lowing day we entered the Anapú, and on the 30th of September, after threading again the labyrinth of channels communicating be. tween the Tocantins and the Mojú, arrived at Pará. I I will now give a short account of Cametá, the principal town on the banks of the Tocantins, which I visited for the second time in June, 1849; Mr. Wallace, in the same month, departing from Pará to explore the rivers Guamá and Capim. I embarked as passenger in a Cametá trading-vessel, the St. John, a small schooner of thirty tons burden. I had learned by this time that the only way to attain the objects for which I had come to this country was to accustom myself to the ways of life of the humbler classes of the inhabitants. A traveller on the Amazons gains little by being furnished with letters of recommendation to persons of note, for in the great interior wildernesses of forest and river the canoe-men have pretty much their own way; the authorities cannot force them to grant passages or to hire themselves to travellers, and therefore a stranger is obliged to ingratiate himself with them in order to get conveyed from place to place. thoroughly enjoyed the journey to Cametá; the weather was again beautiful in the extreme. We started from Pará at sunrise on the 8th of June, and on the 10th emerged from the narrow channels of the Anapú into the broad Tocantins. The vessel was so full of cargo, that there was no room to sleep in the cabin; so we passed the nights on deck. The captain, or supercargo, called in Portuguese cabo, was a mameluco, named Manoel, a quiet, good humored person, who treated me with the most unaffected civility during the three days' journey. The pilot was also & mameluco, named John Mendez, a handsome young fellow, full of life and spirit. He had on board a wire guitar or viola, as it is here called; and in the bright moonlight nights, as we lay at anchor hour after hour waiting for the tide, he enlivened us all with songs and music. He was on the best of terms with the cabo, both sleeping in the same hammock slung between the masts. I passed the nights wrapped in an old sail outside the roof of the cabin. The crew, five in number, were Indians and half-breeds, all of whom treated their two superiors with the most amusing familiarity, yet I never sailed in a better managed vessel than the St. John. In crossing to Cametá we had to await the flood-tide in a channel called Entre-as-Ilhas, which lies between two islands in mid-river, and John Mendez, being in good tune, gave us an extempore song, consisting of a great number of verses. The canoe-men of the Amazons have many songs and choruses, with which they are in the habit of relieving the monotony of their slow voyages, and which are known all over the interior. The choruses consist of a simple strain, repeated almost to weariness, and sung generally in unison, but sometimes with an attempt at harmony. There is a wildness and sadness about the tunes which harmonize well with, and in fact are born of, the circumstances of the canoe-man's life: the echoing channels, the endless gloomy forests, the solemn nights, and the desolate scenes of broad and stormy waters and falling banks. Whether they were invented by the Indians or introduced by the Portuguese it is hard to decide, as many of the customs of the lower classes of Portuguese are so similar to those of the Indians that they have become blended with them. One of the commonest songs is very wild and pretty. It has for refrain the words Mai, Mai,' ("Mother, mother'), with a long drawi on the second word. The stanzas are very variable. The best wit on board starts the verse, improvising as he goes on, and the others join in the chorus. They all relate to the lonely river life and the events of the voyage; the shoals, the wind; how far they shall go before they stop to sleep, and so forth. The sonorous native names of places, Goajará, Tucumandúba, etc., add greatly to the charm of the wild music. Sometimes they bring in the stars thus: A lua está sahindo, Mai, Mail A lua está sahindo, Mai, Mai! As sete estrellas estao chorando, Por s'acharem desamparados, The moon is rising, Mother, Mother! The moon is rising, Mother, Mother! The seven stars (Ple ades) are weeping, To find themselves forsaken, I fell asleep about ten o'clock, but at four in the morning John Mendez woke me to enjoy the sight of the little schooner tearing through the waves before a spanking breeze. The night was transparently clear and almost cold, the moon appeared sharply defined against the dark blue sky, and a ridge of foam marked where the prow of the vessel was cleaving its way through the water. The men had made a fire in the galley, to make tea of an acid herb called erva cidreira a quantity of which they had gathered at the last landing-place, and the flames spackled cheerily upward. It is at such times as these that Amazon travelling is enjoyable, and one no longer