our steps towards the water-side, a weary walk of
five or six miles, reaching our canoe by half-past five o'clock,
or a little before sunset. It was considered by everyone at Catua
that we had had an unusually good day's sport. I never knew any
small party to take so much game in one day in these forests,
over which animals are everywhere so widely and sparingly
scattered. My companions were greatly elated, and on approaching
the encampment at Catua, made a great commotion with their
paddles to announce their successful return, singing in their
loudest key one of the wild choruses of the Amazonian boatmen.

The excavation of eggs and preparation of the oil being finished,
we left Catua on the 3rd of November. Carepira, who was now
attached to Cardozo's party, had discovered another lake rich in
turtles, about twelve miles distant, in one of his fishing
rambles, and my friend resolved, before returning to Ega, to go
there with his nets and drag it as we had formerly done the
Aningal. Several Mameluco families of Ega begged to accompany us
to share the labours and booty; the Shumana family also joined
the party; we therefore, formed a large body, numbering in all
eight canoes and fifty persons.

The summer season was now breaking up; the river was rising; the
sky was almost constantly clouded, and we had frequent rains. The
mosquitoes also, which we had not felt while encamped on the
sand-banks, now became troublesome. We paddled up the north-
westerly channel, and arrived at a point near the upper end of
Catua at ten o'clock p.m. There was here a very broad beach of
untrodden white sand, which extended quite into the forest, where
it formed rounded hills and hollows like sand dunes, covered with
a peculiar vegetation: harsh, reedy grasses, and low trees matted
together with lianas, and varied with dwarf spiny palms of the
genus Bactris. We encamped for the night on the sands, finding
the place luckily free from mosquitoes. The different portions of
the party made arched coverings with the toldos or maranta-leaf
awnings of their canoes to sleep under, fixing the edges in the
sand. No one, however, seemed inclined to go to sleep, so after
supper we all sat or lay around the large fires and amused
ourselves. We had the fiddler with us, and in the intervals
between the wretched tunes which he played, the usual amusement
of story-telling beguiled the time: tales of hair-breadth escapes
from jaguar, alligator, and so forth. There were amongst us a
father and son who had been the actors, the previous year, in an
alligator adventure on the edge of the praia we had just left.
The son, while bathing, was seized by the thigh and carried under
water-- a cry was raised, and the father, rushing down the bank,
plunged after the rapacious beast, which was diving away with his
victim. It seems almost incredible that a man could overtake and
master the large cayman in his own element; but such was the case
in this instance, for the animal was reached and forced to
release his booty by the man's thrusting his thumb into his eye.
The lad showed us the marks of the alligator's teeth on his
thigh. We sat up until past midnight listening to these stories
and assisting the flow of talk by frequent potations of burnt
rum. A large, shallow dish was filled with the liquor and fired;
when it had burned for a few minutes, the flame was extinguished
and each one helped himself by dipping a tea-cup into the vessel.

One by one the people dropped asleep, and then the quiet murmur
of talk of the few who remained awake was interrupted by the roar
of jaguars in the jungle about a furlong distant. There was not
one only, but several of the animals. The older men showed
considerable alarm and proceeded to light fresh fires around the
outside of our encampment. I had read in books of travel of
tigers coming to warm themselves by the fires of a bivouac, and
thought my strong wish to witness the same sight would have been
gratified tonight. I had not, however,such good fortune, although
I was the last to go to sleep, and my bed was the bare sand under
a little arched covering open at both ends. The jaguars,
nevertheless, must have come very near during the night, for
their fresh footmarks were numerous within a score yards of the
place where we slept. In the morning I had a ramble along the
borders of the jungle, and found the tracks very numerous and
close together on the sandy soil.

We remained in this neighbourhood four days, and succeeded in
obtaining many hundred turtles, but we were obliged to sleep two
nights within the Carapanatuba channel. The first night passed
rather pleasantly, for the weather was fine, and we encamped in
the forest, making large fires and slinging our hammocks between
the trees. The second was one of the most miserable nights I ever
spent. The air was close, and a drizzling rain began to fall
about midnight, lasting until morning. We tried at first to brave
it out under the trees. Several very large fires were made,
lighting up with ruddy gleams the magnificent foliage in the
black shades around our encampment. The heat and smoke had the
desired effect of keeping off pretty well the mosquitoes, but the
rain continued until at length everything was soaked, and we had
no help for it but to bundle off to the canoes with drenched
hammocks and garments. There was not nearly room enough in the
flotilla to accommodate so large a number of persons lying at
full length; moreover the night was pitch dark, and it was quite
impossible in the gloom and confusion to get at a change of
clothing. So there we lay, huddled together in the best way we
could arrange ourselves, exhausted with fatigue and irritated
beyond all conception by clouds of mosquitoes. I slept on a bench
with a sail over me, my wet clothes clinging to my body, and to
increase my discomfort, close beside me lay an Indian girl, one
of Cardozo's domestics, who had a skin disfigured with black
diseased patches, and whose thick clothing, not having been
washed during the whole time we had been out (eighteen days),
gave forth a most vile effluvium.

We spent the night of the 7th of November pleasantly on the
smooth sands, where the jaguars again serenaded us, and on the
succeeding morning we commenced our return voyage to Ega. We
first doubled the upper end of the island of Catua, and then
struck off for the right bank of the Solimoens. The river was
here of immense width, and the current was so strong in the
middle that it required the most strenuous exertions on the part
of our paddlers to prevent us from being carried miles away down
the stream. At night we reached the Juteca, a small river which
enters the Solimoens by a channel so narrow that a man might
almost jump across it, but a furlong inwards expands into a very
pretty lake several miles in circumference. We slept again in the
forest, and again were annoyed by rain and mosquitoes; but this
time Cardozo and I preferred remaining where we were to mingling
with the reeking crowd in the boats. When the grey dawn arose a
steady rain was still falling, and the whole sky had a settled,
leaden appearance, but it was delightfully cool. We took our net
into the lake and gleaned a good supply of delicious fish for
breakfast. I saw at the upper end of this lake the native rice of
this country growing wild.

The weather cleared up at ten o'clock a.m. At three p.m. we
arrived at the mouth of the Cayambe, another tributary stream
much larger than the Juteca. The channel of exit to the Solimoens
was here also very narrow, but the expanded river inside is of
vast dimensions: it forms a lake (I may safely venture to say),
several score miles in circumference. Although prepared for these
surprises, I was quite taken aback in this case. We had been
paddling all day along a monotonous shore, with the dreary
Solimoens before us, here three to four miles broad, heavily
rolling onward its muddy waters. We come to a little gap in the
earthy banks, and find a dark, narrow inlet with a wall of forest
overshadowing it on each side; we enter it, and at a distance of
two or three hundred yards a glorious sheet of water bursts upon
the view. The scenery of Cayambe is very picturesque. The land,
on the two sides visible of the lake, is high, and clothed with
sombre woods, varied here and there with a white-washed house, in
the middle of a green patch of clearing, belonging to settlers.
In striking contrast to these dark, rolling forests, is the
vivid, light green and cheerful foliage of the woods on the
numerous islets which rest like water-gardens on the surface of
the lake. Flocks of ducks, storks, and snow-white herons inhabit
these islets, and a noise of parrots with the tingling chorus of
Tamburi-paras was heard from them as we passed. This has a
cheering effect after the depressing stillness and absence of
life in the woods on the margins of the main river.

Cardozo and I took a small boat and crossed the lake to visit one
of the settlers, and on our return to our canoe, while in the
middle of the lake, a squall suddenly arose in the direction
towards which we were going, so that for a whole hour we were in
great danger of being swamped. The wind blew away the awning and
mats, and lashed the waters into foam, the waves rising to a
great height. Our boat, fortunately, was excellently constructed,
rising well towards the prow, so that with good steering we
managed to head the billows as they arose, and escaped without
shipping much water. We reached our igarite at sunset, and then
made all speed to Curubaru, fifteen miles distant, to encamp for
the night on the sands. We reached the praia at ten o'clock. The
waters were now mounting fast upon the sloping beach, and we
found on dragging the net next morning that fish was beginning to
be scarce. Cardozo and his friends talked quite gloomily at
breakfast time over the departure of the joyous verao, and the
setting in of the dull, hungry winter season.

At nine o'clock in the morning of the 10th of November a light
wind from down river sprang up, and all who had sails hoisted
them. It was the first time during our trip that we had had
occasion to use our sails, so continual is the calm on this upper
river. We bowled along merrily, and soon entered the broad
channel lying between Baria and the mainland on the south bank.
The wind carried us right into the mouth of the Teffe and at four
o'clock p.m. we cast anchor in the port of Ega.


CHAPTER XII

ANIMALS OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF EGA

Scarlet-faced Monkeys--Parauacu Monkey--Owl-faced Night-apes--
Marmosets--Jupura--Bats--Birds--Cuvier's Toucan--Curl-crested
Toucan--Insects--Pendulous Cocoons--Foraging Ants--Blind Ants

As may have been gathered from the remarks already made, the
neighbourhood of Ega was a fine field for a Natural History
collector. With the exception of what could be learned from the
few specimens brought home, after transient visits by Spix and
Martius and the Count de Castelnau, whose acquisitions have been
deposited in the public museums of Munich and Paris, very little
was known in Europe of the animal tenants of this region; the
collections that I had the opportunity of making and sending home
attracted, therefore, considerable attention. Indeed, the name of
my favourite village has become quite a household word among a
numerous class of Naturalists, not only in England but abroad, in
consequence of the very large number of new species (upwards of
3000) which they have had to describe, with the locality "Ega"
attached to them. The discovery of new species, however, forms
but a small item in the interest belonging to the study of the
living creation. The structure, habits, instincts, and
geographical distribution of some of the oldest-known forms
supply inexhaustible materials for reflection. The few remarks I
have to make on the animals of Ega will relate to the mammals,
birds, and insects, and will sometimes apply to the productions
of the whole Upper Amazons region. We will begin with the
monkeys, the most interesting, next to man, of all animals.

Scarlet-faced Monkeys--Early one sunny morning, in the year 1855,
I saw in the streets of Ega a number of Indians, carrying on
their shoulders down to the port, to be embarked on the Upper
Amazons steamer, a large cage made of strong lianas, some twelve
feet in length and five in height, containing a dozen monkeys of
the most grotesque appearance. Their bodies (about eighteen
inches in height, exclusive of limbs) were clothed from neck to
tail with very long, straight, and shining whitish hair; their
heads were nearly bald, owing to the very short crop of thin grey
hairs, and their faces glowed with the most vivid scarlet hue. As
a finish to their striking physiognomy, they had bushy whiskers
of a sandy colour, meeting under the chin, and reddish-yellow
eyes. These red-faced apes belonged to a species called by the
Indians Uakari, which is peculiar to the Ega district, and the
cage with its contents was being sent as a present by Senor
Chrysostomo, the Director of Indians of the Japura, to one of the
Government officials at Rio Janeiro, in acknowledgment of having
been made colonel of the new National Guard. They had been
obtained with great difficulty in the forests which cover the
lowlands near the principal mouth of the Japura, about thirty
miles from Ega. It was the first time I had seen this most
curious of all the South American monkeys, and one that appears
to have escaped the notice of Spix and Martius. I afterwards made
a journey to the district inhabited by it, but did not then
succeed in obtaining specimens; before leaving the country,
however, I acquired two individuals, one of which lived in my
house for several weeks.

The scarlet-faced monkey belongs, in all essential points of
structure, to the same family (Cebidae) as the rest of the large-
sized American species; but it differs from all its relatives in
having only the rudiment of a tail, a member which reaches in
some allied kinds the highest grade of development known in the
order. It was so unusual to see a nearly tailless monkey from
America, that naturalists thought, when the first specimens
arrived in Europe, that the member had been shortened
artificially. Nevertheless, the Uakari is not quite isolated from
its related species of the same family, several other kinds, also
found on the Amazons, forming a graduated passage between the
extreme forms as regards the tail. The appendage reaches its
perfection in those genera (the Howlers, the Lagothrix and the
Spider monkeys) in which it presents on its under-surface near
the tip a naked palm, which makes it sensitive and useful as a
fifth hand in climbing. In the rest of the genera of Cebidae
(seven in number, containing thirty-eight species), the tail is
weaker in structure, entirely covered with hair, and of little or
no service in climbing, a few species nearly related to our
Uakari having it much shorter than usual. All the Cebidae, both
long-tailed and short-tailed, are equally dwellers in trees. The
scarlet-faced monkey lives in forests, which are inundated during
great part of the year, and is never known to descend to the
ground; the shortness of its tail is, therefore, no sign of
terrestrial habits, as it is in the Macaques and Baboons of the
Old World. It differs a little from the typical Cebidae in its
teeth, the incisors being oblique and, in the upper jaw,
converging, so as to leave a gap between the outermost and the
canine teeth. Like all the rest of its family, it differs from
the monkeys of the Old World, and from man, in having an
additional grinding-tooth (premolar) in each side of both jaws,
making the complete set thirty-six instead of thirty-two in
number.

The white Uakari (Brachyurus calvus), seems to be found in no
other part of America than the district just mentioned, namely,
the banks of the Japura, near its principal mouth; and even there
it is confined, as far I could learn, to the western side of the
river. It lives in small troops among the crowns of the lofty
trees, subsisting on fruits of various kinds. Hunters say it is
pretty nimble in its motions, but is not much given to leaping,
preferring to run up and down the larger boughs in travelling
from tree to tree. The mother, as in other species of the monkey
order, carries her young on her back. Individuals are obtained
alive by shooting them with the blow-pipe and arrows tipped with
diluted Urari poison. They run a considerable distance after
being pierced, and it requires an experienced hunter to track
them. He is considered the most expert who can keep pace with a
wounded one, and catch it in his arms when it falls exhausted. A
pinch of salt, the antidote to the poison, is then put in its
mouth, and the creature revives. The species is rare, even in the
limited district which it inhabits. Senor Chrysostomo sent six of
his most skillful Indians, who were absent three weeks before
they obtained the twelve specimens which formed his unique and
princely gift. When an independent hunter obtains one, a very
high price (thirty to forty milreis) [Three pounds seven
shillings to four pounds thirteen shillings] is asked, these
monkeys being in great demand for presents to persons of
influence down the river.

Adult Uakaris, caught in the way just described, very rarely
become tame. They are peevish and sulky, resisting all attempts
to coax them, and biting anyone who ventures within reach. They
have no particular cry, even when in their native woods; in
captivity they are quite silent. In the course of a few days or
weeks, if not very carefully attended to, they fall into a
listless condition, refuse food, and die. Many of them succumb to
a disease which I suppose from the symptoms to be inflammation of
the chest or lungs. The one which I kept as a pet died of this
disorder after I had had it about three weeks. It lost its
appetite in a very few days, although kept in an airy verandah;
its coat, which was originally long, smooth, and glossy, became
dingy and ragged like that of the specimens seen in museums, and
the bright scarlet colour of its face changed to a duller hue.
This colour, in health, is spread over the features up to the
roots of the hair on the forehead and temples, and down to the
neck, including the flabby cheeks which hang down below the jaws.
The animal, in this condition, looks at a short distance as
though some one had laid a thick coat of red paint on its
countenance. The death of my pet was slow; during the last
twenty-four hours it lay prostrate, breathing quickly, its chest
strongly heaving; the colour of its face became gradually paler,
but was still red when it expired. As the hue did not quite
disappear until two or three hours after the animal was quite
dead, I judged that it was not exclusively due to the blood, but
partly to a pigment beneath the skin which would probably retain
its colour a short time after the circulation had ceased.

After seeing much of the morose disposition of the Uakari, I was
not a little surprised one day at a friend's house to find an
extremely lively and familiar individual of this species. It ran
from an inner chamber straight towards me after I had sat down on
a chair, climbed my legs and nestled in my lap, turning round and
looking up with the usual monkey's grin, after it had made itself
comfortable. It was a young animal which had been taken when its
mother was shot with a poisoned arrow; its teeth were incomplete,
and the face was pale and mottled, the glowing scarlet hue not
supervening in these animals before mature age; it had also a few
long black hairs on the eyebrows and lips. The frisky little
fellow had been reared in the house amongst the children, and
allowed to run about freely, and take its meals with the rest of
the household. There are few animals which the Brazilians of
these villages have not succeeded in taming. I have even seen
young jaguars running loose about a house, and treated as pets.
The animals that I had rarely became familiar, however long they
might remain in my possession, a circumstance due no doubt to
their being kept always tied up.

