When the leaks were stopped, we proceeded on our journey, and at night reached the mouth of the Anapt. I wrapped myself up in an old sail, and fell asleep on the raised deck. The next day we threaded the Igarapé-mirim, and on the rgth descended the Mojti. Senhor Machado and J 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; since the Revolution of 1835-6, they 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, but now there are only three. At Burujtiba there is a large monastery in a state of decay; part of the edifice, however, was 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 more in place 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 Senhor 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 I begged Senhor 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—Negro observance of Christmas—

A German Family—Bats—Ant-eaters—Humming-birds—Excursion to the Murucupi—Domestic Life of the Inhabitants—Hunting Excursion with Indians—

Natural History of the Paca and Cutia—Insects.

Tuart 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 Acard 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; the opposite shore—the island of Marajé—being visible only in clear weather as a line of tree-tops dotting the horizon. A little farther upwards, that is, to the south-west, the mainland on the right or eastern shore appears; this is called Carnapijé; it is rocky, covered with the never-ending 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 Marajé. The coast and the interior of the land are peopled by civilised Indians and mamelucos, with a mixture of free negroes 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 scanty supply of game found inthe 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 sea-shore between Parad 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 Carnapijd, 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 occa- 86

sional 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 on¢as (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 runaway slave heavily chained, 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 whilst the others listened. At Uirapiranga, a small island behind the Ilha das onc¢as, 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 weslept, 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, whilst passing in a heavily-laden montaria to his large canoe. Remembering their fate, I was rather alarmed tosee 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 baling 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 verandah, the doors opening on 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 negroes of their own free will, and ina 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 negro 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 “ Virgem soberana,” 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 Parad 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 Pard. 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; 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 isno 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

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