wonders at the love which many, both natives and strangers, have for this wandering life. The little schooner sped rapidly on with booms bent and sails stretched to the utmost. Just as day dawned, we ran with scarcely slackened speed into the port of Cametá, and cast anchor. I stayed at Cametá until the 16th of July, and made a considerable collection of the na tural productions of the neighborhood. The town in 1849 was estimated to contain about 5000 inhabitants, but the municipal district of which Cametá is the capital numbers 20,000; this, however, comprised the whole were of the lower part of the Tocantins, which is the most thickly populated part of the province of Pará. The productions of the district are cacao, india-rubber, and Brazil nuts. The most remarkable feature in the social aspect of the place is the hybrid nature of the whole population, the amalgamation of the white and Indian races being here complete. The aborigines were originally very numerous on the western bank of the Tocantins, the principal tribe having been the Camútas, from which the city takes its name. They were a superior nation, settled, and attached to agriculture, and received with open arms the white immigrants who were attracted to the district by its fertility, natural beauty, and the healthfulness of the climate. The Portuguese settlers were nearly all males, the Indian women good-looking and made excellent wives; so the natural result has been, in the course of two centuries, a complete blending of the two races There is now, however, a considerable infusion of negro blood in the mixture, several hundred African slaves having been introduced during the last seventy years. The few whites are chiefly Portuguese, but there are also two or three Brazilian families of pure European descent. The town consists of three long streets, running parallel to the river, with a few shorter oues crossing them at right angles. The houses are very plain, being built, as usual in this country, simply of a strong framework, filled up with mud, and coated with white plaster. A few of them are of two or three stories. There are three churches, and also a small theatre, where a company of native actors, at the time of my visit, were representing light Portuguese plays with considerable taste and ability. The people have a reputation all over the province for energy and perseverance; and it is often said that they are as keen in trade as the Portuguese. The lower classes are as indolent and sensual here as in other parts of the province, a moral condition not to be wondered at in a country where perpetual summer reigns and where the necessaries of life are so easily obtained. But they are light-hearted, quick-witted, communicative, and hospitable. I found here a na tive poet, who had written some pretty verses, showing an appreciation of the natural beauties of the country, and was told that the Archbishop of Bahia, the Primate of Brazil, was a native of Cametá. It is interesting to find the mamelucos displaying talent and enterprise, for it shows that degeneracy does not necessarily result from the mixture of white and Indian blood. The Cametuenses boast, as they have a right to do, of theirs being the only large town which resisted successfully the anarchists in the great rebellion of 1835-6. While the whites of Pará were submitting to the rule of half-savage revolu tionists, the mamelucos of Cametá placed themselves under the leadership of a courageous priest, named Prudencio, armed themselves, fortified the place, and repulsed the large forces which the insurgents of Pará sent to attack the place. The town not only became the refuge for all loyal subjects, but was a centre whence large parties of volunteers sallied forth repeatedly to attack the anarchists in their various strongholds. The forest behind Cametá is traversed by several broad roads, which lead over undulating ground many miles into the interior. They pass generally under shade, and part of the way through groves of coffee and orange trees, fragrant plantations of cacao, and tracts of second-growth woods. The narrow brook-watered valleys, with which the land is intersected, alone have remained clothed with primeval forest, at least near the town. 