The Uakari is one of the many species of animals which are
classified by the Brazilians as "mortal," or of delicate
constitution, in contradistinction to those which are "duro," or
hardy. A large proportion of the specimens sent from Ega die
before arriving at Para, and scarcely one in a dozen succeeds in
reaching Rip Janeiro alive. The difficulty it has of
accommodating itself to changed conditions probably has some
connection with the very limited range or confined sphere of life
of the species in its natural state, its native home being an
area of swampy woods, not more than about sixty square miles in
extent, although no permanent barrier exists to cheek its
dispersal, except towards the south, over a much wider space.
When I descended the river in 1859, we had with us a tame adult
Uakari, which was allowed to ramble about the vessel, a large
schooner. When we reached the mouth of the Rio <DW64>, we had to
wait four days while the custom-house officials at Barra, ten
miles distant, made out the passports for our crew, and during
this time the schooner lay close to the shore, with its bowsprit
secured to the trees on the bank. Well, one morning, scarlet-face
was missing, having made his escape into the forest. Two men were
sent in search of him, but returned after several hours' absence
without having caught sight of the runaway. We gave up the monkey
for lost, until the following day, when he re-appeared on the
skirts of the forest, and marched quietly down the bowsprit to
his usual place on deck. He had evidently found the forests of
the Rio <DW64> very different from those of the delta lands of the
Japura, and preferred captivity to freedom in a place that was so
uncongenial to him.

The Parauacu Monkey.--Another Ega monkey, nearly related to the
Uakaris, is the Parauacu (Pithecia hirsuta), a timid inoffensive
creature with a long bear-like coat of harsh speckled-grey hair.
The long fur hangs over the head, half concealing the pleasing
diminutive face, and clothes also the tail to the tip, which
member is well developed, being eighteen inches in length, or
longer than the body. The Parauacu is found on the "terra firma"
lands of the north shore of the Solimoens from Tunantins to Peru.
It exists also on the south side of the river, namely, on the
banks of the Teffe, but there under a changed form, which differs
a little from its type in colours. This form has been described
by Dr. Gray as a distinct species, under the name of Pithecia
albicans. The Parauacu is also a very delicate animal, rarely
living many weeks in captivity; but any one who succeeds in
keeping it alive for a month or two, gains by it a most
affectionate pet. One of the specimens of Pithecia albicans now
in the British Museum was, when living, the property of a young
Frenchman, a neighbour of mine at Ega. It became so tame in the
course of a few weeks that it followed him about the streets like
a dog. My friend was a tailor, and the little pet used to spend
the greater part of the day seated on his shoulder, while he was
at work on his board. Nevertheless,it showed great dislike to
strangers, and was not on good terms with any other member of my
friend's household than himself. I saw no monkey that showed so
strong a personal attachment as this gentle, timid, silent,
little creature. The eager and passionate Cebi seem to take the
lead of all the South American monkeys in intelligence and
docility, and the Coaita has perhaps the most gentle and
impressible disposition; but the Parauacu, although a dull,
cheerless animal, excels all in this quality of capability of
attachment to individuals of our own species. It is not wanting,
however, in intelligence as well as moral goodness, proof of
which was furnished one day by an act of our little pet. My
neighbour had quitted his house in the morning without taking
Parauacu with him, and the little creature having missed its
friend, and concluded, as it seemed, that he would be sure to
come to me, both being in the habit of paying me a daily visit
together, came straight to my dwelling, taking a short cut over
gardens, trees, and thickets, instead of going the roundabout way
of the street. It had never done this before, and we knew the
route it had taken only from a neighbour having watched its
movements. On arriving at my house and not finding its master, it
climbed to the top of my table, and sat with an air of quiet
resignation waiting for him. Shortly afterwards my friend
entered, and the gladdened pet then jumped to its usual perch on
his shoulder.

Owl-laced Night Apes--A third interesting genus of monkeys found
near Ega, are the Nyctipitheci, or night apes, called Ei-a by the
Indians. Of these I found two species, closely related to each
other but nevertheless quite distinct, as both inhabit the same
forests, namely, those of the higher and drier lands, without
mingling with each other or intercrossing. They sleep all day
long in hollow trees, and come forth to prey on insects and eat
fruits only in the night. They are of small size, the body being
about a foot long, and the tall fourteen inches, and are thickly
clothed with soft grey and brown fur, similar in substance to
that of the rabbit. Their physiognomy reminds one of an owl, or
tiger-cat: the face is round and encircled by a ruff of whitish
fur. the muzzle is not at all prominent; the mouth and chin are
small; the cars are very short, scarcely appearing above the hair
of the head; and the eyes are large and yellowish in colour,
imparting the staring expression of nocturnal animals of prey.
The forehead is whitish, and decorated with three black stripes,
which in one of the species (Nyctipithecus trivirgatus) continue
to the crown; and in the other (N. felinus), meet on the top of
the forehead. N. trivirgatus was first described by Humboldt, who
discovered it on the banks of the Cassiquiare, near the head
waters of the Rio <DW64>.

I kept a pet animal of the N. trivirgatus for many months, a
young one having been given to me by an Indian compadre, as a
present from my newly-baptised godson. These monkeys, although
sleeping by day, are aroused by the least noise; so that, when a
person passes by a tree in which a number of them are concealed,
he is startled by the sudden apparition of a group of little
striped faces crowding a hole in the trunk. It was in this way
that my compadre discovered the colony from which the one given
to me was taken. I was obliged to keep my pet chained up; it
therefore, never became thoroughly familiar. I once saw, however,
an individual of the other species (N. felinus) which was most
amusingly tame. It was as lively and nimble as the Cebi, but not
so mischievous and far more confiding in its disposition,
delighting to be caressed by all persons who came into the house.
But its owner, the Municipal Judge of Ega, Dr. Carlos Mariana,
had treated it for many weeks with the greatest kindness,
allowing it to sleep with him at night in his hammock, and to
nestle in his bosom half the day as he lay reading. It was a
great favourite with everyone, from the cleanliness of its habits
to the prettiness of its features and ways. My own pet was kept
in a box, in which was placed a broad-mouthed glass jar; into
this it would dive, head foremost, when any one entered the room,
turning round inside, and thrusting forth its inquisitive face an
instant afterwards to stare at the intruder. It was very active
at night, venting at frequent intervals a hoarse cry, like the
suppressed barking of a dog, and scampering about the room, to
the length of its tether, after cockroaches and spiders. In
climbing between the box and the wall, it straddled the space,
resting its hands on the palms and tips of the out-stretched
fingers with the knuckles bent at an acute angle, and thus
mounted to the top with the greatest facility. Although seeming
to prefer insects, it ate all kinds of fruit, but would not touch
raw or cooked meat, and was very seldom thirsty. I was told by
persons who had kept these monkeys loose about the house, that
they cleared the chambers of bats as well as insect vermin. When
approached gently my Ei-a allowed itself to be caressed; but when
handled roughly, it always took alarm, biting severely, striking
out its little hands, and making a hissing noise like a cat. As
already related, my pet was killed by a jealous Caiarara monkey,
which was kept in the house at the same time.

Barrigudo Monkeys.--Ten other species of monkeys were found, in
addition to those already mentioned, in the forests of the Upper
Amazons. All were strictly arboreal and diurnal in their habits,
and lived in flocks, travelling from tree to tree, the mothers
with their children on their backs-- leading, in fact, a life
similar to that of the Pararauate Indians, and, like them,
occasionally plundering the plantations which lie near their line
of march. Some of them were found also on the Lower Amazons, and
have been noticed in former chapters of this narrative. Of the
remainder, the most remarkable is the Macaco barrigudo, or bag-
bellied monkey of the Portuguese colonists, a species of
Lagothrix. The genus is closely allied to the Coaitas, or spider
monkeys, having, like them, exceedingly strong and flexible
tails, which are furnished underneath with a naked palm like a
hand, for grasping. The Barrigudos, however, are very bulky
animals, while the spider monkeys are remarkable for the
slenderness of their bodies and limbs. I obtained specimens of
what have been considered two species, one (L. olivaceus of
Spix?) having the head clothed with grey, the other (L.
Humboldtii) with black fur. They both live together in the same
places, and are probably only differently- individuals of
one and the same species. I sent home a very large male of one of
these kinds, which measured twenty-seven inches in length of
trunk, the tail being twenty-six inches long; it was the largest
monkey I saw in America, with the exception of a black Howler,
whose body was twenty-eight inches in height. The skin of the
face in the Barrigudo is black and wrinkled, the forehead is low,
with the eyebrows projecting, and, in short, the features
altogether resemble in a striking manner those of an old <DW64>.
In the forests, the Barrigudo is not a very active animal; it
lives exclusively on fruits, and is much persecuted by the
Indians, on account of the excellence of its flesh as food. From
information given me by a collector of birds and mammals, whom I
employed, and who resided a long time among the Tucuna Indians
near Tabatinga, I calculated that one horde of this tribe, 200 in
number, destroyed 1200 of these monkeys annually for food. The
species is very numerous in the forests of the higher lands, but,
owing to long persecution, it is now seldom seen in the
neighbourhood of the larger villages. It is not found at all on
the Lower Amazons. Its manners in captivity are grave, and its
temper mild and confiding, like that of the Coaitas, owing to
these traits, the Barrigudo is much sought after for pets; but it
is not hardy like the Coaitas, and seldom survives a passage down
the river to Para.

Marmosets.-It now only remains to notice the Marmosets, which
form the second family of American monkeys. Our old friend Midas
ursulus, of Para and the Lower Amazons, is not found on the Upper
river, but in its stead a closely-allied species presents itself,
which appears to be the Midas rufoniger of Gervais, whose mouth
is bordered with longish white hairs. The habits of this species
are the same as those of the M. ursulus, indeed it seems probable
that it is a form or race of the same stock, modified to suit the
altered local conditions under which it lives. One day, while
walking along a forest pathway, I saw one of these lively little
fellows miss his grasp as he was passing from one tree to another
along with his troop. He fell head foremost, from a height of at
least fifty feet, but managed cleverly to alight on his legs in
the pathway, quickly turning around, gave me a good stare for a
few moments, and then bounded off gaily to climb another tree. At
Tunantins, I shot a pair of a very handsome species of Marmoset,
the M. rufiventer, I believe, of zoologists. Its coat was very
glossy and smooth, the back deep brown, and the underside of the
body of rich black and reddish hues. A third species (found at
Tabatinga, 200 miles further west) is of a deep black colour,
with the exception of a patch of white hair around its mouth. The
little animal, at a short distance, looks as though it held a
ball of snow-white cotton in its teeth. The last I shall mention
is the Hapale pygmaeus, one of the most diminutive forms of the
monkey order, three full-grown specimens of which, measuring only
seven inches in length of body, I obtained near St. Paulo. The
pretty Lilliputian face is furnished with long brown whiskers,
which are naturally brushed back over the cars. The general
colour of the animal is brownish-tawny, but the tail is elegantly
barred with black. I was surprised, on my return to England, to
learn from specimens in the British Museum, that the pigmy
Marmoset was found also in Mexico-- no other Amazonian monkey
being known to wander far from the great river plain. Thus, the
smallest and apparently the feeblest, species of the whole order,
is one which has, by some means, become the most widely
dispersed.

The Jupura.--A curious animal, known to naturalists as the
Kinkajou, but called Jupura by the Indians of the Amazons, and
considered by them as a kind of monkey, may be mentioned in this
place. It is the Cercoleptes caudivolvus of zoologists, and has
been considered by some authors as an intermediate form between
the Lemur family of apes and the plantigrade Carnivora, or Bear
family. It has decidedly no close relation ship to either of the
groups of American monkeys, having six cutting teeth to each jaw,
and long claws instead of nails, with extremities of the usual
shape of paws instead of hands. Its muzzle is conical and
pointed, like that of many Lemurs of Madagascar; the expression
of its countenance, and its habits and actions, are also very
similar to those of Lemurs. Its tail is very flexible towards the
tip, and is used to twine round branches in climbing. I did not
see or hear anything of this animal while residing on the Lower
Amazons, but on the banks of the Upper river, from the Teffe to
Peru, it appeared to be rather common. It is nocturnal in its
habits, like the owl-faced monkeys, although, unlike them, it has
a bright, dark eye. I once saw it in considerable numbers, when
on an excursion with an Indian companion along the low Ygapo
shores of the Teffe, about twenty miles above Ega. We slept one
night at the house of a native family living in the thick of the
forest where a festival was going on and, there being no room to
hang our hammocks under shelter. on account of the number of
visitors, we lay down on a mat in the open air, near a shed which
stood in the midst of a grove of fruit-trees and pupunha palms.
Past midnight, when all became still, after the uproar of
holidaymaking, as I was listening to the dull, fanning sound made
by the wings of impish hosts of vampire bats crowding round the
Caju trees, a rustle commenced from the side of the woods, and a
troop of slender, long-tailed animals were seen against the clear
moonlit sky, taking flying leaps from branch to branch through
the grove. Many of them stopped at the pupunha trees, and the
hustling, twittering, and screaming, with sounds of falling
fruits, showed how they were employed. I thought, at first, they
were Nyctipitheci, but they proved to be Jupuras, for the owner
of the house early next morning caught a young one, and gave it
to me. I kept this as a pet animal for several weeks, feeding it
on bananas and mandioca-meal mixed with treacle. It became tame
in a very short time, allowing itself to be caressed, but making
a distinction in the degree of confidence it showed between
myself and strangers. My pet was unfortunately killed by a
neighbour's dog, which entered the room where it was kept. The
animal is so difficult to obtain  alive, its place of retreat in
the daytime not being known to the natives, that I was unable to
procure a second living specimen.

Bats--The only other mammals that I shall mention are the bats,
which exist in very considerable numbers and variety in the
forest, as well as in the buildings of the villages. Many small
and curious species, living in the woods, conceal themselves by
day under the broad leaf-blades of Heliconiae and other plants
which grow in shady places; others cling to the trunks of trees.
While walking through the forest in the daytime, especially along
gloomy ravines, one is almost sure to startle bats from their
sleeping-places; and at night they are often seen in great
numbers flitting about the trees on the shady margins of narrow
channels. I captured altogether, without giving especial
attention to bats, sixteen different species at Ega.

The Vampire Bat.--The little grey blood-sucking Phyllostoma,
mentioned in a former chapter as found in my chamber at Caripi,
was not uncommon at Ega, where everyone believes it to visit
sleepers and bleed them in the night. But the vampire was here by
far the most abundant of the family of leaf-nosed bats. It is the
largest of all the South American species, measuring twenty-eight
inches in expanse of wing. Nothing in animal physiognomy can be
more hideous than the countenance of this creature when viewed
from the front; the large, leathery ears standing out from the
sides and top of the head, the erect spear-shaped appendage on
the tip of the nose, the grin and the glistening black eye, all
combining to make up a figure that reminds one of some mocking
imp of fable. No wonder that imaginative people have inferred
diabolical instincts on the part of so ugly an animal. The
vampire, however, is the most harmless of all bats, and its
inoffensive character is well known to residents on the banks of
the Amazons. I found two distinct species of it, one having the
fur of a blackish colour, the other of a ruddy hue, and
ascertained that both feed chiefly on fruits. The church at Ega
was the headquarters of both kinds, I used to see them, as I sat
at my door during the short evening twilights, trooping forth by
scores from a large open window at the back of the altar,
twittering cheerfully as they sped off to the borders of the
forest. They sometimes enter houses; the first time I saw one in
my chamber, wheeling heavily round and round, I mistook it for a
pigeon, thinking that a tame one had escaped from the premises of
one of my neighbours. I opened the stomachs of several of these
bats, and found them to contain a mass of pulp and seeds of
fruits, mingled with a few remains of insects. The natives say
they devour ripe cajus and guavas on trees in the gardens, but on
comparing the seeds taken from their stomachs with those of all
cultivated trees at Ega, I found they were unlike any of them; it
is therefore, probable that they generally resort to the forest
to feed, coming to the village in the morning to sleep, because
they find it more secure from animals of prey than their natural
abides in the woods.

