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Table of Contents

PARÁ.

Festas—Portuguese and Brazilian Currency—M. Borlaz' Estate—Walk to the Rice-mills—The Virgin Forest, its Plants and Insects—Milk-tree—Saw and Rice Mills—Caripé or Pottery-tree—India-rubber-tree—Flowers and Trees in Blossom—Saüba Ants, Wasps, and Chegoes—Journey by Water to Magoary—The Monkeys—The Commandante at Laranjeiras—Vampire Bats—The Timber-trade—Boa Constrictor and Sloth.

About a fortnight after our arrival at Pará there were several holidays, or "festas," as they are called. Those of the "Espirito Santo" and the "Trinidade" lasted each nine days. The former was held at the cathedral, the latter at one of the smaller churches in the suburbs. The general character of these festas is the same, some being more celebrated and more attractive than others. They consist of fireworks every night before the church; Negro girls selling "doces," or sweetmeats, cakes, and fruit; processions of saints and crucifixes; the church open, with regular services; kissing of images and relics; and a miscellaneous crowd of Negroes and Indians, all dressed in white, thoroughly enjoying the fun, and the women in all the glory of their massive gold chains and earrings. Besides these, a number of the higher classes and foreign residents grace the scene with their presence; showy processions are got up at the commencement and termination, and on the last evening a grand display of fireworks takes place, which is generally provided by some person who is chosen or volunteers to be "Juiz da festa," or governor of the feast,—a rather expensive honour among people who, not content with an unlimited supply of rockets at night, amuse themselves by firing off great quantities during the day for the sake of the whiz and the bang that accompany them. The rockets are looked upon as quite a part of the religious ceremony: on asking an old Negro why they were let off in the morning, he looked up to the sky and answered very gravely, "Por Deos" (for God). Music, noise, and fireworks are the three essentials to please a Brazilian populace; and for a fortnight we had enough of them, for besides the above-mentioned amusements, they fire off guns, pistols, and cannon from morning to night.

After many inquiries, we at last succeeded in procuring a house to suit us. It was situated at Nazaré, about a mile and a half south of the city, just opposite a pretty little chapel. Close behind, the forest commences, and there are many good localities for birds, insects, and plants in the neighbourhood. The house consisted of a ground-floor of four rooms, with a verandah extending completely round it, affording a rather extensive and very pleasant promenade. The grounds contained oranges and bananas, and a great many forest and fruit trees, with coffee and mandiocca plantations. We were to pay twenty milreis a month rent (equal to £2 5s.), which is very dear for Pará, but we could get no other house so convenient. Isidora took possession of an old mud-walled shed as the domain of his culinary operations; we worked and took our meals in the verandah, and seldom used the inner rooms but as sleeping apartments.

We now found much less difficulty in mustering up sufficient Portuguese to explain our various wants. We were some time getting into the use of the Portuguese, or rather Brazilian, money, which is peculiar and puzzling. It consists of paper, silver, and copper. The rey is the unit or standard, but the milrey, or thousand reis, is the value of the lowest note, and serves as the unit in which accounts are kept; so that the system is a decimal one, and very easy, were it not complicated by several other coins, which are used in reckoning; as the vintem, which is twenty reis, the patac, three hundred and twenty, and the crusado, four hundred, in all of which coins sums of money are often reckoned, which is puzzling to a beginner, because the patac is not an integral part of the milrey (three patacs and two vintems making a milrey), and the Spanish dollars which are current here are worth six patacs. The milrey was originally worth 5s. 7½d., but now fluctuates from 2s. 1d. to 2s. 4d. or not quite half, owing probably to the over-issue of paper and its inconvertibility into coin. The metallic currency, being then of less nominal than real value, would soon have been melted down, so it became necessary to increase its value. This was done by restamping it and making it pass for double. Thus a vintem restamped is two vintems; a patac with one hundred and sixty on it counts for three hundred and twenty reis; a two-vintem piece counts for four. The newer coinage also having been diminished in size with the depreciation of the currency, there has arisen such a confusion, that the size of the coin is scarcely any index to its value, and when two pieces are of exactly the same size one may be double the value of the other. An accurate examination of each coin is therefore necessary, which renders the making up of a large sum a matter requiring much practice and attention.

