We lost here another of our crew; 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. Senhor Gomez, to whom we had brought letters of introduction from Senhor Joao Augusto Correia, a Brazilian gentleman 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 Baiad 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 back to the stern. We started at 6 a.m., and about sunset reached a point where the west channel of the river, along which we had been travelling since we left Cametd, joined a broader middle one, and formed with it a great expanse of water. The islands here seemed 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 Ubusst 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 be all contented and happy, but idleness and poverty were exhibited by many unmistakable signs. As to the flooding of their island abodes, they do, 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 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 Ampul-lari, whose flesh I found, on trial, to be a very tough morsel), the never-ending farinha, and the fruits of the forest. Amongst the latter the fruits of palm-trees occupied the chief place. The Assai is the most in use, but this forms a universal article of diet in all parts of the country. The fruit, which is perfectly round, and about the size of a cherry, contains

but a small portion of pulp lying between the skin and the hard kernel. This is made, with the addition of water, into a thick, violet-coloured beverage, which stains the lips like blackberries. The fruit of the Miriti is also a common article of food, although the pulp is sour and unpalatable, at least to European tastes. It is boiled, and then eaten with farinha. The Tucuma (Astrocaryum tucuma), and the Mucuja (Acromia 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 here from forty to sixty feet high. ‘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 for animal food solely on fishing, there is a period of the year when they suffer hunger, so that they are disposed to prize highly 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, Nad ha, meu coracad.” “ We have none: I am sorry I cannot oblige you;” or, ‘‘ There is none, my heart.” Sept. 3rd to 7¢#.—At half-past eight a.m. we arrived at Baiao, which is built on a very high bank, and contains about 400 inhabitants. We Assai Palm had to climb to the village up a ladder, which (Euterpe oleracea), is fixed against the bank, and on arriving at the top, took possession of aroom 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. Wewere now quite dependent on 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, Axo dono pudblico 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. Thé houses have their doors and windows opened 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 Escrivad, 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 Soares, 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 tree-tops 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, when 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, whilst, 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 Saiiba ant devoured the young coffee trees, and every one who attempted to contend against this universal ravager was sure to be defeated. The country, for many miles along the banks of the river, seemed to be well peopled. The inhabitants were nearly all of the tawny-white mameluco class. I saw a good many mulattos, but very few negroes and Indians, and none that could be called pure whites. When Senhor 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 back yard. Both wore long dressing-gowns, made of bright-coloured calico print, and had long wooden tobacco-pipes in their mouths. The room in which we slept and worked had formerly served as a storeroom for cacao, and at night I was kept awake for hours by rats and cockroaches, which swarm in all such places. The latter were running about all over the walls; now and then one would come suddenly with a whir 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 dozens all night long, over the floor, up and down the edges of the doors, and along the rafters of the open roof.

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