Birds.--I have already had occasion to mention several of the
more interesting birds found in the Ega district. The first thing
that would strike a newcomer in the forests of the Upper Amazons
would be the general scarcity of birds; indeed, it often happened
that I did not meet with a single bird during a whole day's
ramble in the richest and most varied parts of the woods. Yet the
country is tenanted by many hundred species, many of which are,
in reality, abundant, and some of them conspicuous from their
brilliant plumage. The cause of their apparent rarity is to be
sought in the sameness and density of the thousand miles of
forest which constitute their dwelling-place. The birds of the
country are gregarious, at least during the season when they are
most readily found; but the frugivorous kinds are to be met with
only when certain wild fruits are ripe, and to know the exact
localities of the trees requires months of experience. It would
not be supposed that the insectivorous birds are also gregarious,
but they are so-- numbers of distinct species, belonging to many
different families, joining together in the chase or search of
food. The proceedings of these associated bands of insect-hunters
are not a little curious, and merit a few remarks.

While hunting along the narrow pathways that are made through the
forest in the neighbourhood of houses and villages, one may pass
several days without seeing many birds; but now and then the
surrounding bushes and trees appear suddenly to swarm with them.
There are scores, probably hundreds of birds, all moving about
with the greatest activity--woodpeckers and Dendrocolaptidae
(from species no larger than a sparrow to others the size of a
crow) running up the tree trunks; tanagers, ant-thrushes,
hummingbirds, fly-catchers, and barbets flitting about the leaves
and lower branches. The bustling crowd loses no time, and
although moving in concert, each bird is occupied, on its own
account, in searching bark or leaf or twig; the barbets visit
every clayey nest of termites on the trees which lie in the line
of march. In a few minutes the host is gone, and the forest path
remains deserted and silent as before. I became, in course of
time, so accustomed to this habit of birds in the woods near Ega,
that I could generally find the flock of associated marauders
whenever I wanted it. There appeared to be only one of these
flocks in each small district; and, as it traversed chiefly a
limited tract of woods of second growth, I used to try different
paths until I came up with it.

The Indians have noticed these miscellaneous hunting parties of
birds, but appear not to have observed that they are occupied in
searching for insects. They have supplied their want of
knowledge, in the usual way of half-civilised people, by a theory
which has degenerated into a myth, to the effect that the onward
moving bands are led by a little grey bird, called the Uira-para,
which fascinates all the rest, and leads them a weary dance
through the thickets. There is certainly some appearance of truth
in this explanation, for sometimes stray birds encountered in the
line of march, are seen to be drawn into the throng, and purely
frugivorous birds are now and then found mixed up with the rest,
as though led away by some will-o'-the-wisp. The native women,
even the white and half-caste inhabitants of the towns, attach a
superstitious value to the skin and feathers of the Uira-para,
believing that if they keep them in their clothes' chest, the
relics will have the effect of attracting for the happy
possessors a train of lovers and followers. These birds are
consequently in great demand in some places, the hunters selling
them at a high price to the foolish girls, who preserve the
bodies by drying flesh and feathers together in the sun. I could
never get a sight of this famous little bird in the forest. I
once employed Indians to obtain specimens for me; but, after the
same man (who was a noted woodsman) brought me, at different
times, three distinct species of birds as the Uira-para, I gave
up the story as a piece of humbug. The simplest explanation
appears to be this: the birds associate in flocks from the
instinct of self-preservation in order to be a less easy prey to
hawks, snakes, and other enemies than they would be if feeding
alone.

Toucans--Cuvier's Toucan--Of this family of birds, so conspicuous
from the great size and light structure of their beaks, and so
characteristic of tropical American forests, five species inhabit
the woods of Ega. The commonest is Cuvier's Toucan, a large bird,
distinguished from its nearest relatives by the feathers at the
bottom of the back being of a saffron hue instead of red. It is
found more or less numerously throughout the year, as it breeds
in the neighbourhood, laying its eggs in holes of trees, at a
great height from the ground. During most months of the year, it
is met with in single individuals or small flocks, and the birds
are then very wary. Sometimes one of these little bands of four
or five is seen perched, for hours together, among the topmost
branches of high trees, giving vent to their remarkably loud,
shrill, yelping cries, one bird, mounted higher than the rest,
acting, apparently, as leader of the inharmonious chorus; but two
of them are often heard yelping alternately, and in different
notes. These cries have a vague resemblance to the syllables
Tocano, Tocano, and hence, the Indian name of this genus of
birds. At these times it is difficult to get a shot at Toucans,
for their senses are so sharpened that they descry the hunter
before he gets near the tree on which they are perched, although
he may be half-concealed among the underwood, 150 feet below
them. They stretch their necks downwards to look beneath, and on
espying the least movement among the foliage, fly off to the more
inaccessible parts of the forest. Solitary Toucans are sometimes
met with at the same season, hopping silently up and down the
larger boughs, and peering into crevices of the tree-trunks. They
moult in the months from March to June, some individuals earlier,
others later. This season of enforced quiet being passed, they
make their appearance suddenly in the dry forest, near Ega, in
large flocks, probably assemblages of birds gathered together
from the neighbouring Ygapo forests, which are then flooded and
cold. The birds have now become exceedingly tame, and the troops
travel with heavy laborious flight from bough to bough among the
lower trees. They thus become an easy prey to hunters, and
everyone at Ega who can get a gun of any sort and a few charges
of powder and shot, or a blow-pipe, goes daily to the woods to
kill a few brace for dinner; for, as already observed, the people
of Ega live almost exclusively on stewed and roasted Toucans
during the months of June and July, the birds being then very fat
and the meat exceedingly sweet and tender.

No one, on seeing a Toucan, can help asking what is the use of
the enormous bill, which, in some species, attains a length of
seven inches, and a width of more than two inches. A few remarks
on this subject may be here introduced. The early naturalists,
having seen only the bill of a Toucan, which was esteemed as a
marvellous production by the virtuosi of the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, concluded that the bird must have belonged
to the aquatic and web-footed order, as this contains so many
species of remarkable development of beak, adapted for seizing
fish. Some travvellers also related fabulous stories of Toucans
resorting to the banks of rivers to feed on fish, and these
accounts also encouraged the erroneous views of the habits of the
birds which for a long time prevailed. Toucans, however, are now
well known to be eminently arboreal birds, and to belong to a
group including trogons, parrots, and barbets [Capitoninae, G. R.
Gray.]-- all of whose members are fruit-eaters. On the Amazons,
where these birds are very common, no one pretends ever to have
seen a Toucan walking on the ground in its natural state, much
less acting the part of a swimming or wading bird. Professor Owen
found, on dissection, that the gizzard in Toucans is not so well
adapted for the trituration of food as it is in other vegetable
feeders, and concluded, therefore, as Broderip had observed the
habit of chewing the cud in a tame bird, that the great toothed
bill was useful in holding and remasticating the food. The bill
can scarcely be said to be a very good contrivance for seizing
and crushing small birds, or taking them from their nests in
crevices of trees, habits which have been imputed to Toucans by
some writers. The hollow, cellular structure of the interior of
the bill, its curved and clumsy shape, and the deficiency of
force and precision when it is used to seize objects, suggest a
want of fitness, if this be the function of the member. But fruit
is undoubtedly the chief food of Toucans, and it is in reference
to their mode of obtaining it that the use of their uncouth bills
is to be sought. Flowers and fruit on the crowns of the large
trees of South American forests grow, principally, towards the
end of slender twigs, which will not bear any considerable
weight; all animals, therefore, which feed upon fruit, or on
insects contained in flowers, must, of course, have some means of
reaching the ends of the stalks from a distance. Monkeys obtain
their food by stretching forth their long arms and, in some
instances, their tails, to bring the fruit near to their mouths.
Hummingbirds are endowed with highly perfected organs of flight
with corresponding muscular development by which they are enabled
to sustain themselves on the wing before blossoms whilst rifling
them of their contents. These strong-flying creatures, however,
will, whenever they can get near enough, remain on their perches
while probing neighbouring flowers for insects. Trogons have
feeble wings, and a dull, inactive temperament. Their mode of
obtaining food is to station themselves quietly on low branches
in the gloomy shades of the forest, and eye the fruits on the
surrounding trees-- darting off, as if with an effort, every time
they wish to seize a mouthful, and returning to the same perch.
Barbets (Capitoninae) seem to have no especial endowment, either
of habits or structure, to enable them to seize fruits; and in
this respect they are similar to the Toucans, if we leave the
bill out of question, both tribes having heavy bodies, with
feeble organs of flight, so that they are disabled from taking
their food on the wing. The purpose of the enormous bill here
becomes evident; it is to enable the Toucan to reach and devour
fruit whil remaining seated, and thus to counterbalance the
disadvantage which its heavy body and gluttonous appetite would
otherwise give it in the competition with allied groups of birds.
The relation between the extraordinarily lengthened bill of the
Toucan and its mode of obtaining food, is therefore precisely
similar to that between the long neck and lips of the Giraffe and
the mode of browsing of the animal. The bill of the Toucan can
scarcely be considered a very perfectly-formed instrument for the
end to which it is applied, as here explained; but nature appears
not to invent organs at once for the functions to which they are
now adapted, but avails herself, here of one already-existing
structure or instinct, there of another, according as they are
handy when need for their further modification arises.

One day, whil walking along the principal pathway in the woods
near Ega, I saw one of these Toucans seated gravely on a low
branch close to the road, and had no difficulty in seizing it
with my hand. It turned out to be a runaway pet bird; no one,
however, came to own it, although I kept it in my house for
several months. The bird was in a half-starved and sickly
condition, but after a few days of good living it recovered
health and spirits, and became one of the most amusing pets
imaginable. Many excellent accounts of the habits of tame Toucans
have been published, and therefore, I need not describe them in
detail, but I do not recollect to have seen any notice of their
intelligence and confiding disposition under domestication, in
which qualities my pet seemed to be almost equal to parrots. I
allowed Tocano to go free about the house, contrary to my usual
practice with pet animals, he never, however, mounted my working-
table after a smart correction which he received the first time
he did it. He used to sleep on the top of a box in a corner of
the room, in the usual position of these birds, namely, with the
long tail laid right over on the back, and the beak thrust
underneath the wing. He ate of everything that we eat; beef,
turtle, fish, farinha, fruit, and was a constant attendant at our
table--a cloth spread on a mat. His appetite was most ravenous,
and his powers of digestion quite wonderful. He got to know the
meal hours to a nicety, and we found it very difficult, after the
first week or two, to keep him away from the dining-room, where
he had become very impudent and troublesome. We tried to shut him
out by enclosing him in the backyard, which was separated by a
high fence from the street on which our front door opened, but he
used to climb the fence and hop round by a long circuit to the
dining-room, making his appearance with the greatest punctuality
as the meal was placed on the table. He acquired the habit,
afterwards, of rambling about the street near our house, and one
day he was stolen, so we gave him up for lost. But two days
afterwards he stepped through the open doorway at dinner hour,
with his old gait, and sly magpie-like expression, having escaped
from the house where he had been guarded by the person who had
stolen him, and which was situated at the further end of the
village.

The Curl-crested Toucan (Pteroglossus Beauharnaisii).--Of the
four smaller Toucans, or Arassaris, found near Ega, the
Pteroglossus flavirostris is perhaps the most beautiful in
colours, its breast being adorned with broad belts of rich
crimson and black; but the most curious species, by far, is the
Curl-crested, or Beauharnais Toucan. The feathers on the head of
this singular bird are transformed into thin, horny plates, of a
lustrous black colour, curled up at the ends, and resembling
shavings of steel or ebony-wood: the curly crest being arranged
on the crown in the form of a wig. Mr. Wallace and I first met
with this species, on ascending the Amazons, at the mouth of the
Solimoens; from that point it continues as a rather common bird
on the terra firma, at least on the south side of the river as
far as Fonte Boa, but I did not hear of its being found further
to the west. It appears in large flocks in the forests near Ega
in May and June, when it has completed its moult. I did not find
these bands congregated at fruit-trees, but always wandering
through the forest, hopping from branch to branch among the lower
trees, and partly concealed among the foliage. None of the
Arassaris, to my knowledge, make a yelping noise like that
uttered by the larger Toucans (Ramphastos); the notes of the
curl-crested species are very singular, resembling the croaking
of frogs. I had an amusing adventure one day with these birds. I
had shot one from a rather high tree in a dark glen in the
forest, and entered the thicket where the bird had fallen to
secure my booty. It was only wounded, and on my attempting to
seize it, set up a loud scream. In an instant, as if by magic,
the shady nook seemed alive with these birds, although there was
certainly none visible when I entered the jungle. They descended
towards me, hopping from bough to bough, some of them swinging on
the loops and cables of woody lianas, and all croaking and
fluttering their wings like so many furies. If I had had a long
stick in my hand I could have knocked several of them over. After
killing the wounded one, I began to prepare for obtaining more
specimens and punishing the viragos for their boldness; but the
screaming of their companion having ceased, they remounted the
trees, and before I could reload, every one of them had
disappeared.

Insects.--Upwards of 7000 species of insects were found in the
neighbourhood of Ega. I must confine myself in this place to a
few remarks on the order Lepidoptera, and on the ants, several
kinds of which, found chiefly on the Upper Amazons, exhibit the
most extraordinary instincts.

I found about 550 distinct species of butterflies at Ega. Those
who know a little of Entomology will be able to form some idea of
the riches of the place in this department, when I mention that
eighteen species of true Papilio (the swallow-tail genus) were
found within ten minutes' walk of my house. No fact could speak
more plainly for the surpassing exuberance of the vegetation, the
varied nature of the land, the perennial warmth and humidity of
the climate. But no description can convey an adequate notion of
the beauty and diversity in form and colour of this class of
insects in the neighbourhood of Ega. I paid special attention to
them, having found that this tribe was better adapted than almost
any other group of animals or plants to furnish facts in
illustration of the modifications which all species undergo in
nature, under changed local conditions. This accidental
superiority is owing partly to the simplicity and distinctness of
the specific character of the insects, and partly to the facility
with which very copious series of specimens can be collected and
placed side by side for comparison. The distinctness of the
specific characters is due probably to the fact that all the
superficial signs of change in the organisation are exaggerated,
and made unusually plain by affecting the framework, shape, and
colour of the wings, which, as many anatomists believe, are
magnified extensions of the skin around the breathing orifices of
the thorax of the insects. These expansions are clothed with
minute feathers or scales,  in regular patterns, which
vary in accordance with the slightest change in the conditions to
which the species are exposed. It may be said, therefore, that on
these expanded membranes Nature writes, as on a tablet, the story
of the modifications of species, so truly do all changes of the
organisation register themselves thereon. Moreover, the same
colour-patterns of the wings generally show, with great
regularity, the degrees of blood-relationship of the species. As
the laws of Nature must be the same for all beings, the
conclusions furnished by this group of insects must be applicable
to the whole organic world; therefore, the study of butterflies--
creatures selected as the types of airiness and frivolity--
instead of being despised, will some day be valued as one of the
most important branches of Biological science.