There were living on the premises three Negroes, who had the care of the coffee- and fruit-trees, and of the mandiocca field. The principal one, named Vincente, was a fine stout handsome Negro, who was celebrated as a catcher of "bichos," as they here call all insects, reptiles, and small animals. He soon brought us in several insects. One was a gigantic hairy spider, a Mygale, which he skilfully dug out of its hole in the earth, and caught in a leaf. He told us he was once bitten by one, and was bad some time. When questioned on the matter, he said the "bicho" was "muito mal" (very bad), and concluded with an expressive "whew-w-w," which just answers to a schoolboy's "Ain't it though?" and intimates that there can be no doubt at all about the matter. It seems probable therefore that this insect is not armed in vain with such powerful fangs, but is capable of inflicting with them an envenomed wound.

During one of our exploratory rambles we came upon the country-house of a French gentleman, M. Borlaz, who is Swiss Consul in Pará. Much to our surprise he addressed us in English, and then showed us round his grounds, and pointed out to us the paths in the woods we should find most practicable. The vegetation here on the banks of the river, a mile below Pará, was very rich. The Miriti (Mauritia flexuosa), a fine fan-palm, and a slender species, the Marajá (Bactris Maraja), a small prickly tree which bears a fruit with a thin outer pulp, of a pleasant subacid taste, were both abundant. A mass of cactus, thirty feet high, grew near the house, having a most tropical aspect, but this was planted. The thickets were full of curious Bromeliaceæ and Arums, and many singular trees and shrubs, and in their shady recesses we captured some very fine insects. The splendid blue and orange butterflies (Epicalia ancea) were abundant, settling on the leaves; and they would repeatedly return to the same tree, and even to the same leaf, so that, though very difficult to capture, five specimens were taken without removing from the spot.

On our return to the house M. Borlaz treated us to some fine fruits,—the berribee, a species of Anona, with a pleasant acid custard-like pulp, the nuts of the bread-fruit roasted, very similar to Spanish chestnuts, and plantains dried in the sun, and much resembling figs. The situation of the house was delightful, looking over the river to the opposite islands, yet sufficiently elevated to be dry and healthy. The moist woods along the bank of the river were so productive that we often afterwards availed ourselves of M. Borlaz' kind invitation to visit his grounds whenever we felt disposed. As an instance of the voracity of the ants, I may mention that, having laid down my collecting-box in the verandah during half-an-hour's conversation, I was horrified to find, on opening it to put in a fresh capture, that it swarmed with small red ants, who had already separated the wings from near a dozen insects, and were dragging them in different directions about the box; others were at the process of dismemberment, while some had buried themselves in the plumpest bodies, where they were enjoying a delicious repast. I had great difficulty in making them quit their prey, and gained some useful experience at the expense of half a successful day's captures, including some of the splendid Epicalias which I so much prized.

On the morning of the 23rd of June we started early to walk to the rice-mills at Magoary, which we had been invited to visit by the proprietor, Mr. Upton, and the manager, Mr. Leavens, both American gentlemen. At about two miles from the city we entered the virgin forest, which the increased height of the trees and the deeper shade had some time told us we were approaching. Its striking characteristics were, the great number and variety of the forest-trees, their trunks rising frequently for sixty or eighty feet without a branch, and perfectly straight; the huge creepers, which climb about them, sometimes stretching obliquely from their summits like the stays of a mast, sometimes winding around their trunks like immense serpents waiting for their prey. Here, two or three together, twisting spirally round each other, form a complete living cable, as if to bind securely these monarchs of the forest; there, they form tangled festoons, and, covered themselves with smaller creepers and parasitic plants, hide the parent stem from sight.

Among the trees the various kinds that have buttresses projecting around their base are the most striking and peculiar. Some of these buttresses are much longer than they are high springing from a distance of eight or ten feet from the base, and reaching only four or five feet high on the trunk, while others rise to the height of twenty or thirty feet, and can even be distinguished as ribs on the stem to forty or fifty. They are complete wooden walls, from six inches to a foot thick, sometimes branching into two or three, and extending straight out to such a distance as to afford room for a comfortable hut in the angle between them. Large square pieces are often cut out of them to make paddles, and for other uses, the wood being generally very light and soft.

