side of the Solimoens, and as many of these were “representative forms” * 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 asa 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 flier, and is not confined, as I afterwards found, to the northern side of the river, for once I saw a specimen amidst a number of richly-coloured butterflies, flying about the deck of the steamer when we were anchored off Fonte Boa, 200 miles lower down the river.

With the exception of three mameluco families and a stray Portuguese trader, all the inhabitants of the village and neighbourhood are semi-civilised Indians of the Shumdna and Passé 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 Maras 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. The territory of the tribe extends to the Moco, an affluent of the Japura, with which there is communication by land higher up the Tunantins, the two rivers approximating within about fifteen miles. From what I saw and heard of the Caishanas, I was led to the conclusion that they had no close genealogical relationship with the Maras, but were more likely a degraded section of the Shumana, or some other neighbouring tribe. Scarcely any of them had the coarse features, the large trunk, broad chest, thick arms, and protuberant abdomen of the Maras, and their features, although presenting a wild, unsteady, and distrustful expression like the Maras, were often as finely shaped as those of the Shumanas and Passés. Senhor Bitancourt told me their “ girio,” or tribal language, had much resemblance to that of the Shumanas. I have before shown how scattered hordes have segregated from their original tribes, and by long isolation, themselves become tribes, acquiring totally different languages, habits, and, to a lesser extent, different corporeal structure.

My first and only visit to a Caishana dwelling was accidental. One day, having extended my walk farther than usual, and followed one of the forest-roads until it became a mere ficada, or hunters’ track, I came suddenly upon a well-trodden pathway, bordered on each side with Lycopodia of the most elegant shapes, the tips of the fronds stretching almost like tendrils down the little earthy slopes which formed the edge

Species or races which take the place of other allied species or races.

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 stage 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-pipe, and this is employed only in shooting animals for food. They are not a warlike people, like most of the neighbouring tribes on the Japurad and Issa. ‘Their utensils consist of earthenware cooking-vessels, wooden stools, drinking-cups of gourds, and the usual apparatus for making farinha, of which they produce a considerable quantity, selling the surplus to traders at Tunantins.

The whole tribe of Caishanas does not exceed in number 400 souls. 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 Pajés, 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 amongst all the surrounding tribes, are unknown to the Caishanas. There is amongst 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, Passés, 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 while 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.

I obtained a little information here concerning the inhabitants of the banks of the Issd, a stream 7co miles in length, which, having its sources at the foot of the volcanoes near Pasto, in New Granada, enters the Amazons about twenty miles to the west of Tunantins. I once met a mulatto of Pasto and his wife, who had descended this river from its source to its mouth. They lost all their luggage in passing the cataracts; but found, after the first fifteen days of their journey (about 150 miles), no more obstructions to navigation down to the Solimoens. It is not so unhealthy a river as the Japurd; but the natives are much less friendly to the whites than those inhabiting that river. ‘To the distance of about 400 miles from Tunantins, its banks are now almost destitute of inhabitants. A few half-civilised and peaceable Passés, Juris, and Shumdanas, are settled near its mouth; but higher up the Marietés occupy the domain, and towards the frontiers of New Granada, Mirdnhas are the only Indians met with, whose territory extends overland thence to the Japurd. The Marietés and Mirdnhas have been for many years constantly at war, and the depopulation. of the country is owing partly to this circumstance, and partly to diseases introduced by the whites. These wars are not carried on by the whole of each tribe at once, but in a series of partial hostilities between separate hordes or clans. The hordes of each nation live apart; indeed these tribes have no villages, but are scattered in families over the country, and are connected together by no other ties than a common name, and the tradition of general enmity towards the hordes bearing the name of the other nation. Moreover, hordes belonging to the same tribe or nation sometimes quarrel with each other. These petty wars originate in this fashion: a member of a family falls ill, and his or her relations, or the rest of the horde, get hold of the idea that the Pajé of a neighbouring horde has caused the illness by witchcraft; all then assemble for a grand drinking-bout, during which they excite each other by reciting their wrongs. The armed men meet on the following day, and march by intricate paths or circuitous streams,so as to take their enemies by surprise, and then pounce upon them with loud shouts, killing all they can, and burning their huts to the ground.

LVovember 30th.—I left Tunantins in a trading schooner of eighty tons burthen belonging to Senhor 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 a series of six rivers, from 400 to 1000 miles in length, which flow from the south-west through unknown lands lying between Bolivia and the Upper Amazons, and enter this latter river between the Madeira and the Ucayali. The sources of none of them are known. The longest of the six is the Purds, the first met with in ascending the Solimoens. I gleaned very little information 24

concerning the Jutahi, which was not visited much by traders, but, as far as I could learn, its banks were peopled by nearly the same wild tribes as those of the next parallel stream, the Jurud, about which I gathered a good deal from my friend John da Cunha, who ascended it as far as it was navigable on a trading expedition. The Jurua flows wholly through a flat country covered with light-green forests, and its waters are tinged ochreous, by the quantity of clayey and earthy matter held in suspension, like those of the Solimoens. At the end of the navigation there is a road by land to the Puris, the two great streams being there only about thirty or forty miles distant from each other. The Jutah{f must be a much shorter river than the Jurud, for, as Senhor Cunha told me, the Conibos, an advanced tribe of agricultural Indians living on the banks of the Jurua near its source, have at that point a direct road by land to the Ucayali, which must pass to the south of the sources both of the Jutahi and the Jauari, the two rivers lying between the Jurud and Ucayali. Eight distinct tribes of Indians inhabit the banks of the Jurua, all of which, except the most remote (the Conibos) pass overland to the Jutahi.* Each tribe has its peculiar language, and to a great extent also its peculiar customs. I heard, however, of no new feature in Indian character or customs, except that the Conibos practise the art of knitting cotton cloth, which they fashion into long cloaks. The cloth, of which I saw many specimens, forms a regular, durable, and not inelegant web of tolerably close texture. The Conibos, like the Indians of Peru, do not grow the poisonous kind of mandioca, but simply the sweet kind, or Macasheira (Manihot Aypi). I estimate the length of the Jutahi at about 400 miles, and that of the Juruad at 600 miles. We remained at anchor four days within the mouth of the Sapd, a small tributary of the Jutahf, flowing from the south-east; Senhor Raiol having to send an igarité 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 Jurud, 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

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