Before proceeding to describe the ants, a few remarks may be made
on the singular cases and cocoons woven by the caterpillars of
certain moths found at Ega. The first that may be mentioned is
one of the most beautiful examples of insect workmanship I ever
saw. It is a cocoon, about the size of a sparrow's egg, woven by
a caterpillar in broad meshes of either buff or rose-
silk, and is frequently seen in the narrow alleys of the forest,
suspended from the extreme tip of an outstanding leaf by a strong
silken thread five or six inches in length. It forms a very
conspicuous object, hanging thus in mid-air. The glossy threads
with which it is knitted are stout, and the structure is
therefore, not liable to be torn by the beaks of insectivorous
birds, while its pendulous position makes it doubly secure
against their attacks, the apparatus giving way when they peck at
it. There is a small orifice at each end of the egg-shaped bag,
to admit of the escape of the moth when it changes from the
little chrysalis which sleeps tranquilly in its airy cage. The
moth is of a dull slatey colour, and belongs to the Lithosiide
group of the silk-worm family (Bombycidae). When the caterpillar
begins its work, it lets itself down from the tip of the leaf
which it has chosen by spinning a thread of silk, the thickness
of which it slowly increases as it descends. Having given the
proper length to the cord, it proceeds to weave its elegant bag,
placing itself in the centre and spinning rings of silk at
regular intervals, connecting them at the same time by means of
cross threads - so that the whole, when finished, forms a loose
web, with quadrangular meshes of nearly equal size throughout.
The task occupies about four days: when finished, the enclosed
caterpillar becomes sluggish, its skin shrivels and cracks, and
there then remains a motionless chrysalis of narrow shape,
leaning against the sides of its silken cage.

Many other kinds are found at Ega belonging to the same cocoon-
weaving family, some of which differ from the rest in their
caterpillars possessing the art of fabricating cases with
fragments of wood or leaves, in which they live secure from all
enemies while they are feeding and growing. I saw many species of
these; some of them knitted together, with fine silken threads,
small bits of stick, and so made tubes similar to those of
caddice-worms; others (Saccophora) chose leaves for the same
purpose, forming with them an elongated bag open at both ends,
and having the inside lined with a thick web. The tubes of full-
grown caterpillars of Saccophora are two inches in length, and it
is at this stage of growth that I have generally seen them. They
feed on the leaves of Melastoniae, and as in crawling, the weight
of so large a dwelling would be greater than the contained
caterpillar could sustain, the insect attaches the case by one or
more threads to the leaves or twigs near which it is feeding.

Foraging Ants--Many confused statements have been published in
books of travel, and copied in Natural History works, regarding
these ants, which appear to have been confounded with the Sauba,
a sketch of whose habits has been given in the first chapter of
this work. The Sauba is a vegetable feeder, and does not attack
other animals; the accounts that have been published regarding
carnivorous ants which hunt in vast armies, exciting terror
wherever they go, apply only to the Ecitons, or foraging ants, a
totally different group of this tribe of insects. The Ecitons are
called Tauoca by the Indians, who are always on the look-out for
their armies when they traverse the forest, so as to avoid being
attacked. I met with ten distinct species of them, nearly all of
which have a different system of marching; eight were new to
science when I sent them to England. Some are found commonly in
every part of the country, and one is peculiar to the open campos
of Santarem; but, as nearly all the species are found together at
Ega, where the forest swarmed with their armies, I have left an
account of the habits of the whole genus for this part of my
narrative. The Ecitons resemble, in their habits, the Driver ants
of Tropical Africa; but they have no close relationship with them
in structure, and indeed belong to quite another sub-group of the
ant-tribe.

Like many other ants, the communities of Ecitons are composed,
besides males and females, of two classes of workers, a large-
headed (worker-major) and a small-headed (worker-minor) class.
the large-heads have, in some species, greatly lengthened jaws,
the small-heads have jaws always of the ordinary shape; but the
two classes are not sharply-defined in structure and function,
except in two of the species. There is in all of them a little
difference among the workers regarding the size of the head; but
in some species this is not sufficient to cause a separation into
classes, with division of labour; in others, the jaws are so
monstrously lengthened in the worker-majors, that they are
incapacitated from taking part in the labours which the worker-
minors perform; and again, in others the difference is so great
that the distinction of classes becomes complete, one acting the
part of soldiers, and the other that of workers. The peculiar
feature in the habits of the Eciton genus is their hunting for
prey in regular bodies, or armies. It is this which chiefly
distinguishes them from the genus of common red stinging-ants,
several species of which inhabit England, whose habit is to
search for food in the usual irregular manner. All the Ecitons
hunt in large organised bodies; but almost every species has its
own special manner of hunting.

Eciton rapax.--One of the foragers, Eciton rapax, the giant of
its genus, whose worker-majors are half-an-inch in length, hunts
in single file through the forest. There is no division into
classes amongst its workers, although the difference in size is
very great, some being scarcely one-half the length of others.
The head and jaws, however, are always of the same shape, and a
gradation in size is presented from the largest to the smallest,
so that all are able to take part in the common labours of the
colony. The chief employment of the species seems to be
plundering the nests of a large and defenseless ant of another
genus (Formica), whose mangled bodies I have often seen in their
possession as they were marching away. The armies of Eciton rapax
are never very numerous.

Eciton legionis.--Another species, E. legionis, agrees with E.
rapax in having workers not rigidly divisible into two classes;
but it is much smaller in size, not differing greatly, in this
respect, from our common English red ant (Myrmica rubra), which
it also resembles in colour. The Eciton legionis lives in open
places, and was seen only on the sandy campos of Santarem.  The
movement of its hosts were, therefore, much more easy to observe
than those of all other kinds, which inhabit solely the densest
thickets; its sting and bite, also, were less formidable than
those of other species. The armies of E. legionis consist of many
thousands of individuals, and move in rather broad columns. They
are just as quick to break line, on being disturbed, and attack
hurriedly and furiously any intruding object, as the other
Ecitons. The species is not a common one, and I seldom had good
opportunities to watch its habits. The first time I saw an army
was one evening near sunset. The column consisted of two trains
of ants, moving in opposite directions; one train empty-handed,
the other laden with the mangled remains of insects, chiefly
larvae and pupae of other ants. I had no difficulty in tracing
the line to the spot from which they were conveying their booty:
this was a low thicket; the Ecitons were moving rapidly about a
heap of dead leaves; but as the short tropical twilight was
deepening rapidly, and I had no wish to be benighted on the
lonely campos, I deferred further examination until the next day.

On the following morning, no trace of ants could be found near
the place where I had seen them the preceding day, nor were there
signs of insects of any description in the thicket, but at the
distance of eighty or one hundred yards, I came upon the same
army, engaged, evidently, on a razzia of a similar kind to that
of the previous evening, but requiring other resources of their
instinct, owing to the nature of the wound. They were eagerly
occupied on the face of an inclined bank of light earth, in
excavating mines, whence, from a depth of eight or ten inches,
they were extracting the bodies of a bulky species of ant, of the
genus Formica. It was curious to see them crowding around the
orifices of the mines, some assisting their comrades to lift out
the bodies of the Formicae, and others tearing them in pieces, on
account of their weight being too great for a single Eciton-- a
number of carriers seizing each a fragment, and carrying it off
down the <DW72>. On digging into the earth with a small trowel
near the entrances of the mines, I found the nests of the
Formicae, with grubs and cocoons, which the Ecitons were thus
invading, at a depth of about eight inches from the surface. The
eager freebooters rushed in as fast as I excavated, and seized
the ants in my fingers as I picked them out, so that I had some
difficulty in rescuing a few intact for specimens. In digging the
numerous mines to get at their prey, the little Ecitons seemed to
be divided into parties, one set excavating, and another set
carrying away the grains of earth. When the shafts became rather
deep, the mining parties had to climb up the sides each time they
wished to cast out a pellet of earth; but their work was
lightened for them by comrades, who stationed themselves at the
mouth of the shaft, and relieved them of their burthens, carrying
the particles, with an appearance of foresight which quite
staggered me, a sufficient distance from the edge of the hole to
prevent them from rolling in again. All the work seemed thus to
be performed by intelligent cooperation among the host of eager
little creatures, but still there was not a rigid division of
labour, for some of them, whose proceedings I watched, acted at
one time as carriers of pellets, and at another as miners, and
all shortly afterwards assumed the office of conveyors of the
spoil.

In about two hours, all the nests of Formicae were rifled, though
not completely, of their contents, and I turned towards the army
of Ecitons, which were carrying away the mutilated remains. For
some distance there were many separate lines of them moving along
the <DW72> of the bank-- but a short distance off, these all
converged, and then formed one close and broad column, which
continued for some sixty or seventy yards, and terminated at one
of those large termitariums or hillocks of white ants which are
constructed of cemented material as hard as stone. The broad and
compact column of ants moved up the steep sides of the hillock in
a continued stream; many, which had hitherto trotted along empty-
handed, now turned to assist their comrades with their heavy
loads, and the whole descended into a spacious gallery or mine,
opening on the top of the termitarium. I did not try to reach the
nest, which I supposed to lie at the bottom of the broad mine,
and therefore, in the middle of the base of the stony hillock.

Eciton drepanophora.--The commonest species of foraging ants are
the Eciton hamata and E. drepanophora, two kinds which resemble
each other so closely that it requires attentive examination to
distinguish them; yet their armies never intermingle, although
moving in the same woods and often crossing each other's tracks.
The two classes of workers look, at first sight, quite distinct,
on account of the wonderful amount of difference between the
largest individuals of the one, and the smallest of the other.
There are dwarfs not more than one-fifth of an inch in length,
with small heads and jaws, and giants half an inch in length with
monstrously enlarged head and jaws, all belonging to the same
brood. There is not, however, a distinct separation of classes,
individuals existing which connect together the two extremes.
These Ecitons are seen in the pathways of the forest at all
places on the banks of the Amazons, travelling in dense columns
of countless thousands. One or other of them is sure to be met
with in a woodland ramble, and it is to them, probably, that the
stories we read in books on South America apply, of ants clearing
houses of vermin, although I heard of no instance of their
entering houses, their ravages being confined to the thickest
parts of the forest.

When the pedestrian falls in with a train of these ants, the
first signal given him is a twittering and restless movement of
small flocks of plain- birds (ant-thrushes) in the
jungle. If this be disregarded until he advances a few steps
farther, he is sure to fall into trouble, and find himself
suddenly attacked by numbers of the ferocious little creatures.
They swarm up his legs with incredible rapidity, each one driving
his pincer-like jaws into his skin, and with the purchase thus
obtained, doubling in its tail, and stinging with all its might.
There is no course left but to run for it; if he is accompanied
by natives they will be sure to give the alarm, crying "Tauoca!"
and scampering at full speed to the other end of the column of
ants. The tenacious insects who have secured themselves to his
legs then have to be plucked off one by one, a task which is
generally not accomplished without pulling them in twain, and
leaving heads and jaws sticking in the wounds.

The errand of the vast ant-armies is plunder, as in the case of
Eciton legionis; but from their moving always amongst dense
thickets, their proceedings are not so easy to observe as in that
species. Wherever they move, the whole animal world is set in
commotion, and every creature tries to get out of their way. But
it is especially the various tribes of wingless insects that have
cause for fear, such as heavy-bodied spiders, ants of other
species, maggots, caterpillars, larvae of cockroaches and so
forth, all of which live under fallen leaves, or in decaying
wood. The Ecitons do not mount very high on trees, and therefore
the nestlings of birds are not much incommoded by them. The mode
of operation of these armies, which I ascertained only after
long-continued observation, is as follows: the main column, from
four to six deep, moves forward in a given direction, clearing
the ground of all animal matter dead or alive, and throwing off
here and there a thinner column to forage for a short time on the
flanks of the main army, and re-enter it again after their task
is accomplished. If some very rich place be encountered anywhere
near the line of march, for example, a mass of rotten wood
abounding in insect larvae, a delay takes place, and a very
strong force of ants is concentrated upon it. The excited
creatures search every cranny and tear in pieces all the large
grubs they drag to light. It is curious to see them attack wasps'
nests, which are sometimes built on low shrubs. They gnaw away
the papery covering to get at the larvae, pupae, and newly-
hatched wasps, and cut everything to tatters, regardless of the
infuriated owners which are flying about them. In bearing off
their spoil in fragments, the pieces are apportioned to the
carriers with some degree of regard to fairness of load: the
dwarfs taking the smallest pieces, and the strongest fellows with
small heads the heaviest portions. Sometimes two ants join
together in carrying one piece, but the worker-majors, with their
unwieldy and distorted jaws, are incapacitated from taking any
part in the labour. The armies never march far on a beaten path,
but seem to prefer the entangled thickets where it is seldom
possible to follow them. I have traced an army sometimes for half
a mile or more, but was never able to find one that had finished
its day's course and returned to its hive. Indeed, I never met
with a hive; whenever the Ecitons were seen, they were always on
the march.

I thought one day, at Villa Nova, that I had come upon a
migratory horde of this indefatigable ant. The place was a tract
of open ground near the river side, just outside the edge of the
forest, and surrounded by rocks and shrubbery. A dense column of
Ecitons was seen extending from the rocks on one side of the
little haven, traversing the open space, and ascending the
opposite declivity. The length of the procession was from sixty
to seventy yards, and yet neither van nor rear was visible. All
were moving in one and the same direction, except a few
individuals on the outside of the column, which were running
rearward, trotting along for a short distance, and then turning
again to follow the same course as the main body. But these
rearward movements were going on continually from one end to the
other of the line, and there was every appearance of there being
a means of keeping up a common understanding amongst all the
members of the army, for the retrograding ants stopped very often
for a moment to touch one or other of their onward-moving
comrades with their antennae-- a proceeding which has been
noticed in other ants, and supposed to be their mode of conveying
intelligence. When I interfered with the column or abstracted an
individual from it, news of the disturbance was very quickly
communicated to a distance of several yards towards the rear, and
the column at that point commenced retreating. All the small-
headed workers carried in their jaws a little cluster of white
maggots, which I thought at the time, might be young larvae of
their own colony, but afterwards found reason to conclude were
the grubs of some other species whose nests they had been
plundering, the procession being most likely not a migration, but
a column on a marauding expedition.

The position of the large-headed individuals in the marching
column was rather curious. There was one of these extraordinary
fellows to about a score of the smaller class. None of them
carried anything in their mouths, but all trotted along empty-
handed and outside the column, at pretty regular intervals from
each other, like subaltern officers in a marching regiment of
soldiers. It was easy to be tolerably exact in this observation,
for their shining white heads made them very conspicuous amongst
the rest, bobbing up and down as the column passed over the
inequalities of the road. I did not see them change their
position, or take any notice of their small-headed comrades
marching in the column, and when I disturbed the line, they did
not prance forth or show fight so eagerly as the others. These
large-headed members of the community have been considered by
some authors as a soldier class, like the similarly-armed caste
in termites -- but I found no proof of this, at least in the
present species, as they always seemed to be rather less
pugnacious than the worker-minors, and their distorted jaws
disabled them from fastening on a plane surface like the skin of
an attacking animal. I am inclined, however, to think that they
may act, in a less direct way, as protectors of the community,
namely, as indigestible morsels to the flocks of ant-thrushes
which follow the marching columns of these Ecitons, and are the
most formidable enemies of the species. It is possible that the
hooked and twisted jaws of the large-headed class may be
effective weapons of annoyance when in the gizzards or stomachs
of these birds, but I unfortunately omitted to ascertain whether
this was really the fact.

The life of these Ecitons is not all work, for I frequently saw
them very leisurely employed in a way that looked like
recreation. When this happened, the place was always a sunny nook
in the forest. The main column of the army and the branch
columns, at these times, were in their ordinary relative
positions; but, instead of pressing forward eagerly, and
plundering right and left, they seemed to have been all smitten
with a sudden fit of laziness. Some were walking slowly about,
others were brushing their antennae with their forefeet; but the
drollest sight was their cleaning one another. Here and there an
ant was seen stretching forth first one leg and then another, to
be brushed or washed by one or more of its comrades, who
performed the task by passing the limb between the jaws and the
tongue,and finishing by giving the antennae a friendly wipe. It
was a curious spectacle, and one well calculated to increase
one's amazement at the similarity between the instinctive actions
of ants and the acts of rational beings, a similarity which must
have been brought about by two different processes of development
of the primary qualities of mind. The actions of these ants
looked like simple indulgence in idle amusement. Have these
little creatures, then, an excess of energy beyond  what is
required for labours absolutely necessary to the welfare of their
species, and do they thus expend it in mere sportiveness, like
young lambs or kittens, or in idle whims like rational beings? It
is probable that these hours of relaxation and cleaning may be
indispensable to the effective performance of their harder
labours, but while looking at them, the conclusion that the ants
were engaged merely in play was irresistible.