Other trees, again, appear as if they were formed by a number of slender stems growing together. They are deeply furrowed and ribbed for their whole height, and in places these furrows reach quite through them, like windows in a narrow tower, yet they run up as high as the loftiest trees of the forest, with a straight stem of uniform diameter. Another most curious form is presented by those which have many of their roots high above the surface of the ground, appearing to stand on many legs, and often forming archways large enough for a man to walk beneath.

The stems of all these trees, and the climbers that wind or wave around them, support a multitude of dependants. Tillandsias and other Bromeliaceæ, resembling wild pine-apples, large climbing Arums, with their dark green arrowhead-shaped leaves, peppers in great variety, and large-leaved ferns, shoot out at intervals all up the stem, to the very topmost branches. Between these, creeping ferns and delicate little species like our Hymenophyllum abound, and in moist dark places the leaves of these are again covered with minute creeping mosses and Hepaticæ,—so that we have parasites on parasites, and on these parasites again. On looking upwards, the finely-divided foliage, strongly defined against the clear sky, is a striking characteristic of the tropical forests, as is repeatedly remarked by Humboldt. Many of the largest forest-trees have leaves as delicate as those of the trembling Mimosa, belonging like them to the extensive family of the Leguminosæ, while the huge palmate leaves of the Cecropias, the oval glossy leaves of the Clusias, and a hundred others of intermediate forms, afford sufficient variety; and the bright sunshine lighting up all above while a sombre gloom reigns below, adds to the grandeur and solemnity of the scene.

Flowers were very few and far between, a few small Orchideæ and inconspicuous wayside weeds, with now and then a white- or green-blossomed shrub, being all that we met with. On the ground many varieties of fruits lay decaying: curiously twisted legumes like peas a yard long, huge broad beans, nuts of various sizes and forms, and large fruits of the pot-trees, which have lids like the utensil from which they derive their name. The herbage consisted principally of ferns, Scitamineæ, a few grasses and small creeping plants; but dead leaves and rotten wood occupied the greater part of the surface.

We found very few insects, but almost all that we met with were new to us. Our greatest treasure was the beautiful clear-winged butterfly, with a bright violet patch on its lower wings, the Hætera esmeralda, which we now saw and caught for the first time. Many other rare insects were also obtained, and the gigantic blue Morphos frequently passed us, but their undulating flight baffled all our efforts at capturing them. Of quadrupeds we saw none, and of birds but few, though we heard enough of the latter to assure us that they were not altogether wanting. We are inclined to think that the general statement, that the birds of the tropics have a deficiency of song proportionate to their brilliancy of plumage, requires to be modified. Many of the brilliant birds of the tropics belong to families or groups which have no song; but our most brilliantly coloured birds, as the goldfinch and canary, are not the less musical, and there are many beautiful little birds here which are equally so. We heard notes resembling those of the blackbird and the robin, and one bird gave forth three or four sweet plaintive tones that particularly attracted our attention; while many have peculiar cries, in which words may easily be traced by the fanciful, and which in the stillness of the forest have a very pleasing effect.

On reaching the mills we found it was one o'clock, the interesting objects on the road having caused us to linger for six hours on a distance of scarcely twelve miles. We were kindly welcomed by Mr. Leavens, who soon set before us substantial fare. After dinner we strolled round the premises, and saw for the first time toucans and paroquets in their native haunts. They frequent certain wild fruit-trees, and Mr. Leavens has many specimens which he has shot, and preserved in a manner seldom equalled. There are three mills—a saw-mill and two for cleaning rice. One rice-mill is driven by steam, the other two by water-power, which is obtained by damming up two or three small streams, and thus forming extensive mill-pools. The saw-mill was recently erected by Mr. Leavens, who is a practical millwright. It is of the kind commonly used in the United States, and the manner of applying the water is rather different from which we generally see in England. There is a fall of water of about ten feet, which, instead of being applied to an overshot or breast-wheel, is allowed to rush out of a longitudinal aperture at the bottom, against the narrow floats of a wheel only twenty inches in diameter, which thus revolves with great velocity, and communicates motion by means of a crank and connecting-rod directly to the saw, which of course makes a double stroke to each revolution of the wheel. The expense of a large slow-motion wheel is thus saved, as well as all the gearing necessary for producing a sufficiently rapid motion of the saws; and the whole having a smaller number of working parts, is much less liable to get out of order, and requires few repairs. The platform carrying the log is propelled on against the saw in the usual manner, but the method of carrying it back at the end of the cut is ingenious. The water is shut off from the main wheel, and let on at another shoot against a vertical wheel, on the top of the upright shaft of which is a cog-wheel working into a rack on the frame, which runs it back with great rapidity, and in the simplest manner. One saw only is used, the various thicknesses into which the trees are cut rendering more inconvenient.