'The houses along these beautiful roads belong chiefly to mameluco, mulatto, and Indian families, each of which has its own small plantation. There are only a few planters with larger establishments, and these have seldom more than a dozen slaves. Besides the main roads, there are endless bypaths which thread the forest and communicate with isolated houses. Along these the traveller may wander day after day without leaving the shade, and everywhere meet with cheerful, simple, and hospitable people. Soon after landing I was introduced to the most distinguished citizen of the place, Dr. Angelo Custodio Correia, whom I have already mentioned. This excellent man was a favorable specimen of the highest class of native Brazilians. He had been educated in Europe, was now a member of the Brazilian Parliament, and had been twice president of his native province. His manners were less formal, and his goodness more thoroughly genuine, perhaps, than is the rule generally with Brazilians. He was admired and loved, as I had ample opportunity of observing, throughout all Amazonia. He sacrificed his life in 1855, for the good of his fellow townsmen, when Cametá was devastated by the cholera; having stayed behind with a few heroic spirits to succor invalids and direct the burying of the dead, when nearly all the chief citizens had fled from the place After he had done what he could he embarked for Pará, but was himself then attacked with cholera, and died on board the steamer before he reached the capital. Dr. Angelo received me with the usual kindness which he showed to all strangers. He procured me, unsolicited, a charming country house, free of rent, hired a muatto servant for me, and thus relieved me of the many annoyances and delays attendant on a first arrival in a country town where even the name of an inu is unknown. The rocinha thus given up for my residence belonged to a friend of his, Senhor José Raimundo Furtado, a stout florid-complexioned gentleman, such a one as might be met with any day in a country town in England. To him also I was indebted for many acts of kindness. The rocinha was situated near a broad, grassy road bordered by lofty woods, which leads from Cametá to the Aldeia, a village two miles distant. My first walks were along this road. From it branches another similar but stun more picturesque road, which runs to Cuzimá and Pacajá, two small settlements, several miles distant, in the heart of the forest. The Curimá road is beautiful in the extreme. About half a mile from the house where I lived it crosses a brook flowing through a deep dell, by means of a long rustie wooden bridge. The virgin forest is here jeft untouched; numerous groups of slender palms, mingled with lofty trees overrun with creepers and parasites, fill the shady glen and arch over the bridge, forming one of the most picturesque scenes imaginable. A lit tle beyond the bridge there was an extensive giove of orange and other trees, which yielded me a rich harvest. The Aldeia road runs parallel to the river, the land from the border of the road to the indented shore of the Tocantius forming a long slope, which was also richly wooded; this slope was threaded by numerous shady paths, and abounded in beautiful insects and birds. At the opposite or southern end of the town there was a broad road called the Estrada da Vacaria; this ran along the banks of the Tocantins at some distance from the river, and continued over hill and dale, through bamboo thickets and palm swamps, for about fifteen miles. are clothed come off when touched, and cause At Cametá I chanced to verify a fact relating to the habits of a large hairy spider of the genus Mygale, in a manner worth recording. The species was M. avicularia, or one very closely allied to it; the individual was nearly two inches in length of body, but the legs expanded seven inches, and the entire body and legs were covered with coarse gray and reddish hairs. I was attracted by a movement of the monster on a tree-trunk; it was close beneath a deep crevice in the tree, across which was stretched a dense white web. The lower part of the web was broken, and two small birds, finches, were entangled in the pieces; they were about the size of the English siskin, and I judged the two to be male and female. One of them was quite dead; the other lay under the body of the spider not quite dead, and was smeared with the filthy liquor or saliva exuded by the monster. I drove away the spider and took the birds, but the second one soon died. The fact of species of Mygale sallying forth at night, mounting trees, and sucking the eggs and young of humming-birds, has been recorded long ago by Madame Merian and Palisot de Beauvois; but, in the absence of any confirmation, it has come to be discredited. From the way the fact has been related it In the orange groves and other parts humwould appear that it had been merely derived ming-birds were plentiful, but I did not nofrom the report of natives, and had not been tice more than three species. I saw one day witnessed by the narrators. Count Langs- a little pygmy belonging to the genus Phaedorff, in his "Expedition into the Interior of thornis in the act of washing itself in a brook, Brazil," states that he totally disbelieved the perched on a thin branch, one end of which story. I found the circumstance to be quite was under water. It dipped itself, then fluta novelty to the residents hereabout. The tered its wings and preened its feathers, and Mygales are quite common insects; some seemed thoroughly to enjoy itself, alone in species make their