Eciton praedator.--This is a small dark-reddish species, very
similar to the common red stinging-ant of England. It differs
from all other Ecitons in its habit of hunting, not in columns,
but in dense phalanxes consisting of myriads of individuals, and
was first met with at Ega, where it is very common. Nothing in
insect movements is more striking than the rapid march of these
large and compact bodies. Wherever they pass all the rest of the
animal world is thrown into a state of alarm. They stream along
the ground and climb to the summits of all the lower trees,
searching every leaf to its apex, and whenever they encounter a
mass of decaying vegetable matter, where booty is plentiful, they
concentrate, like other Ecitons, all their forces upon it, the
dense phalanx of shining and quickly-moving bodies, as it spreads
over the surface, looking like a flood of dark-red liquid. They
soon penetrate every part of the confused heap, and then,
gathering together again in marching order, onward they move. All
soft-bodied and inactive insects fall an easy prey to them, and,
like other Ecitons, they tear their victims in pieces for
facility of carriage. A phalanx of this species, when passing
over a tract of smooth ground, occupies a space of from four to
six square yards; on examining the ants closely they are seen to
move, not altogether in one straightforward direction, but in
variously spreading contiguous columns, now separating a little
from the general mass, now re-uniting with it. The margins of the
phalanx spread out at times like a cloud of skirmishers from the
flanks of an army. I was never able to find the hive of this
species.

Blind Ecitons.--I will now give a short account of the blind
species of Eciton. None of the foregoing kinds have eyes of the
facetted or compound structure such as are usual in insects, and
which ordinary ants (Formica) are furnished with, but all are
provided with organs of vision composed each of a single lens.
Connecting them with the utterly blind species of the genus, is a
very stout-limbed Eciton, the E. crassicornis, whose eyes are
sunk in rather deep sockets. This ant goes on foraging
expeditions like the rest of its tribe, and attacks even the
nests of other stinging species (Myrmica), but it avoids the
light, moving always in concealment under leaves and fallen
branches. When its columns have to cross a cleared space, the
ants construct a temporary covered way with granules of earth,
arched over, and holding together mechanically; under this, the
procession passes in secret, the indefatigable creatures
repairing their arcade as fast as breaches are made in it.

Next in order comes the Eciton vastator, which has no eyes,
although the collapsed sockets are plainly visible; and, lastly,
the Eciton erratica, in which both sockets and eyes have
disappeared, leaving only a faint ring to mark the place where
they are usually situated. The armies of E. vastator and E.
erratica move, as far as I could learn, wholly under covered
roads-- the ants constructing them gradually but rapidly as they
advance. The column of foragers pushes forward step by step under
the protection of these covered passages, through the thickets,
and upon reaching a rotting log, or other promising hunting-
ground, pour into the crevices in search of booty. I have traced
their arcades, occasionally, for a distance of one or two hundred
yards; the grains of earth are taken from the soil over which the
column is passing, and are fitted together without cement. It is
this last-mentioned feature that distinguishes them from the
similar covered roads made by Termites, who use their glutinous
saliva to cement the grains together. The blind Ecitons, working
in numbers, build up simultaneously the sides of their convex
arcades, and contrive, in a surprising manner, to approximate
them and fit in the key-stones without letting the loose
uncemented structure fall to pieces. There was a very clear
division of labour between the two classes of neuters in these
blind species. The large-headed class, although not possessing
monstrously-lengthened jaws like the worker-majors in E. hamata
and E. drepanophora, are rigidly defined in structure from the
small-headed class, and act as soldiers, defending the working
community (like soldier Termites) against all comers. Whenever I
made a breach in one of their covered ways, all the ants
underneath were set in commotion, but the worker-minors remained
behind to repair the damage, while the large-heads issued forth
in a most menacing manner, rearing their heads and snapping their
jaws with an expression of the fiercest rage and defiance.


CHAPTER XIII

EXCURSIONS BEYOND EGA

Steamboat Travelling on the Amazons--Passengers--Tunantins--
Caishana Indians--The Jutahi--The Sapo--Maraua Indians--Fonte
Boa--Journey to St. Paulo--Tucuna Indians--Illness--Descent to
Para--Changes at Para--Departure for England

November 7th, 1856-Embarked on the Upper Amazons steamer, the
Tabatinga, for an excursion to Tunantins, a small semi-Indian
settlement, lying 240 miles beyond Ega. The Tabatinga is an iron
boat of about 170 tons burthen, built at Rio de Janeiro, and
fitted with engines of fifty horse-power. The saloon, with berths
on each side for twenty passengers, is above deck, and open at
both ends to admit a free current of air. The captain or
"commandante," was a lieutenant in the Brazilian navy, a man of
polished, sailor-like address, and a rigid disciplinarian-- his
name, Senor Nunes Mello Cardozo. I was obliged, as usual, to take
with me a stock of all articles of food, except meat and fish,
for the time I intended to be absent (three months); and the
luggage, including hammocks, cooking utensils, crockery, and so
forth, formed fifteen large packages. One bundle consisted of a
mosquito tent, an article I had not yet had occasion to use on
the river, but which was indispensable in all excursions beyond
Ega, every person, man, woman and child, requiring one, as
without it existence would be scarcely possible. My tent was
about eight feet long and five feet broad, and was made of coarse
calico in an oblong shape, with sleeves at each end through which
to pass the cords of a hammock. Under this shelter, which is
fixed up every evening before sundown, one can read and write, or
swing in one's hammock during the long hours which intervene
before bedtime, and feel one's sense of comfort increased by
having cheated the thirsty swarms of mosquitoes which fill the
chamber.

We were four days on the road. The pilot, a Mameluco of Ega, whom
I knew very well, exhibited a knowledge of the river and powers
of endurance which were quite remarkable. He stood all this time
at his post, with the exception of three or four hours in the
middle of each day, when he was relieved by a young man who
served as apprentice, and he knew the breadth and windings of the
channel, and the extent of all the yearly-shifting shoals from
the Rio <DW64> to Loreto, a distance of more than a thousand
miles. There was no slackening of speed at night, except during
the brief but violent storms which occasionally broke upon us,
and then the engines were stopped by the command of Lieutenant
Nunes, sometimes against the wish of the pilot. The nights were
often so dark that we passengers on the poop deck could not
discern the hardy fellow on the bridge, but the steamer drove on
at full speed, men being stationed on the look-out at the prow,
to watch for floating logs, and one man placed to pass orders to
the helmsman; the keel scraped against a sand-bank only once
during the passage.

The passengers were chiefly Peruvians, mostly thin, anxious,
Yankee-looking men, who were returning home to the cities of
Moyobamba and Chachapoyas, on the Andes, after a trading trip to
the Brazilian towns on the Atlantic seaboard, whither they had
gone six months previously, with cargoes of Panama hats to
exchange for European wares. These hats are made of the young
leaflets of a palm tree, by the Indians and half-caste people who
inhabit the eastern parts of Peru. They form almost the only
article of export from Peru by way of the Amazons, but the money
value is very great compared with the bulk of the goods, as the
hats are generally of very fine quality, and cost from twelve
shillings to six pounds sterling each; some traders bring down
two or three thousand pounds' worth, folded into small compass in
their trunks. The return cargoes consist of hardware, crockery,
glass, and other bulky or heavy goods, but not of cloth, which,
being of light weight, can be carried across the Andes from the
ports on the Pacific to the eastern parts of Peru. All kinds of
European cloth can be obtained at a much cheaper rate by this
route than by the more direct way of the Amazons, the import
duties of Peru being, as I was told, lower than those of Brazil,
and the difference not being counter-balanced by increased
expense of transit, on account of weight, over the passes of the
Andes.

There was a great lack of amusement on board. The table was very
well served, professed cooks being employed in these Amazonian
steamers, and fresh meat insured by keeping on deck a supply of
live bullocks and fowls, which are purchased whenever there is an
opportunity on the road. The river scenery was similar to that
already described as presented between the Rio <DW64> and Ega:
long reaches of similar aspect, with two long, low lines of
forest, varied sometimes with cliffs of red clay, appearing one
after the other. an horizon of water and sky on some days
limiting the view both up stream and down. We travelled, however,
always near the bank, and, for my part, I was never weary of
admiring the picturesque grouping and variety of trees, and the
varied mantles of creeping plants which clothed the green wall of
forest every step of the way. With the exception of a small
village called Fonte Boa, retired from the main river, where we
stopped to take in firewood, and which I shall have to speak of
presently, we saw no human habitation the whole of the distance.
The mornings were delightfully cool; coffee was served at
sunrise, and a bountiful breakfast at ten o'clock; after that
hour the heat rapidly increased until it became almost
unbearable. How the engine-drivers and firemen stood it without
exhaustion I cannot tell; it diminished after four o'clock in the
afternoon, about which time dinner-bell rung, and the evenings
were always pleasant.

November 11th to 30th.--The Tunantins is a sluggish black-water
stream, about sixty miles in length, and towards its mouth from
100 to 200 yards in breadth. The vegetation on its banks has a
similar aspect to that of the Rio <DW64>, the trees having small
foliage of a sombre hue, and the dark piles of greenery resting
on the surface of the inky water. The village is situated on the
left bank, about a mile from the mouth of the river, and contains
twenty habitations, nearly all of which are merely hovels, built
of lath-work and mud. The short streets, after rain, are almost
impassable on account of the many puddles, and are choked up with
weeds--leguminous shrubs, and scarlet-flowered asclepias. The
atmosphere in such a place, hedged in as it is by the lofty
forest, and surrounded by swamps, is always close, warm, and
reeking; and the hum and chirp of insects and birds cause a
continual din. The small patch of weedy ground around the village
swarms with plovers, sandpipers, striped herons, and scissor-
tailed fly-catchers; and alligators are always seen floating
lazily on the surface of the river in front of the houses.

On landing, I presented myself to Senor Paulo Bitancourt, a good-
natured half-caste, director of Indians of the neighbouring river
Issa, who quickly ordered a small house to be cleared for me.
This exhilarating abode contained only one room, the walls of
which were disfigured by large and ugly patches of mud, the work
of white ants. The floor was the bare earth, dirty and damp, the
wretched chamber was darkened by a sheet of calico being
stretched over the windows, a plan adopted here to keep out the
Pium-flies, which float about in all shady places like thin
clouds of smoke, rendering all repose impossible in the daytime
wherever they can effect an entrance. My baggage was soon landed,
and before the steamer departed I had taken gun, insect-net, and
game-bag, to make a preliminary exploration of my new locality.

I remained here nineteen days, and, considering the shortness of
the time, made a very good collection of monkeys, birds, and
insects. A considerable number of the species (especially of
insects) were different from those of the four other stations,
which I examined on the south side of the Solimoens, and as many
of these were "representative forms" [Species or races which take
the place of other allied species or races.] of others found on
the opposite banks of the broad river, I concluded that there
could have been no land connection between the two shores during,
at least, the recent geological period. This conclusion is
confirmed by the case of the Uakari monkeys, described in the
last chapter. All these strongly modified local races of insects
confined to one side of the Solimoens (like the Uakaris), are
such as have not been able to cross a wide treeless space such as
a river. The acquisition which pleased me most, in this place,
was a new species of butterfly (a Catagramma), which has since
been named C. excelsior, owing to its surpassing in size and
beauty all the previously-known species of its singularly
beautiful genus. The upper surface of the wings is of the richest
blue, varying in shade with the play of light, and on each side
is a broad curved stripe of an orange colour. It is a bold flyer,
and is not confined, as I afterwards found, to, the northern side
of the river, for I once saw a specimen amidst a number of
richly- butterflies, flying about the deck of the steamer
when we were anchored off Fonte Boa, 200 miles, lower down the
river.

With the exception of three Mameluco families and a stray
Portuguese trader, all the inhabitants of the village and
neighbourhood are semi-civilised Indians of the Shumana and Passe
tribes. The forests of the Tunantins, however, are inhabited by a
tribe of wild Indians called Caishanas, who resemble much, in
their social condition and manners, the debased Muras of the
Lower Amazons, and have, like them, shown no aptitude for
civilised life in any shape. Their huts commence at the distance
of an hour's walk from the village, along gloomy and narrow
forest paths. My first and only visit to a Caishana dwelling was
accidental. One day, having extended my walk further than usual,
and followed one of the forest-roads until it became a mere
picada, or hunters' track, I came suddenly upon a well-trodden
pathway, bordered on each side with Lycopodia of the most elegant
shapes, the tips of the fronds stretching almost like tendrils
down the little earthy <DW72>s which formed the edge of the path.
The road, though smooth, was narrow and dark, and in many places
blocked up by trunks of felled trees, which had been apparently
thrown across by the timid Indians on purpose to obstruct the way
to their habitations. Half-a-mile of this shady road brought me
to a small open space on the banks of a brook or creek, on the
skirts of which stood a conical hut with a very low doorway.
There was also an open shed, with stages made of split palm-
stems, and a number of large wooden troughs. Two or three dark-
skinned children, with a man and woman, were in the shed; but,
immediately on espying me, all of them ran to the hut, bolting
through the little doorway like so many wild animals scared into
their burrows. A few moments after, the man put his head out with
a look of great distrust; but, on my making the most friendly
gestures I could think of, he came forth with the children. They
were all smeared with black mud and paint; the only clothing of
the elders was a kind of apron made of the inner bark of the
sapucaya-tree, and the savage aspect of the man was heightened by
his hair hanging over his forehead to the eyes. I stayed about
two hours in the neighbourhood, the children gaining sufficient
confidence to come and help me to search for insects. The only
weapon used by the Caishanas is the blow-gun, and this is
employed only in shooting animals for food. They are not a
warlike people, like most of the neighbouring tribes on the
Japura and Issa.

The whole tribe of Caishanas does not exceed 400 souls in number.
None of them are baptised Indians, and they do not dwell in
villages, like the more advanced sections of the Tupi stock; but
each family has its own solitary hut. They are quite harmless, do
not practise tattooing, or perforate their ears and noses in any
way. Their social condition is of a low type, very little
removed, indeed, from that of the brutes living in the same
forests. They do not appear to obey any common chief, and I could
not make out that they had Pajes, or medicine-men, those rudest
beginnings of a priest class. Symbolical or masked dances, and
ceremonies in honour of the Jurupari, or demon, customs which
prevail among all the surrounding tribes, are unknown to the
Caishanas. There is among them a trace of festival keeping; but
the only ceremony used is the drinking of cashiri beer, and
fermented liquors made of Indian-corn, bananas, and so forth.
These affairs, however, are conducted in a degenerate style, for
they do not drink to intoxication, or sustain the orgies for
several days and nights in succession, like the Juris Passes, and
Tucunas. The men play a musical instrument, made of pieces of
stem of the arrow-grass cut in different lengths and arranged
like Pan-pipes. With this they wile away whole hours, lolling in
ragged, bast hammocks slung in their dark, smoky huts. The
Tunantins people say that the Caishanas have persecuted the wild
animals and birds to such an extent near their settlements that
there is now quite a scarcity of animal food. If they kill a
Toucan, it is considered an important event, and the bird is made
to serve as a meal for a score or more persons. They boil the
meat in earthenware kettles filled with Tucupi sauce, and eat it
with beiju, or mandioca-cakes. The women are not allowed to taste
of the meat, but forced to content themselves with sopping pieces
of cake in the liquor.