We here saw the different kinds of timber used, both in the log and in boards, and were told their various uses by Mr. Leavens. Some are very hard woods resembling oak, and others lighter and less durable. What most interested us, however, were several large logs of the Masseranduba, or Milk-tree. On our way through the forest we had seen some trunks much notched by persons who had been extracting the milk. It is one of the noblest trees of the forest, rising with a straight stem to an enormous height. The timber is very hard, fine-grained, and durable, and is valuable for works which are much exposed to the weather. The fruit is eatable and very good, the size of a small apple, and full of a rich and very juicy pulp. But strangest of all is the vegetable milk, which exudes in abundance when the bark is cut: it has about the consistence of thick cream, and but for a very slight peculiar taste could scarcely be distinguished from the genuine product of the cow. Mr. Leavens ordered a man to tap some logs that had lain nearly a month in the yard. He cut several notches in the bark with an axe, and in a minute the rich sap was running out in great quantities. It was collected in a basin, diluted with water, strained, and brought up at teatime and at breakfast next morning. The peculiar flavour of the milk seemed rather to improve the quality of the tea, and gave it as good a colour as rich cream; in coffee it is equally good. Mr. Leavens informed us that he had made a custard of it, and that, though it had a curious dark colour, it was very well tasted. The milk is also used for glue, and is said to be as durable as that made use of by carpenters. As a specimen of its capabilities in this line, Mr. Leavens showed us a violin he had made, the belly-board of which, formed of two pieces, he had glued together with it applied fresh from the tree without any preparation. It had been done two years; the instrument had been in constant use, and the joint was now perfectly good and sound throughout its whole length. As the milk hardens by exposure to air, it becomes a very tough, slightly elastic substance, much resembling gutta-percha; but, not having the property of being softened by hot water, is not likely to become so extensively useful as that article.

After leaving the wood-yard, we next visited the rice-mills, and inspected the process by which the rice is freed from its husk. There are several operations to effect this. The grain first passes between two mill-stones, not cut as for grinding flour, but worked flat, and by them the outer husk is rubbed off. It is then conveyed between two boards of similar size and shape to the stones, set all over with stiff iron wires about three-eighths of an inch long, so close together that a grain of rice can just be pushed in between them. The two surfaces very nearly touch one another, so that the rice is forced through the spaces of the wires, which rub off the rest of the husk and polish the grain. A quantity, however, is broken by this operation, so it is next shaken through sifters of different degrees of fineness, which separate the dust from the broken rice. The whole rice is then fanned, to blow off the remaining dust, and finally passes between rubbers covered with sheepskin with the wool on, which clean it thoroughly, and render it fit for the market. The Pará rice is remarkably fine, being equal in quality to that of Carolina, but, owing to the carelessness with which it is cultivated, it seldom shows so good a sample. No care is taken in choosing seed or in preparing the ground; and in harvesting, a portion is cut green, because there are not hands enough to get it in quickly when it is ripe, and rice is a grain which rapidly falls out of the ear and is wasted. It is therefore seldom cultivated on a large scale, the greater portion being the produce of Indians and small landholders, who bring it to the mills to sell.