cells under stones, others the shady nook which it had chosen-a place form artistic tunnels in the earth, and some overshadowed by broad leaves of ferns and build their dens in the thatch of houses. The natives call them Aranhas carangueijeiras, or crab-spiders. The hairs with which they Heliconia. I thought, as I watched it, that there was no need for poets to invent elves and gnomes, while nature furnishes us with such marvellous little sprites ready to eral of these short and sharp storms during band. My return-journey to Pará afforded many incidents characteristic of Amazonian travel. ling. I left Cametá on the 16th of July. My luggage was embarked in the morning in the Santa Rosa, a vessel of the kind called cuberta, or covered canoe. The cuberta is very much used on these rivers. It is not decked, but the sides forward are raised, and arched over, so as to admit of cargo being piled high above the water-line. At the stern is a neat square cabin, also raised, and between the cabin and covered forepart is a narrow piece decked over, on which are placed the cooking arrangements. This is called the tombadilha or quarterdeck, and when the canoe is heavily laden it goes under water as the vessel heels over to the wind. There are two masts, rigged with fore and aft sails. The foremast has often, besides, a main and top sail. The forepart is planked over at the top, and on this raised deck the crew work the vessel, pulling it along, when there is no wind, by means of the long oars already described. As I have just said, my luggage was embarked in the morning. I was informed that we should start with the ebb-tide in the afternoon, so I thought I should have time to pay my respects to Dr. Angelo and other friends, whose extreme courtesy and good ness had made my residence at Cametá so agreeable. After dinner the guests, accord. ing to custom at the house of the Correias, walked into the cool veranda which over. looks the river; and there we saw the Santa Rosa, a mere speck in the offing miles away, tacking down river with a fine breeze. I was now in a fix, for it would be useless attempting to overtake the cuberta, and besides the sea ran too high for any montaria. I was then told, that I ought to have been aboard hours before the time fixed for startfing, because when a breeze springs up, vessels start before the tide turns, the last hour of the flood not being very strong. All my precious collections, my clothes, and other necessaries were on board, and it was indispensable that I should be at Pará when the things were disembarked. I tried to hire a montaria and men, but was told that it would be madness to cross the river in a small boat with this breeze. On going to Senhor Laroque, another of my Cametá friends, I was relieved of my embarrassment; for I found there an English gentleman, Mr. Patchett, of Pernambuco, who was visiting Pará and its neighborhood on his way to England, and who, as he was going back to Pará in a small boat with four paddles, which would start at midnight, kindly offered me a passage. The evening from seven to ten o'clock was very stormy. About seven, the night became intensely dark, and a terrific squall of wind burst forth, which made the loose stiles fly over the house-tops; to this succeeded lightning and stupendous claps of thunder, both nearly simultaneous. We had had sev the past month. At midnight, when we embarked, all was as calm as though a ruffle had never disturbed air, forest, or river. The boat sped along like an arrow to the rhythmic paddling of the four stout youths we had with us, who enlivened the pasasge with their wild songs. Mr. Patchett and I tried to get a little sleep, but the cabin was so small and encumbered with boxes placed at all sorts of angles, that we found sleep impossible. I was just dozing when the day dawned, and, on awaking, the first object I saw was the Santa Rosa, at anchor beside a green island in mid-river. I preferred to make the remainder of the voyage in com. pany of my collections, so bade Mr. Patchett good-day. The owner of the Santa Rosa, Senhor Jacinto Machado, whom I had not seen before, received me aboard, and apologized for having started without me. He was a white man, a planter, and was now taking his year's produce of cacao, about twenty tons, to Pará. The canoe was very heavily laden, and I was rather alarmned to see that it was leaking at all points. The crew were all in the water, diving about to feel for the holes, which they stopped with pieces of rag and clay, and an old neg:0 was baling the water out of the hold. This was a pleasant prospect for a three-days' voyage. Senhor Machado treated it as the most ordinary incident possible: "It was always likely to leak, for it was an old vessel that had been left as worthless high and dry on the beach, and he had bought it very cheap. When the leaks were stopped, we proceeded on our journey, and at night reached