November 30th--I left Tunantins in a trading schooner of eighty
tons burthen belonging to Senor Batalha, a tradesman of Ega,
which had been out all the summer collecting produce, and was
commanded by a friend of mine, a young Paraense, named Francisco
Raiol. We arrived, on the 3rd of December, at the mouth of the
Jutahi, a considerable stream about half a mile broad, and
flowing with a very sluggish current. This is one of the series
of six rivers, from 400 to 1000 miles in length, which flow from
the southwest through unknown lands lying between Bolivia and the
Upper Amazons, and enter this latter river between the Madeira
and the Ucayali. We remained at anchor four days within the mouth
of the Sapo, a small tributary of the Jutahi flowing from the
southeast; Senor Raiol having to send an igarite to the Cupatana,
a large tributary some few miles farther up the river, to fetch a
cargo of salt-fish. During this time we made several excursions
in the montaria to various places in the neighbourhood. Our
longest trip was to some Indian houses, a distance of fifteen or
eighteen miles up the Sapo, a journey made with one Indian
paddler, and occupying a whole day. The stream is not more than
forty or fifty yards broad; its waters are darker in colour than
those of the Jutahi, and flow, as in all these small rivers,
partly under shade between two lofty walls of forest. We passed,
in ascending, seven habitations, most of them hidden in the
luxuriant foliage of the banks; their sites being known only by
small openings in the compact wall of forest, and the presence of
a canoe or two tied up in little shady ports. The inhabitants are
chiefly Indians of the Maraua tribe, whose original territory
comprised all the small by-streams lying between the Jutahi and
the Jurua, near the mouths of both these great tributaries. They
live in separate families or small hordes, have no common chief,
and are considered as a tribe little disposed to adopt civilised
customs or be friendly with the whites. One of the houses
belonged to a Juri family, and we saw the owner, an erect, noble-
looking old fellow, tattooed, as customary with his tribe, in a
large patch over the middle of his face, fishing under the shade
of a colossal tree in his port with hook and line. He saluted us
in the usual grave and courteous manner of the better sort of
Indians as we passed by.

We reached the last house, or rather two houses, about ten
o'clock, and spent several hours there during the great heat of
midday. The houses, which stood. on a high clayey bank, were of
quadrangular shape, partly open like sheds, and partly enclosed
with rude mud-walls, forming one or more chambers. The
inhabitants, a few families of Marauas, comprising about thirty
persons, received us in a frank, smiling manner-- a reception
which may have been due to Senor Raiol being an old acquaintance
and somewhat of a favourite. None of them were tattooed; but the
men had great holes pierced in their earlobes, in which they
insert plugs of wood, and their lips were drilled with smaller
holes. One of the younger men, a fine strapping fellow nearly six
feet high, with a large aquiline nose, who seemed to wish to be
particularly friendly with me, showed me the use of these lip-
holes, by fixing a number of little white sticks in them, and
then twisting his mouth about and going through a pantomime to
represent defiance in the presence of an enemy. Nearly all the
people were disfigured by dark blotches on the skin, the effect
of a cutaneous disease very prevalent in this part of the
country. The face of one old man was completely blackened, and
looked as though it had been smeared with black lead, the
blotches having coalesced to form one large patch. Others were
simply mottled; the black spots were hard and rough, but not
scaly, and were margined with rings of a colour paler than the
natural hue of the skin.

I had seen many Indians and a few half-castes at Tunantins, and
afterwards saw others at Fonte Boa, blotched in the same way. The
disease would seem to be contagious, for I was told that a
Portuguese trader became disfigured with it after cohabiting some
years with an Indian woman. It is curious that, although
prevalent in many places on the Solimoens, no resident of Ega
exhibited signs of the disease: the early explorers of the
country, on noticing spotted skins to be very frequent in certain
localities, thought they were peculiar to a few tribes of
Indians. The younger children in these houses on the Sapo were
free from spots; but two or three of them, about ten years of
age, showed signs of their commencement in rounded yellowish
patches on the skin, and these appeared languid and sickly,
although the blotched adults seemed not to be affected in their
general health. A middle-aged half-caste at Fonte Boa told me he
had cured himself of the disorder by strong doses of
sarsaparilla; the black patches had caused the hair of his beard
and eyebrows to fall off, but it had grown again since his cure.

When my tall friend saw me, after dinner, collecting insects
along the paths near the houses, he approached, and, taking me by
the arm, led me to a mandioca shed, making signs, as he could
speak very little Tupi, that he had something to show. I was not
a little surprised when, having mounted the girao, or stage of
split palm-stems, and taken down an object transfixed to a post,
he exhibited, with an air of great mystery, a large chrysalis
suspended from a leaf, which he placed carefully in my hands,
saying, "Pana-pana curi " (Tupi: butterfly by-and-by). Thus I
found that the metamorphoses of insects were known to these
savages; but being unable to talk with my new friend, I could not
ascertain what ideas such a phenomenon had given rise to in his
mind. The good fellow did not leave my side during the remainder
of our stay; but, thinking apparently that I had come here for
information, he put himself to considerable trouble to give me
all he could. He made a quantity of Hypadu or Coca powder that I
might see the process; going about the task with much action and
ceremony, as though he were a conjuror performing some wonderful
trick.

We left these friendly people about four o'clock in the
afternoon, and in descending the umbrageous river, stopped, about
half-way down, at another house, built in one of the most
charming situations I had yet seen in this country. A clean,
narrow, sandy pathway led from the shady port to the house,
through a tract of forest of indescribable luxuriance. The
buildings stood on an eminence in the middle of a level cleared
space-- the firm sand soil, smooth as a floor, forming a broad
terrace around them. The owner was a semi-civilised Indian, named
Manoel; a dull, taciturn fellow, who, together with his wife and
children, seemed by no means pleased at being intruded on in
their solitude. The family must have been very industrious, for
the plantations were very extensive, and included a little of
almost all kinds of cultivated tropical productions: fruit trees,
vegetables, and even flowers for ornament. The silent old man had
surely a fine appreciation of the beauties of nature, for the
site he had chosen commanded a view of surprising magnificence
over the summits of the forest; and, to give finish to the
prospect, he had planted a large quantity of banana trees in the
foreground, thus concealing the charred and dead stumps which
would otherwise have marred the effect of the rolling sea of
greenery. The only information I could get out of Manoel was,
that large flocks of richly- birds came down in the fruit
season and despoiled his trees. The sun set over the treetops
before we left this little Eden, and the remainder of our journey
was made slowly and pleasantly, under the chequered shades of the
river banks, by the light of the moon.

December 7th--Arrived at Fonte Boa; a wretched, muddy, and
dilapidated village situated two or three miles within the mouth
of a narrow by-stream called the Cayhiar-hy, which runs almost as
straight as an artificial canal between the village and the main
Amazons. The character of the vegetation and soil here was
different from that of all other localities I had hitherto
examined; I had planned, therefore, to devote six weeks to the
place. Having written beforehand to one of the principal
inhabitants, Senor Venancio, a house was ready for me on landing.
The only recommendation of the dwelling was its coolness. It was,
in fact, rather damp; the plastered walls bore a crop of green
mold, and a slimy moisture oozed through the black, dirty floor;
the rooms were large, but lighted by miserable little holes in
place of windows. The village is built on a clayey plateau, and
the ruinous houses are arranged round a large square, which is so
choked up with tangled bushes that it is quite impassable, the
lazy inhabitants having allowed the fine open space to relapse
into jungle. The stiff clayey eminence is worn into deep gullies
which <DW72> towards the river, and the ascent from the port in
rainy weather is so slippery that one is obliged to crawl up to
the streets on all fours. A large tract of round behind the place
is clear of forest, but this, as well as the streets and gardens,
is covered with a dense, tough carpet of shrubs, having the same
wiry nature as our common heath. Beneath its deceitful covering
the soil is always moist and soft, and in the wet season the
whole is converted into a glutinous mud swamp. There is a very
pretty church in one corner of the square, but in the rainy
months of the year (nine out of twelve) the place of worship is
almost inaccessible to the inhabitants on account of the mud, the
only means of getting to it being by hugging closely the walls
and palings, and so advancing sideways step by step.

I remained in this delectable place until the 25th of January,
1857. Fonte Boa, in addition to its other amenities, has the
reputation throughout the country of being the headquarters of
mosquitoes, and it fully deserves the title. They are more
annoying in the houses by day than by night, for they swarm in
the dark and damp rooms, keeping, in the daytime, near the floor,
and settling by half-dozens together on the legs. At night the
calico tent is a sufficient protection; but this is obliged to be
folded every morning, and in letting it down before sunset, great
care is required to prevent even one or two of the tormentors
from stealing in beneath, their insatiable thirst for blood, and
pungent sting, making these enough to spoil all comfort. In the
forest the plague is much worse; but the forest-mosquito belongs
to a different species from that of the town, being much larger,
and having transparent wings; it is a little cloud that one
carries about one's person every step on a woodland ramble, and
their hum is so loud that it prevents one hearing well the notes
of birds. The town-mosquito has opaque speckled wings, a less
severe sting, and a silent way of going to work; the inhabitants
ought to be thankful the big, noisy fellows never come out of the
forest. In compensation for the abundance of mosquitoes, Fonte
Boa has no piums; there was, therefore, some comfort outside
one's door in the daytime; the comfort, however, was lessened by
their being scarcely any room in front of the house to sit down
or walk about, for, on our side of the square, the causeway was
only two feet broad, and to step over the boundary, formed by a
line of slippery stems of palms, was to sink up to the knees in a
sticky swamp.

Notwithstanding damp and mosquitoes, I had capital health, and
enjoyed myself much at Fonte Boa; swampy and weedy places being
generally more healthy than dry ones in the Amazons, probably
owing to the absence of great radiation of heat from the ground.
The forest was extremely rich and picturesque, although the soil
was everywhere clayey and cold, and broad pathways threaded it
for many a mile over hill and dale. In every hollow flowed a
sparkling brook, with perennial and crystal waters. The margins
of these streams were paradises of leafiness and verdure; the
most striking feature being the variety of ferns, with immense
leaves, some terrestrial, others climbing over trees, and two, at
least, arborescent. I saw here some of the largest trees I had
yet seen; there was one especially, a cedar, whose colossal trunk
towered up for more than a hundred feet, straight as an arrow; I
never saw its crown, which was lost to view, from below, beyond
the crowd of lesser trees which surrounded it. Birds and monkeys
in this glorious forest were very abundant; the bear-like
Pithecia hirsuta being the most remarkable of the monkeys, and
the Umbrella Chatterer and Curl-crested Toucans amongst the most
beautiful of the birds. The Indians and half-castes of the
village have made their little plantations, and built huts for
summer residence on the banks of the rivulets, and my rambles
generally terminated at one or other of these places. The people
were always cheerful and friendly, and seemed to be glad when I
proposed to join them at their meals, contributing the contents
of my provision-bag to the dinner, and squatting down among them
on the mat.

The village was formerly a place of more importance than it now
is, a great number of Indians belonging to the most industrious
tribes, Shumanas, Passes, and Cambevas, having settled on the
site and adopted civilised habits, their industry being directed
by a few whites, who seem to have been men of humane views as
well as enterprising traders. One of these old employers, Senor
Guerreiro, a well-educated Paraense, was still trading on the
Amazons when I left the country in 1859: he told me that forty
years previously Fonte Boa was a delightful place to live in. The
neighbourhood was then well cleared, and almost free from
mosquitoes, and the Indians were orderly, industrious, and happy.
What led to the ruin of the settlement was the arrival of several
Portuguese and Brazilian traders of a low class, who in their
eagerness for business taught the easy-going Indians all kinds of
trickery and immorality. They enticed the men and women away from
their old employers, and thus broke up the large establishments,
compelling the principals to take their capital to other places.
At the time of my visit there were few pure-blood Indians at
Fonte Boa, and no true whites. The inhabitants seemed to be
nearly all Mamelucos, and were a loose-living, rustic, plain-
spoken and ignorant set of people. There was no priest or
schoolmaster within 150 miles, and had not been any for many
years: the people seemed to be almost without government of any
kind, and yet crime and deeds of violence appeared to be of very
rare occurrence. The principal man of the village, one Senor
Justo, was a big, coarse, energetic fellow, sub-delegado of
police, and the only tradesman who owned a large vessel running
directly between Fonte Boa and Para. He had recently built a
large house, in the style of middle-class dwellings of towns,
namely, with brick floors and tiled roof, the bricks and tiles
having been brought from Para, 1500 miles distant, the nearest
place where they are manufactured in surplus. When Senor Justo
visited me he was much struck with the engravings in a file of
Illustrated London News, which lay on my table. It was impossible
to resist his urgent entreaties to let him have some of them, "to
look at," so one day he carried off a portion of the papers on
loan. A fortnight afterwards, on going to request him to return
them, I found the engravings had been cut out, and stuck all over
the newly whitewashed walls of his chamber, many of them upside
down. He thought a room thus decorated with foreign views would
increase his importance among his neighbours, and when I yielded
to his wish to keep them, was boundless in demonstrations of
gratitude, ending by shipping a boat-load of turtles for my use
at Ega.

These neglected and rude villagers still retained many religious
practices which former missionaries or priests had taught them.
The ceremony which they observed at Christmas, like that
described as practised by <DW64>s in a former chapter, was very
pleasing for its simplicity, and for the heartiness with which it
was conducted. The church was opened, dried, and swept clean a
few days before Christmas Eve, and on the morning all the women
and children of the village were busy decorating it with festoons
of leaves and wild flowers. Towards midnight it was illuminated
inside and out with little oil lamps, made of clay, and the image
of the "menino Deus," or Child-God, in its cradle, was placed
below the altar, which was lighted up with rows of wax candles,
very lean ones, but the best the poor people could afford. All
the villagers assembled soon afterwards, dressed in their best,
he women with flowers in their hair, and a few simple hymns,
totally irrelevant to the occasion, but probably the only ones
known by them, were sung kneeling; an old half-caste, with black-
spotted face, leading off the tunes. This finished, the
congregation rose, and then marched in single file up one side of
the church and down the other, singing together a very pretty
marching chorus, and each one, on reaching the little image,
stooping to kiss the end of a ribbon which was tied round its
waist. Considering that the ceremony was got up of their own free
will, and at considerable expense, I thought it spoke well for
the good intentions and simplicity of heart of these poor,
neglected villagers.

I left Fonte Boa, for Ega, on the 25th of January, making the
passage by steamer, down the middle of the current, in sixteen
hours. The sight of the clean and neat little town, with its open
spaces, close-cropped grass, broad lake, and white sandy shores,
had a most exhilarating effect, after my trip into the wilder
parts of the country. The district between Ega and Loreto, the
first Peruvian village on the river, is, indeed, the most remote,
thinly-peopled, and barbarous of the whole line of the Amazons,
from ocean to ocean. Beyond Loreto, signs of civilisation, from
the side of the Pacific, begin to be numerous, and, from Ega
downwards, the improvement is felt from the side of the Atlantic.

September 5th, 1857--Again embarked on the Tabatinga, this time
for a longer excursion than the last, namely to St. Paulo de
Olivenca, a village higher up than any I had yet visited, being
260 miles distant, in a straight line, from Ega, or about 400
miles following the bends of the river.

The waters were now nearly at their lowest point; but this made
no difference to the rate of travelling, night or day. Several of
the Parana mirims, or by-channels, which the steamer threads in
the season of full-water, to save a long circuit, were now dried
up, their empty beds looking like deep sandy ravines in the midst
of the thick forest. The large sand-islands, and miles of sandy
beach, were also uncovered, and these, with the swarms of large
aquatic birds; storks, herons, ducks, waders, and spoon-bills,
which lined their margins in certain places, made the river view
much more varied and animated than it is in the season of the
flood. Alligators of large size were common near the shores,
lazily floating, and heedless of the passing steamer. The
passengers amused themselves by shooting at them from the deck
with a double-barrelled rifle we had on board. The sign of a
mortal hit was the monster turning suddenly over, and remaining
floating, with its white belly upwards. Lieutenant Nunes wished
to have one of the dead animals on board, for the purpose of
opening the abdomen, and, if a male, extracting a part which is
held in great estimation among Brazilians as a "remedio," charm
or medicine. The steamer was stopped, and a boat sent, with four
strong men, to embark the beast; the body, however, was found too
heavy to be lifted into the boat; so a rope was passed round it,
and the hideous creature towed alongside, and hoisted on deck by
means of the crane, which was rigged for the purpose. It had
still some sparks of life, and when the knife was applied, lashed
its tail, and opened its enormous jaws, sending the crowd of
bystanders flying in all directions. A blow with a hatchet on the
crown of the head gave him his quietus at last. The length of the
animal was fifteen feet; but this statement can give but an
imperfect idea of its immense bulk and weight. The numbers of
turtles which were seen swimming in quiet shoaly bays passed on
the road, also gave us much amusement. They were seen by dozens
ahead, with their snouts peering above the surface of the water;
and, on the steamer approaching, turning round to stare, but not
losing confidence till the vessel had nearly passed, when they
appeared to be suddenly smitten with distrust, diving like ducks
under the stream.