In the morning, after a refreshing shower-bath under the mill-feeder, we shouldered our guns, insect-nets, and pouches, and, accompanied by Mr. Leavens, took a walk into the forest. On our way we saw the long-toed jacanas on the river-side, Bemteví[1] flycatchers on the branches of every bare tree, and toucans flying with out-stretched bills to their morning repast. Their peculiar creaking note was often heard, with now and then the loud tapping of the great woodpeckers, and the extraordinary sounds uttered by the howling monkeys, all telling us plainly that we were in the vast forests of tropical America. We were not successful in shooting, but returned with a good appetite to our coffee and masseranduba milk, pirarucú, and eggs. The pirarucú is the dried fish which, with farinha, forms the chief subsistence of the native population, and in the interior is often the only thing to be obtained, so we thought it as well to get used to it at once. It resembles in appearance nothing eatable, looking as much like a dry cowhide grated up into fibres and pressed into cakes, as anything I can compare it with. When eaten, it is boiled or slightly roasted, pulled to pieces, and mixed with vinegar, oil, pepper, onions, and farinha, and altogether forms a very savoury mess for a person with a good appetite and a strong stomach.

After breakfast, we loaded our old Negro (who had come with us to show the way) with plants that we had collected, and a basket to hold anything interesting we might meet with on the road, and set out to walk home, promising soon to make a longer visit. We reached Nazaré with boxes full of insects, and heads full of the many interesting things we had seen, among which the milk-giving tree, supplying us with a necessary of life from so new and strange a source, held a prominent place.

Wishing to obtain specimens of a tree called Caripé, the bark of which is used in the manufacture of the pottery of the country, we inquired of Isidora if he knew such a tree, and where it grew. He replied that he knew the tree very well, but that it grew in the forest a long way off. So one fine morning after breakfast we told him to shoulder his axe and come with us in search of the Caripé,—he in his usual dishabille of a pair of trousers,—shirt, hat, and shoes being altogether dispensed with in this fine climate; and we in our shirt-sleeves, and with our hunting apparatus across our shoulders. Our old conductor, though now following the domestic occupation of cook and servant of all work to two foreign gentlemen, had worked much in the forest, and was well acquainted with the various trees, could tell their names, and was learned in their uses and properties. He was of rather a taciturn disposition, except when excited by our exceeding dulness in understanding what he wanted, when he would gesticulate with a vehemence and perform dumb-show with a minuteness worthy of a more extensive audience; yet he was rather fond of displaying his knowledge on a subject of which we were in a state of the most benighted ignorance, and at the same time quite willing to learn. His method of instruction was by a series of parenthetical remarks on the trees as he passed them, appearing to speak rather to them than to us, unless we elicited by questions further information.

"This," he would say, "is Ocöóba, very good medicine, good for sore-throat," which he explained by going through the action of gargling, and showed us that a watery sap issued freely on the bark being cut. The tree, like many others, was notched all over by the number of patients who came for the healing juice. "This," said he, glancing at a magnificent tall straight tree, "is good wood for houses, good for floors; call it Quaröóba." "This," pointing to one of the curious furrowed trees that look as if a bundle of enormously long sticks had grown into one mass, "is wood for making paddles;" and, as we did not understand this in Portuguese, he imitated rowing in a canoe; the name of this was Poetiéka. "This," pointing to another large forest-tree, "is good wood for burning, to make charcoal; good hard wood for everything,—makes the best charcoal for forges," which he explained by intimating that the wood made the fire to make the iron of the axe he held in his hand. This tree rejoiced in the name of Nowará. Next came the Caripé itself, but it was a young tree with neither fruit nor flowers, so we had to content ourselves with specimens of the wood and bark only; it grew on the edge of a swamp filled with splendid palm-trees. Here the Assai Palm, so common about the city, reached an enormous height. With a smooth stem only four inches in diameter, some specimens were eighty feet high. Sometimes they are perfectly straight, sometimes gently curved, and, with the drooping crowns of foliage, are most beautiful. Here also grew the Inajá, a fine thick-stemmed species, with a very large dense head of foliage. The undeveloped leaves of this as well as many other kinds form an excellent vegetable, called here palmeto, and probably very similar to that produced by the cabbage-palm of the West Indies. A prickly-stemmed fan-leaved palm, which we had observed at the mills, was also growing here. But the most striking and curious of all was the Paxiuba, a tall, straight, perfectly smooth-stemmed palm, with a most elegant head, formed of a few large curiously-cut leaves. Its great singularity is, that the greater part of its roots are above ground, and they successively die away, fresh ones springing out of the stem higher up, so that the whole tree is supported on three or four stout straight roots, sometimes so high that a person can stand between them with the lofty tree growing over his head. The main roots often diverge again before they reach the ground, each into three or more smaller ones, not an inch each in diameter. Though the stem of the tree is quite smooth, the roots are thickly covered with large tuberculous prickles. Numbers of small trees of a few feet high grow all around, each standing on spreading legs, a miniature copy of its parent. Isidora cut down an Assai palm, to get some palmeto for our dinner; it forms an agreeable vegetable of a sweetish flavour. Just as we were returning, we were startled by a quiet remark that the tree close by us was the Seringa, or India-rubber-tree. We rushed to it, axe in hand, cut off a piece of bark, and had the satisfaction to see the extraordinary juice come out. Catching a little in a box I had with me, I next day found it genuine india-rubber, of a yellowish colour, but possessing all its peculiar properties.

