CHAPTER I.

PARA,

Arrival—Aspect of the country—The Para river—First walk in the suburbs of Para—

Free Negroes—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 sand-hills 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 primeval 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 Pard 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 I

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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 lately been 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 Pard river is 36 miles in breadth at its mouth; and at the city of Pard, nearly 70 miles from the sea, itis 20 miles wide; but at that point a series of islands commences, which contract the river view in front of the city.

It will be well to explain here that the Parad river is not, strictly speaking, one of the mouths of the Amazons. It is made to appear so on many of the maps in common use, because the channels which connect it with the main river are there given much broader than they are in reality, conveying the impression that a large body of water finds an outlet from the main river into the Para. It is doubtful, however if there be any considerable streams of water flowing constantly downward through these channels. The whole of the district traversed by them consists of a complex group of low islands formed of river deposit, between which is an intricate network of deep and narrow channels. The land probably lies somewhat lower here than it does on the sea coast, and the tides meet about the middle of the channels; but the ebb and flow are so complicated that it is difficult to ascertain whether there is a constant line of current in one direction. A flow down one of the channels is in some cases diverted into an ebb through other ramifications. In travelling from the Parad to the main Amazons, I have always followed the most easterly channel, and there the flow of the tide always causes a strong upward current; it is said that this is not so perceptible in other channels, and that the flow never overpowers the stream of water coming from the main river; this would seem to favour the opinion of those geographers who believe the Para to be one of the mouths of the King of Rivers.

The channels of which we are speaking, at least those straighter ones which trading vessels follow in the voyage from Para to the Amazons, are about 80 miles in length; but for many miles of their course they are not more than 100 yards in breadth. They are of great depth, and in many places are so straight and regular that they appear like artificial canals. The great river steamers, which now run regularly to the interior, in some places brush the overhanging trees with their paddle-boxes on each side as they pass. The whole of the region is one vast wilderness of the most luxuriant tropical vegetation, the strangest forms of palm trees of some score of different species forming a great proportion of the mass. I shall, however, have to allude again to the wonderful beauty of these romantic channels, when I arrive at that part of my narrative.

The Pard river, on this view, may be looked upon as the common fresh-water estuary of the numerous rivers which flow into it from the south; the chief of which is the Tocantins, a stream 1600 miles in

length, and about ten miles in breadth at its mouth. The estuary forms, then, a magnificent body of water 160 miles in length, and eight miles in breadth at its abrupt commencement, where it receives the channels just described. ‘There is a great contrast in general appearance between the Para and the main Amazons. In the former the flow of the tide always creates a strong current upwards, whilst in the Amazons the turbid flow of the mighty stream overpowers all tides, and produces a constant downward current. The colour of the water is different, that of the Parad being of a dingy orange-brown, whilst the Amazons has an ochreous or yellowish clay tint. The forests on their banks have a different aspect. On the Para the infinitely diversified trees seem to rise directly out of the water; the forest frontage is covered with greenery, and wears a placid aspect, whilst the shores of the main Amazons are encumbered with fallen trunks, and are fringed with a belt of broad-leaved grasses. The difference is partly owing to the currents, which on the main river tear away the banks, and float out to sea an almost continuous line of dead trees and other débris of its shores.

We may, however, regard the combined mouths of the Para and the Amazons with their archipelago of islands as forming one immense river delta, each side of which measures 180 miles—an area about equal to the southern half of England and Wales. In the middle of it lies the island of Marajo, which is as large as Sicily. The land is low and flat, but it does not consist entirely of alluvium or river deposit; in many parts the surface is rocky; rocks also form reefs in the middle of the Para river. The immense volumes of fresh water which are poured through these broad embouchures, the united contributions of innumerable streams, fed by drenching tropical rains, prevent them from becoming salt-water estuaries. The water is only occasionally a little brackish near Para, at high spring tides. Indeed, the fresh water tinges the sea along the shores of Guiana to a distance of nearly 200 miles from the mouth of the river.

On the morning of the 28th of May we arrived at Parad. 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 crowds 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

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% 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, were seen; we passed down a long narrow street leading to the suburbs. Beyond this, our road lay across a grassy common into a picturesque lane leading to the virgin forest. The long street was inhabited by the poorer class of the population. The houses were of one story only, and had an irregular and mean appearance. The windows were without glass, having, instead, projecting lattice casements. The street was unpaved, and inches deep in loose sand. Groups of people were cooling themselves outside their doors—people of all shades in colour of skin, European, Negro and Indian, but chiefly an uncertain mixture of the three. Amongst them were several handsome women, dressed in a slovenly manner, barefoot or shod in loose slippers; but wearing richly decorated ear-rings, and around their necks strings of very large gold beads. They had dark expressive eyes, and remarkably rich heads of hair. It was amere 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 everywhere visible. The wooden palings which surrounded the weed-grown gardens were strewn about, broken; and 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 mangoes 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, roots and walls, or toppled over palings in copious profusion of foliage. The superb banana (Musa paradisiaca), of which I had always read as

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