We had on board, among our deck-passengers, a middle-aged Indian,
of the Juri tribe; a short, thickset man, with features
resembling much those of the late Daniel O'Connell. His name was
Caracara-i (Black Eagle), and his countenance seemed permanently
twisted into a grim smile, the effect of which was heightened by
the tattooed marks--a blue rim to the mouth, with a diagonal
pointed streak from each corner towards the ear. He was dressed
in European-style black hat, coat, and trousers--looking very
uncomfortable in the dreadful heat which, it is unnecessary to
say, exists on board a steamer, under a vertical sun, during mid-
day hours. This Indian was a man of steady resolution, ambitious
and enterprising; very rare qualities in the race to which he
belonged, weakness of resolution being one of the fundamental
defects in the Indian character. He was now on his return home to
the banks of the Issa from Para, whither he had been to sell a
large quantity of sarsaparilla that he had collected, with the
help of a number of Indians, whom he induces, or forces, to work
for him. One naturally feels inclined to know what ideas such a
favourable specimen of the Indian race may have acquired after so
much experience amongst civilised scenes. On conversing with our
fellow-passenger, I was greatly disappointed in him; he had seen
nothing, and thought of nothing, beyond what concerned his little
trading speculation, his mind being, evidently, what it had been
before, with regard to all higher subjects or general ideas, a
blank. The dull, mean, practical way of thinking of the Amazonian
Indians, and the absence of curiosity and speculative thought
which seems to be organic or confirmed in their character,
although they are improvable to a certain extent, make them, like
commonplace people everywhere, most uninteresting companions.
Caracara-i disembarked at Tunantins with his cargo, which
consisted of a considerable number of packages of European wares.

The river scenery about the mouth of the Japura is extremely
grand, and was the subject of remark among the passengers.
Lieutenant Nunes gave it as his opinion, that there was no
diminution of width or grandeur in the mighty stream up to this
point, a distance of 1500 miles from the Atlantic; and yet we did
not here see the two shores of the river on both sides at once;
lines of islands, or tracts of alluvial land, having by-channels
in the rear, intercepting the view of the northern mainland, and
sometimes also of the southern. Beyond the Issa, however, the
river becomes evidently narrower, being reduced to an average
width of about a mile; there were then no longer those
magnificent reaches, with blank horizons, which occur lower down.
We had a dark and rainy night after passing Tunantins, and the
passengers were all very uneasy on account of the speed at which
we were travelling, twelve miles an hour, with every plank
vibrating with the force of the engines. Many of them could not
sleep, myself among the number. At length, a little after
midnight, a sudden shout startled us: "Back her!" (English terms
being used in matters relating to steam-engines). The pilot
instantly sprung to the helm, and in a few moments we felt our
paddle-box brushing against the wall of forest into which we had
nearly driven headlong. Fortunately, the water was deep close up
to the bank. Early in the morning of the 10th of September we
anchored in the port of St. Paulo, after five days' quick
travelling from Ega.

St. Paulo is built on a high hill, on the southern bank of the
river. The hill is formed of the same Tabatinga clay, which
occurs at intervals over the whole valley of the Amazons, but
nowhere rises to so great an elevation as here, the height being
about 100 feet above the mean level of the river. The ascent from
the port is steep and slippery; steps and resting-places have
been made to lighten the fatigue of mounting, otherwise the
village would be almost inaccessible, especially to porters of
luggage and cargo, for there are no means of making a circuitous
road of more moderate <DW72>, the hill being steep on all sides,
and surrounded by dense forests and swamps. The place contains
about 500 inhabitants, chiefly half-castes and Indians of the
Tucuna and Collina tribes, who are very little improved from
their primitive state. The streets are narrow, and in rainy
weather inches deep in mud; many houses are of substantial
structure, but in a ruinous condition, and the place altogether
presents the appearance, like Fonte Boa, of having seen better
days. Signs of commerce, such as meet the eye at Ega, could
scarcely be expected in this remote spot, situate 1800 miles, or
seven months' round voyage by sailing-vessels, from Para, the
nearest market for produce. A very short experience showed that
the inhabitants were utterly debased, the few Portuguese and
other immigrants having, instead of promoting industry, adopted
the lazy mode of life of the Indians, spiced with the practice of
a few strong vices of their own introduction.

The head-man of the village, Senor Antonio Ribeiro, half-white
half-Tucuna, prepared a house for me on landing, and introduced
me to the principal people. The summit of the hill is grassy
table-land, of two or three hundred acres in extent. The soil is
not wholly clay, but partly sand and gravel; the village itself,
however, stands chiefly on clay, and the streets therefore after
heavy rains, become filled with muddy puddles. On damp nights the
chorus of frogs and toads which swarm in weedy back-yards creates
such a bewildering uproar that it is impossible to carry on a
conversation indoors except by shouting. My house was damper even
than the one I occupied at Fonte Boa, and this made it extremely
difficult to keep my collections from being spoilt by mould. But
the general humidity of the atmosphere in this part of the river
was evidently much greater than it is lower down; it appears to
increase gradually in ascending from the Atlantic to the Andes.
It was impossible at St. Paulo to keep salt for many days in a
solid state, which was not the case at Ega, when the baskets in
which it is contained were well wrapped in leaves. Six degrees
further westward, namely, at the foot of the Andes, the dampness
of the climate of the Amazonian forest region appears to reach
its acme, for Poeppig found at Chinchao that the most refined
sugar, in a few days, dissolved into syrup, and the best
gunpowder became liquid, even when enclosed in canisters. At St.
Paulo refined sugar kept pretty well in tin boxes, and I had no
difficulty in keeping my gunpowder dry in canisters, although a
gun loaded overnight could very seldom be fired off in the
morning.

The principal residents at St. Paulo were the priest, a white
from Para, who spent his days and most of his nights in gambling
and rum-drinking, corrupting the young fellows and setting the
vilest example to the Indians; the sub-delegado, an upright,
open-hearted, and loyal <DW64>, whom I have before mentioned,
Senor Jose Patricio; the Juiz de Paz, a half-caste named Geraldo,
and lastly, Senor Antonio Ribeiro, who was Director of the
Indians. Geraldo and Ribeiro were my near neighbours, but they
took offence at me after the first few days, because I would not
join them in their drinking bouts, which took place about every
third day. They used to begin early in the morning with Cashaca
mixed with grated ginger, a powerful drink, which used to excite
them almost to madness. Neighbour Geraldo, after these morning
potations, used to station himself opposite my house and rave
about foreigners, gesticulating in a threatening manner towards
me by the hour. After becoming sober in the evening, he usually
came to offer me the humblest apologies, driven to it, I believe,
by his wife, he himself being quite unconscious of this breach of
good manners. The wives of the St. Paulo worthies, however, were
generally as bad as their husbands; nearly all the women being
hard drinkers, and corrupt to the last degree. Wifebeating
naturally flourished under such a state of things. I found it
always best to lock myself indoors after sunset, and take no
notice of the thumps and screams which used to rouse the village
in different quarters throughout the night, especially at
festival times.

The only companionable man I found in the place, except Jose
Patricio, who was absent most part of the time, was the <DW64>
tailor of the village, a tall, thin, grave young man, named
Mestre Chico (Master Frank), whose acquaintance I had made at
Para several years previously. He was a free <DW64> by birth, but
had had the advantage of kind treatment in his younger days,
having been brought up by a humane and sensible man, one Captain
Basilio, of Pernambuco, his padrinho, or godfather. He neither
drank, smoked, nor gambled, and was thoroughly disgusted at the
depravity of all classes in this wretched little settlement,
which he intended to quit as soon as possible.

When he visited me at night he used to knock at my shutters in a
manner we had agreed on, it being necessary to guard against
admitting drunken neighbours, and we then spent the long evenings
most pleasantly, working and conversing. His manners were
courteous, and his talk well worth listening to, for the
shrewdness and good sense of his remarks. I first met Mestre
Chico at the house of an old negress of Para, Tia Rufina (Aunt
Rufina), who used to take charge of my goods when I was absent on
a voyage, and this affords me an opportunity of giving a few
further instances of the excellent qualities of free <DW64>s in a
country where they are not wholly condemned to a degrading
position by the pride or selfishness of the white race. This old
woman was born a slave, but, like many others in the large towns
of Brazil, she had been allowed to trade on her own account, as
market-woman, paying a fixed sum daily to her owner, and keeping
for herself all her surplus gains. In a few years she had saved
sufficient money to purchase her freedom, and that of her grown-
up son. This done, the old lady continued to strive until she had
earned enough to buy the house in which she lived, a considerable
property situated in one of the principal streets. When I
returned from the interior, after seven years' absence from Para,
I found she was still advancing in prosperity, entirely through
her own exertions (being a widow) and those of her son, who
continued, with the most regular industry, his trade as
blacksmith, and was now building a number of small houses on a
piece of unoccupied land attached to her property. I found these
and many other free <DW64>s most trustworthy people, and admired
the constancy of their friendships and the gentleness and
cheerfulness of their manners towards each other. They showed
great disinterestedness in their dealings with me, doing me many
a piece of service without a hint at remuneration; but this may
have been partly due to the name of Englishman, the knowledge of
our national generosity towards the African race being spread far
and wide amongst the Brazilian <DW64>s.

I remained at St. Paulo five months; five years would not have
been sufficient to exhaust the treasures of its neighbourhood in
Zoology and Botany. Although now a forest-rambler of ten years'
experience, the beautiful forest which surrounds this settlement
gave me as much enjoyment as if I had only just landed for the
first time in a tropical country. The plateau on which the
village is built extends on one side nearly a mile into the
forest, but on the other side the descent into the lowland begins
close to the streets; the hill sloping abruptly towards a boggy
meadow surrounded by woods, through which a narrow winding path
continues the <DW72> down to a cool shady glen, with a brook of
icy-cold water flowing at the bottom. At mid-day the vertical sun
penetrates into the gloomy depths of this romantic spot, lighting
up the leafy banks of the rivulet and its clean sandy margins,
where numbers of scarlet, green, and black tanagers and brightly-
 butterflies sport about in the stray beams. Sparkling
brooks, large and small, traverse the glorious forest in almost
every direction, and one is constantly meeting, while rambling
through the thickets, with trickling rills and bubbling springs,
so well-provided is the country with moisture. Some of the
rivulets flow over a sandy and pebbly bed, and the banks of all
are clothed with the most magnificent vegetation conceivable. I
had the almost daily habit, in my solitary walks, of resting on
the clean banks of these swift-flowing streams, and bathing for
an hour at a time in their bracing waters; hours which now remain
among my most pleasant memories. The broad forest roads continue,
as I was told, a distance of several days' journey into the
interior, which is peopled by Tucunas and other Indians, living
in scattered houses and villages nearly in their primitive state,
the nearest village lying about six miles from St. Paulo. The
banks of all the streams are dotted with palm-thatched dwellings
of Tucunas, all half-buried in the leafy wilderness, the
scattered families having chosen the coolest and shadiest nooks
for their abodes.

I frequently heard in the neighbourhood of these huts, the
"realejo" or organ bird (Cyphorhinus cantans), the most
remarkable songster, by far, of the Amazonian forests. When its
singular notes strike the ear for the first time, the impression
cannot be resisted that they are produced by a human voice. Some
musical boy must be gathering fruit in the thickets, and is
singing a few notes to cheer himself. The tones become more fluty
and plaintive; they are now those of a flageolet, and
notwithstanding the utter impossibility of the thing, one is for
the moment convinced that somebody is playing that instrument. No
bird is to be seen, however closely the surrounding trees and
bushes may be scanned, and yet the voice seems to come from the
thicket close to one's ears. The ending of the song is rather
disappointing. It begins with a few very slow and mellow notes,
following each other like the commencement of an air; one listens
expecting to hear a complete strain, but an abrupt pause occurs,
and then the song breaks down, finishing with a number of
clicking unmusical sounds like a piping barrel organ out of wind
and tune. I never heard the bird on the Lower Amazon, and very
rarely heard it even at Ega; it is the only songster which makes
an impression on the natives, who sometimes rest their paddles
whilst travelling in their small canoes, along the shady by-
streams, as if struck by the mysterious sounds.

The Tucuna Indians are a tribe resembling much the Shumanas,
Passes, Juris, and Mauhes in their physical appearance and
customs. They lead, like those tribes, a settled agricultural
life, each horde obeying a chief of more or less influence,
according to his energy and ambition, and possessing its paje or
medicine-man who fosters its superstitions; but, they are much
more idle and debauched than other Indians belonging to the
superior tribes. They are not so warlike and loyal as the
Mundurucus, although resembling them in many respects, nor have
they the slender figures, dignified mien, and gentle disposition
of the Passes; there are, however, no trenchant points of
difference to distinguish them from these highest of all the
tribes. Both men and women are tattooed, the pattern being
sometimes a scroll on each cheek, but generally rows of short
straight lines on the face. Most of the older people wear
bracelets, anklets, and garters of tapir-hide or tough bark; in
their homes they wear no other dress except on festival days,
when they ornament themselves with feathers or masked cloaks made
of the inner bark of a tree. They were very shy when I made my
first visits to their habitations in the forest, all scampering
off to the thicket when I approached, but on subsequent days they
became more familiar, and I found them a harmless, good-natured
people.

A great part of the horde living at the first Maloca or village
dwell in a common habitation, a large oblong hut built and
arranged inside with such a disregard of all symmetry that it
appeared as though constructed by a number of hands, each working
independently, stretching a rafter or fitting in a piece of
thatch, without reference to what his fellow-labourers were
doing. The walls as well as the roof are covered with thatch of
palm leaves-- each piece consisting of leaflets plaited and
attached in a row to a lath many feet in length. Strong upright
posts support the roof, hammocks being slung between them,
leaving a free space for passage and for fires in the middle, and
on one side is an elevated stage (girao) overhead, formed of
split palm-stems. The Tucunas excel over most of the other tribes
in the manufacture of pottery. They make broad-mouthed jars for
Tucupi sauce, caysuma or mandioca beer, capable of holding twenty
or more gallons, ornamenting them outside with crossed diagonal
streaks of various colours. These jars, with cooking-pots,
smaller jars for holding water, blow-guns, quivers, matiri bags
[These bags are formed of remarkably neat twine made of Bromelia
fibres elaborately knitted, all in one piece, with sticks; a belt
of the same material, but more closely woven, being attached to
the top to suspend them by. They afford good examples of the
mechanical ability of these Indians. The Tucunas also possess the
art of skinning and stuffing birds, the handsome kinds of which
they sell in great numbers to passing travellers.] full of small
articles, baskets, skins of animals, and so forth, form the
principal part of the furniture of their huts both large and
small. The dead bodies of their chiefs are interred, the knees
doubled up, in large jars under the floors of their huts.

The semi-religious dances and drinking bouts usual among the
settled tribes of Amazonian Indians are indulged in to greater
excess by the Tucunas than they are by most other tribes. The
Jurupari or Demon is the only superior being they have any
conception of, and his name is mixed up with all their
ceremonies, but it is difficult to ascertain what they consider
to be his attributes. He seems to be believed in simply as a
mischievous imp, who is at the bottom of all those mishaps of
their daily life, the causes of which are not very immediate or
obvious to their dull understandings. It is vain to try to get
information out of a Tucuna on this subject; they affect great
mystery when the name is mentioned, and give very confused
answers to questions: it was clear, however, that the idea of a
spirit as a beneficent God or Creator had not entered the minds
of these Indians. There is great similarity in all their
ceremonies and mummeries, whether the object is a wedding, the
celebration of the feast of fruits, the plucking of the hair from
the heads of their children, or a holiday got up simply out of a
love of dissipation. Some of the tribe on these occasions deck
themselves with the bright- feathers of parrots and
macaws. The chief wears a headdress or cap made by fixing the
breast-feathers of the Toucan on a web of Bromelia twine, with
erect tail plumes of macaws rising from the crown. The cinctures
of the arms and legs are also then ornamented with bunches of
feathers. Others wear masked dresses; these are long cloaks
reaching below the knee, and made of the thick whitish-
inner bark of a tree, the fibres of which are interlaced in so
regular a manner that the material looks like artificial cloth.
The cloak covers the head; two holes are cut out for the eyes, a
large round piece of the cloth stretched on a rim of flexible
wood is stitched on each side to represent cars, and the features
are painted in exaggerated style with yellow, red, and black
streaks. The dresses are sewn into the proper shapes with thread
made of the inner bark of the Uaissima tree. Sometimes grotesque
head-dresses, representing monkeys' busts or heads of other
animals, made by stretching cloth or skin over a basketwork
frame, are worn at these holidays. The biggest and ugliest mask
represents the Jurupari. In these festival habiliments the
Tucunas go through their monotonous see-saw and stamping dances
accompanied by singing and drumming, and keep up the sport often
for three or four days and nights in succession, drinking
enormous quantities of caysuma, smoking tobacco, and snuffing
parica powder.