It being some saint's day, in the evening a fire was lit in the road in front of our house, and going out we found Isidora and Vincente keeping it up. Several others were visible in the street, and there appeared to be a line of them reaching to the city. They seemed to be made quite as a matter of business, being a mark of respect to certain of the more illustrious saints, and, with rockets and processions, form the greater part of the religion here. The glorious southern constellations, with their crowded nebulæ, were shining brilliantly in the heavens as the fire expired, and we turned into our hammocks well satisfied with all that we had seen during the day.

July 4th.—The vegetation now improved in appearance as the dry season advanced. Plants were successively budding and bursting their blossoms, and bright green leaves displaced the half-withered ones of the past season. The climbers were particularly remarkable, as much for the beauty of their foliage as for their flowers. Often two or three climb over one tree or shrub, mingling in the most perplexing though elegant confusion, so that it is a matter of much difficulty to decide to which plant the different blossoms belong, and should they be high up it is impossible. A delicate white and a fine yellow convolvulus were now plentiful; the purple and yellow trumpet-flowers were still among the most showy; and some noble thick-leaved climbers mounted to the tops of trees, and sent aloft bright spikes of scarlet flowers. Among the plants not in flower, the twin-leaved Bauhinias of various forms were most frequently noticed. The species are very numerous: some are shrubs, others delicate climbers, and one is the most extraordinary among the extraordinary climbers of the forest, its broad flattened woody stems being twisted in and out in a most singular manner, mounting to the summits of the very loftiest forest-trees, and hanging from their branches in gigantic festoons, many hundred feet in length. A handsome pink and white Clusia was now abundant, with large shining leaves, and flowers having a powerful and very fragrant odour. It grows not only as a good-sized tree out of the ground, but is also parasitical on almost every other forest-tree. Its large round whitish fruits are called "cebola braba" (wild onion), by the natives, and are much eaten by birds, which thus probably convey the seeds into the forks of lofty trees, where it seems most readily to take root in any little decaying vegetable matter, dung of birds, etc., that may be there; and when it arrives at such a size as to require more nourishment than it can there obtain, it sends down long shoots to the ground, which take root, and grow into a new stem. At Nazaré there is a tree by the road-side, out of the fork of which grows a large Mucujá palm, and on the palm are three or four young Clusia trees, which no doubt have, or will have, Orchideæ and ferns again growing upon them. A few forest-trees were also in blossom; and it was truly a magnificent sight to behold a great tree covered with one mass of flowers, and to hear the deep distant hum of millions of insects gathered together to enjoy the honeyed feast. But all is out of reach of the curious and admiring naturalist. It is only over the outside of the great dome of verdure exposed to the vertical rays of the sun that flowers are produced, and on many of these trees there is not a single blossom to be found at a less height than a hundred feet. The whole glory of these forests could only be seen by sailing gently in a balloon over the undulating flowery surface above: such a treat is perhaps reserved for the traveller of a future age.