the mouth of the Anapú. I wrapped myself in an old sail, and fell asleep on the raised deck. The next day we threaded the Igarapé-mirim and on the 19th descended the Mojú. Senhor Machado and I by this time had become very good friends. At every interesting spot on the banks of the Mujú, 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, but which, since the Revolution of 1835-6, 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 Mojú, while now there are only three. At Burujúba there is a large monastery in a state of ruin; part of the edifice, however, was still 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 better in place on some barren moor in Northern Europe, than here in the midst of perpetual summer. The next turn in the river below Burujúba brought the city of Pará into view. The wind was now against us, and we were obliged to tack about. Toward evening it began to low stiffly, the vessel heeled over vers 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 afterward 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, fearing that the crazy vessel would sink before reaching port, I begged Senhor Machado to send me ashore in the boat, with the more precious portion of my collections. CHAPTER V. prise. One of the largest of these establishment is called Caripí. 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 occasional English and American visitors to Pará had made some stay at Caripí, and it had obtained quite a reputa tion 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 Pará was about 23 miles, round by the northern end of the Ilha das Onças (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. At We were 13 persons aboard: the cabo, his pretty mulatto mistress, the pilot, and five Indian canoemen, three young mamelucos (tailor's apprentices who were taking a holiday trip to Cametá), 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 interestone reading while the others listened. Uirapiranga, a small island behind the Ilha das Ouças, we had to stop a short time to embark several pipes of cashaça 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 we slept, and the following morning, continuing our voyage, entered a narrow channel which intersects the land of Carnapijó. At two P.M. we emerged from this channel, which is called the Aititûba, or Arrozal, into the broad Bahia, and then saw, two or three miles away to the left, the red-tiled mansion of Caripí, embosomed in woods on the shores of a charming little bay. CARIPÍ AND THE BAY OF MARAJÓ. River Pará and Bay of Marajó-Jonrney to CaripiNegro Observance of Christmas-A German Family -Bats-Ant-eaters-Humming-birds-Excursion to the Murucupí-Domestic Life of the InhabitantsHunting Excursion with Indians-White Ants. THAT part of the Pará 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 Goajará, into which the three rivers Guamá, Mojú, and Acará discharge their waters. The main channel of the Părá 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 Marajó-being visible only in clear weather as a line of treetops dotting the horizon. A little further upward, that is, to the south-west, the mainland on the right or eastern shore appears this is called Carnapijó; it is rocky, covered with the never-ending forest, and the coast, which is fringed with broad sandy beaches, describes a gentle curve inward. The broad reach of the Pará in front of this coast is called the Bahia, or Bay of Marajó. The coast and the interior of the land are peopled I remained here nine weeks, or until the by civilized Indians and mamelucos, with a 12th of February, 1849. The house was very mixture of free negroes and mulattoes. They large and most substantially built, but conare poor, for the waters are not abundant in sisted of only one story. I was told it was fish, and they are dependent for a livelihood built by the Jesuits more than a century ago. solely on their small plantations, and the The front had no veranda, the doors openscanty supply of game found in the woods. ing on a slightly-elevated terrace, about The district was originally peopled by vari- hundred yards distant from the broad sandy ous tribes of Indians, of whom the principal beach. Around the residence the ground were the Tupinambás and Nhengahíbas. had been cleared to the extent of two or Like all the coast tribes, whether inhabiting three acres, and was planted with fruit-trees. the banks of the Amazons or the sea-shore Well-trodden pathways through the forest between Pará and Bahia, they were far more advanced in civilization 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 Carnapijó, and several planters' houses, formerly the centres of flourishing estates, which have now relapsed into forest in consequence of the scarcity of labor and diminished enter 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 mid-day hours when all nature was pausing breathless under the rays of the ver |