I could not learn that there was any deep symbolical meaning in
these masked dances, or that they commemorated any past event in
the history of the tribe. Some of them seem vaguely intended as a
propitiation of the Jurupari, but the masker who represents the
demon sometimes gets drunk along with the rest, and is not
treated with any reverence. From all I could make out, these
Indians preserve no memory of events going beyond the times of
their fathers or grandfathers. Almost every joyful event is made
the occasion of a festival-- weddings among the best. A young man
who wishes to wed a Tucuna girl has to demand her hand of her
parents, who arrange the rest of the affair, and fix a day for
the marriage ceremony. A wedding which took place in the
Christmas week while I was at St. Paulo was kept up with great
spirit for three or four days, flagging during the heats of mid-
day, but renewing itself with increased vigour every evening.
During the whole time the bride, decked out with feather
ornaments, was under the charge of the older squaws whose
business seemed to be, sedulously, to keep the bridegroom at a
safe distance until the end of the dreary period of dancing and
boosing. The Tucunas have the singular custom, in common with the
Collinas and Mauhes, of treating their young girls, on their
showing the first signs of womanhood, as if they had committed
some crime. They are sent up to the girao under the smoky and
filthy roof, and kept there on very meagre diet, sometimes for a
whole month. I heard of one poor girl dying under this treatment.

The only other tribe of this neighbourhood concerning which I
obtained any information were the Majeronas, whose territory
embraces several hundred miles of the western bank of the river
Jauari, an affluent of the Solimoens, 120 miles beyond St. Paulo.
These are a fierce, indomitable, and hostile people, like the
Araras of the river Madeira; they are also cannibals. The
navigation of the Jauari is rendered impossible on account of the
Majeronas lying in wait on its banks to intercept and murder all
travellers, especially whites.

Four months before my arrival at St. Paulo, two young half-castes
(nearly white) of the village went to trade on the Jauari; the
Majeronas having shown signs of abating their hostility for a
year or two previously. They had not been long gone, when their
canoe returned with the news that the two young fellows had been
shot with arrows, roasted, and eaten by the savages. Jose
Patricio, with his usual activity in the cause of law and order,
despatched a party of armed men of the National Guard to the
place to make inquiries, and, if the murder should appear to be
unprovoked, to retaliate. When they reached the settlement of the
horde who had eaten the two men, it was found evacuated, with the
exception of one girl, who had been in the woods when the rest of
her people had taken flight, and whom the guards brought with
them to St. Paulo. It was gathered from her, and from other
Indians on the Jauari, that the young men had brought their fate
on themselves through improper conduct towards the Majerona
women. The girl, on arriving at St. Paulo, was taken care of by
Senor Jose Patricio, baptised under the name of Maria, and taught
Portuguese. I saw a good deal of her, for my friend sent her
daily to my house to fill the water-jars, make the fire, and so
forth. I also gained her goodwill by extracting the grub of an
Oestrus fly from her back, and thus cured her of a painful
tumour. She was decidedly the best-humoured and, to all
appearance, the kindest-hearted specimen of her race I had yet
seen. She was tall and very stout; in colour much lighter than
the ordinary Indian tint, and her ways altogether were more like
those of a careless, laughing country wench, such as might be met
with any day amongst the labouring class in villages in our own
country, than a cannibal. I heard this artless maiden relate, in
the coolest manner possible, how she ate a portion of the bodies
of the young men whom her tribe had roasted. But what increased
greatly the incongruity of this business, the young widow of one
of the victims, a neighbour of mine, happened to be present
during the narrative, and showed her interest in it by laughing
at the broken Portuguese in which the girl related the horrible
story.

In the fourth month of my sojourn at St. Paulo I had a serious
illness, an attack of the "sizoens," or ague of the country,
which, as it left me with shattered health and damped enthusiasm,
led to my abandoning the plan I had formed of proceeding to the
Peruvian towns of Pebas and Moyobamba, 250 and 600 miles further
west, and so completing the examination of the Natural History of
the Amazonian plains up to the foot of the Andes. I made a very
large collection at St. Paulo, and employed a collector at
Tabatinga and on the banks of the Jauari for several months, so
that I acquired a very fair knowledge altogether of the
productions of the country bordering the Amazons to the end of
the Brazilian territory, a distance of 1900 miles from the
Atlantic at the mouth of the Para; but beyond the Peruvian
boundary I found now I should be unable to go. My ague seemed to
be the culmination of a gradual deterioration of health, which
had been going on for several years. I had exposed myself too
much in the sun, working to the utmost of my strength six days a
week, and had suffered much, besides, from bad and insufficient
food. The ague did not exist at St. Paulo but the foul and humid
state of the village was, perhaps, sufficient to produce ague in
a person much weakened from other causes. The country bordering
the shores of the Solimoens is healthy throughout; some endemic
diseases certainly exist, but these are not of a fatal nature,
and the epidemics which desolated the Lower Amazons from Para to
the Rio <DW64>, between the years 1850 and 1856, had never reached
this favoured land. Ague is known only on the banks of those
tributary streams which have dark- water.

I always carried a stock of medicines with me; and a small phial
of quinine, which I had bought at Para in 1851, but never yet had
use for, now came in very useful. I took for each dose as much as
would lie on the tip of a penknife-blade, mixing it with warm
camomile tea. The first few days after my first attack I could
not stir, and was delirious during the paroxysms of fever; but
the worst being over, I made an effort to rouse myself, knowing
that incurable disorders of the liver and spleen follow ague in
this country if the feeling of lassitude is too much indulged. So
every morning I shouldered my gun or insect-net, and went my
usual walk in the forest. The fit of shivering very often seized
me before I got home, and I then used to stand still and brave it
out. When the steamer ascended in January, 1858, Lieutenant Nunes
was shocked to see me so much shattered, and recommended me
strongly to return at once to Ega. I took his advice, and
embarked with him, when he touched at St. Paulo on his downward
voyage, on the 2nd of February. I still hoped to be able to turn
my face westward again, to gather the yet unseen treasures of the
marvellous countries lying between Tabatinga and the <DW72>s of
the Andes; but although, after a short rest in Ega, the ague left
me, my general health remained in a state too weak to justify the
undertaking of further journeys. At length I left Ega, on the 3rd
of February, 1859, en route for England.

I arrived at Para on the 17th of March, after an absence in the
interior of seven years and a half. My old friends, English,
American, and Brazilian, scarcely knew me again, but all gave me
a very warm welcome, especially Mr. G. R. Brocklehurst (of the
firm of R. Singlehurst and Co., the chief foreign merchants, who
had been my correspondents), who received me into his house, and
treated me with the utmost kindness. I was rather surprised at
the warm appreciation shown by many of the principal people of my
labours; but, in fact, the interior of the country is still the
"sertao" (wilderness)--a terra incognita to most residents of the
seaport--and a man who had spent seven years and a half in
exploring it solely with scientific aims was somewhat of a
curiosity. I found Para greatly changed and improved. It was no
longer the weedy, ruinous, village-looking place that it appeared
to be when I first knew it in 1848. The population had been
increased to 20,000 by an influx of Portuguese, Madeiran, and
German immigrants, and for many years past the provincial
government had spent their considerable surplus revenue in
beautifying the city. The streets, formerly unpaved or strewn
with loose stones and sand, were now laid with concrete in a most
complete manner, all the projecting masonry of the irregularly-
built houses had been cleared away, and the buildings made more
uniform. Most of the dilapidated houses were replaced by handsome
new edifices, having long and elegant balconies fronting the
first floors, at an elevation of several feet above the roadway.
The large, swampy squares had been drained, weeded, and planted
with rows of almond and casuarina trees, so that they were now a
great ornament to the city, instead of an eyesore as they
formerly were. My old favourite road, the Monguba avenue, had
been renovated and joined to many other magnificent rides lined
with trees, which in a very few years had grown to a height
sufficient to afford agreeable shade; one of these, the Estrada
de Sao Jose, had been planted with cocoa-nut palms. Sixty public
vehicles, light cabriolets (some of them built in Para), now
plied in the streets, increasing much the animation of the
beautified squares, streets, and avenues.

I found also the habits of the people considerably changed. Many
of the old religious holidays had declined in importance, and
given way to secular amusements--social parties, balls, music,
billiards, and so forth. There was quite as much pleasure seeking
as formerly, but it was turned in a more rational direction, and
the Paraenses seemed now to copy rather the customs of the
northern nations of Europe than those of the mother country,
Portugal. I was glad to see several new booksellers' shops, and
also a fine edifice devoted to a reading-room supplied with
periodicals, globes, and maps, and a circulating library. There
were now many printing-offices, and four daily newspapers. The
health of the place had greatly improved since 1850, the year of
the yellow fever, and Para was now considered no longer dangerous
to newcomers.

So much for the improvements visible in the place, and now for
the dark side of the picture. The expenses of living had
increased about fourfold, a natural consequence of the demand for
labour and for native products of all kinds having augmented in
greater ratio than the supply, through large arrivals of
nonproductive residents, and considerable importations of money
on account of the steamboat company and foreign merchants. Para,
in 1848, was one of the cheapest places of residence on the
American continent; it was now one of the dearest. Imported
articles of food, clothing, and furniture were mostly cheaper,
although charged with duties varying from 18 to 80 percent,
besides high freights and large profits, than those produced in
the neighbourhood. Salt codfish was twopence per pound cheaper
than the vile salt pirarucu of the country. Oranges, which could
formerly be had almost gratis, were now sold in the streets at
the rate of three for a penny; large bananas were a penny each;
tomatoes were from two to three pence each, and all other fruits
in this fruit-producing country had advanced in like proportion.
Mandioca-meal, the bread of the country, had become so scarce and
dear and bad that the poorer classes of natives suffered famine,
and all who could afford it were obliged to eat wheaten bread at
fourpence to fivepence per pound, made from American flour, 1200
barrels of which were consumed monthly; this was now, therefore,
a very serious item of daily expense to all but the most wealthy.
House rent was most exorbitant; a miserable little place of two
rooms, without fixtures or conveniences of any kind, having
simply blank walls' cost at the rate of £18 sterling a year.
Lastly, the hire of servants was beyond the means of all persons
in moderate circumstances--a lazy cook or porter could not be had
for less than three or four shillings a day, besides his board
and what he could steal. It cost me half-a-crown for the hire of
a small boat and one man to disembark from the steamer, a
distance of 100 yards.

In rambling over my old ground in the forests of the
neighbourhood, I found great changes had taken place--to me,
changes for the worse. The mantle of shrubs, bushes, and creeping
plants which formerly, when the suburbs were undisturbed by axe
or spade, had been left free to arrange itself in rich, full, and
smooth sheets and masses over the forest borders, had been nearly
all cut away, and troops of labourers were still employed cutting
ugly muddy roads for carts and cattle, through the once clean and
lonely woods. Houses and mills had been erected on the borders of
these new roads. The noble forest-trees had been cut down, and
their naked, half-burnt stems remained in the midst of ashes,
muddy puddles, and heaps of broken branches. I was obliged to
hire a <DW64> boy to show me the way to my favourite path near
Una, which I have described in the second chapter of this
narrative; the new clearings having quite obliterated the old
forest roads. Only a few acres of the glorious forest near Una
now remained in their natural state. On the other side of the
city, near the old road to the rice mills, several scores of
woodsmen were employed under Government, in cutting a broad
carriage-road through the forest to Maranham, the capital of the
neighbouring province, distant 250 miles from Para, and this had
entirely destroyed the solitude of the grand old forest path. In
the course of a few years, however, a new growth of creepers will
cover the naked treetrunks on the borders of this new road, and
luxuriant shrubs form a green fringe to the path: it will then
become as beautiful a woodland road as the old one was. A
naturalist will have, henceforward, to go farther from the city
to find the glorious forest scenery which lay so near in 1848,
and work much more laboriously than was formerly needed to make
the large collections which Mr. Wallace and I succeeded in doing
in the neighbourhood of Para.

June 2, 1859--At length, on the 2nd of June, I left Para,
probably forever; embarking in a North American trading-vessel,
the Frederick Demming, for New York, the United States route
being the quickest as well as the pleasantest way of reaching
England. My extensive private collections were divided into three
portions and sent by three separate ships, to lessen the risk of
loss of the whole. On the evening of the 3rd of June, I took a
last view of the glorious forest for which I had so much love,
and to explore which I had devoted so many years. The saddest
hours I ever recollect to have spent were those of the succeeding
night when, the Mameluco pilot having left us free of the shoals
and out of sight of land though within the mouth of the river at
anchor waiting for the wind, I felt that the last link which
connected me with the land of so many pleasing recollections was
broken. The Paraenses, who are fully aware of the attractiveness
of their country, have an alliterative proverb, "Quem vai para
(o) Para para," "He who goes to Para stops there," and I had
often thought I should myself have been added to the list of
examples. The desire, however, of seeing again my parents and
enjoying once more the rich pleasures of intellectual society,
had succeeded in overcoming the attractions of a region which may
be fittingly called a Naturalist's Paradise. During this last
night on the Para river, a crowd of unusual thoughts occupied my
mind. Recollections of English climate, scenery, and modes of
life came to me with a vividness I had never before experienced,
during the eleven years of my absence. Pictures of startling
clearness rose up of the gloomy winters, the long grey twilights,
murky atmosphere, elongated shadows, chilly springs, and sloppy
summers; of factory chimneys and crowds of grimy operatives, rung
to work in early morning by factory bells; of union workhouses,
confined rooms, artificial cares, and slavish conventionalities.
To live again amidst these dull scenes, I was quitting a country
of perpetual summer, where my life had been spent like that of
three-fourths of the people-- in gipsy fashion-- on the endless
streams or in the boundless forests. I was leaving the equator,
where the well-balanced forces of Nature maintained a land-
surface and climate that seemed to be typical of mundane order
and beauty, to sail towards the North Pole, where lay my home
under crepuscular skies somewhere about fifty-two degrees of
latitude. It was natural to feel a little dismayed at the
prospect of so great a change; but now, after three years of
renewed experience of England, I find how incomparably superior
is civilised life, where feelings, tastes, and intellect find
abundant nourishment, to the spiritual sterility of half-savage
existence, even though it be passed in the garden of Eden. What
has struck me powerfully is the immeasurably greater diversity
and interest of human character and social conditions in a single
civilised nation, than in equatorial South America, where three
distinct races of man live together. The superiority of the bleak
north to tropical regions, however, is only in their social
aspect, for I hold to the opinion that, although humanity can
reach an advanced state of culture only by battling with the
inclemencies of nature in high latitudes, it is under the equator
alone that the perfect race of the future will attain to complete
fruition of man's beautiful heritage, the earth.

The following day, having no wind, we drifted out of the mouth of
the Para with the current of fresh water that is poured from the
mouth of the river, and in twenty-four hours advanced in this way
seventy miles on our road. On the 6th of June, when in 7' 55' N.
lat. and 52' 30' W. long., and therefore about 400 miles from the
mouth of the main Amazons, we passed numerous patches of floating
grass mingled with tree-trunks and withered foliage. Among these
masses I espied many fruits of that peculiarly Amazonian tree the
Ubussu palm; this was the last I saw of the Great River.





End of The Project Gutenberg Etext The Naturalist on the River Amazons