A jararáca, said to be one of the most deadly serpents in Brazil, was killed by a Negro in our garden. It was small, and not brightly coloured. A fine coral snake was also brought in; it was about a yard long, and beautifully marked with black, red, and yellow bands. Having, perhaps, had some experience of the lavish manner in which foreigners pay for such things, the man had the coolness to ask two milreis, or 4s. 6d. for it, so he had to throw it away, and got nothing. A penny or twopence is enough to give for such things, which are of no value to the natives; and though they will not search much after them for such a price, yet they will bring you all that come in their way when they know you will purchase them. Snakes were unpleasantly abundant at this time. I nearly trod on one about ten feet long, which rather startled me, and it, too, to judge by the rapid manner in which it glided away. I caught also a small Amphisbena under the coffee-trees in our garden. Though it is known to have no poison-fangs, the Negroes declared it was very dangerous, and that its bite could not be cured. It is commonly known as the two-headed snake, from the tail being blunt and the head scarcely visible; and they believe that if it is cut in two, and the two parts thrown some yards apart, they will come together again, and join into an entire animal.

Among the curious things we meet with in the woods are large heaps of earth and sand, sometimes by the roadside, and sometimes extending quite across the path, making the pedestrian ascend and descend (a pleasing variety in this flat country), and looking just as if some "Pará and Peru direct Railway Company" had commenced operations. These mounds are often thirty or forty feet long, by ten or fifteen wide, and about three or four feet high; but instead of being the work of a lot of railway labourers, we find it is all due to the industry of a native insect, the much-dreaded Saüba ant. This insect is of a light-red colour, about the size of our largest English species, the wood-ant, but with much more powerful jaws. It does great injury to young trees, and will sometimes strip them of their leaves in a single night. We often see, hurrying across the pathways, rows of small green leaves; these are the Saübas, each with a piece of leaf cut as smoothly as with scissors, and completely hiding the body from sight. The orange-tree is very subject to their attacks, and in our garden the young trees were each planted in the centre of a ring-shaped earthen vessel, which being filled with water completely surrounded the stem, preventing the ants from reaching it. Some places are so infested by them that it is useless planting anything. No means of destroying them are known, their numbers being so immense, as may readily be seen from the great quantities of earth they remove.

Many different kinds of wasps' and bees' nests are constantly met with; but we were rather shy of meddling with them. They are generally attached to the undersides of leaves, especially of the young Tucumá palm, which are broad, and offer a good shelter. Some are little flat domes, with a single small opening; others have the cells all exposed. Some have only two or three cells, others a great number. These are all of a delicate papery substance; but some have large cylindrical nests, on high trees, of a material like thick cardboard. Then again there are nests in hollow trees, and others among their roots in the earth, while the solitary species make little holes in the paths, and pierce the mud-walls of the houses, till they appear as if riddled with shot. Many of these insects sting very painfully; and some are so fierce, that on their nests being approached, they will fly out and attack the unwary passer-by. The larger kinds of wasps have very long stings, and can so greatly extend their bodies that we were often stung when endeavouring to secure them for our collections.

I also suffered a little from another of our insect enemies: the celebrated chigoe at length paid us a visit. I found a tender pimple on the side of my foot, which Isidora pronounced to be a "bicho do pé" or chigoe; so preferring to extract it myself, I set to work with a needle, but not being used to the operation, could not get it out entire. I then rubbed a little snuff in the wound, and afterwards felt no more of it. The insect is a minute flea, which burrows into the skin of the toes, where it grows into a large bag of eggs as big as a pea, the insect being just distinguishable as a black speck on one side of it. When it first enters it causes a slight irritation, and if found may then be easily extracted; but when it grows large it is very painful, and if neglected may produce a serious wound. With care and attention, however, this dreaded insect is not so annoying as the mosquito or our own domestic flea.

Having made arrangements for another and a longer visit to Magoary, we packed up our hammocks, nets, and boxes, and went on board a canoe which trades regularly to the mills, bringing the rice and timber, and taking whatever is required there. We left Pará about nine at night, when the tide served, and at five the next morning found the vessel lying at anchor, waiting for the flood. We were to proceed on to the mills in a montaria, or small Indian canoe, and as we were five with the Negroes who were to paddle, I felt rather nervous on finding that we sank the little boat to within two inches of the water's edge, and that a slight motion of any one of the party would be enough to swamp us altogether. However, there was no help for it, so off we went, but soon found that with its unusual load our boat leaked so much that we had to keep baling by turns with a calabash all the time. This was not very agreeable; but after a few miles we got used to it, and looked to the safe termination of our voyage as not altogether improbable.