_August 30th._—As time goes on, we grow more at home with our rustic

friends here, and begin to understand their relations to each other. The

name of our host is Laudigári (I spell the name as it sounds), and that

of his wife Esperança. He, like all the Indians living upon the Amazons,

is a fisherman, and, with the exception of such little care as his small

plantation requires, this is his only occupation. An Indian is never

seen to do any of the work of the house, not even to bring wood or water

or lift the heavy burdens, and as the fishing is done chiefly at certain

seasons, he is a very idle fellow for a great part of the time. The

women are said, on the contrary, to be very industrious; and certainly

those whom we have an opportunity of seeing here justify this

reputation. Esperança is always busy at some household work or

other,—grating mandioca, drying farinha, packing tobacco, cooking or

sweeping. Her children are active and obedient, the older ones making

themselves useful in bringing water from the lake, in washing the

mandioca, or in taking care of the younger ones. Esperança can hardly be

called pretty, but she has a pleasant smile and a remarkably sweet

voice, with a kind of child-like intonation, which is very winning; and

when sometimes, after her work is over, she puts on her white chemise,

falling loose from her brown shoulders, her dark skirt, and a rose or a

sprig of white jessamine in her jetty hair, she is by no means

unattractive in her personal appearance, though I must confess that the

pipe which she is apt to smoke in the evening injures the general

effect. Her husband looks somewhat sombre; but his hearty laugh

occasionally, and his enjoyment of the glass of cachaça which rewards

him when he brings in a new lot of specimens, shows that he has his

bright side. He is greatly amused at the value Mr. Agassiz attaches to

the fishes, especially the little ones, which appear to him only fit to

throw away. It seems that the other family who have been about here

since our arrival are neighbors, who have come in to help in the making

of mandioca. They come in the morning with all their children and remain

through the day. The names of the father and mother are Pedro Manuel and

Michelina. He is a tall, handsome fellow, whose chief occupation seems

to be that of standing about in picturesque attitudes, and watching his

rather pretty wife, as she bustles round in her various work of grating

or pressing or straining the mandioca, generally with her baby astride

on her hip,—the Indian woman’s favorite way of carrying her child.

Occasionally, however, Pedro Manuel is aroused to bear some part in the

collecting; and the other day, when he brought in some specimens which

seemed to him quite valueless, Mr. Agassiz rewarded him with a chicken.

His surprise and delight were great, perhaps a little mingled with

contempt for the man who would barter a chicken for a few worthless

fishes, fit only to throw into the river.

[Illustration: Esperança’s Cottage.]

Last evening, with some difficulty, we induced Laudigári to play for us

on a rough kind of lute or guitar,—a favorite instrument with the

country people, and used by them as an accompaniment for dancing. When

we had him fairly _en train_ with the music, we persuaded Esperança and

Michelina to show us some of their dances; not without reluctance, and

with an embarrassment which savored somewhat of the self-consciousness

of civilized life, they stood up with two of our boatmen. The dance is

very peculiar; so languid that it hardly deserves the name. There is

almost no movement of the body; they lift the arms, but in an angular

position with no freedom of motion, snapping the fingers like castanets

in time to the music, and they seem rather like statues gliding from

place to place than like dancers. This is especially true of the women,

who are still more quiet than the men. One of the boatmen was a

Bolivian, a finely formed, picturesque-looking man, whose singular dress

heightened the effect of his peculiar movements. The Bolivian Indians

wear a kind of toga; at least I do not know how otherwise to designate

their long straight robe of heavy twilled cotton cloth. It consists of

two pieces, hanging before and behind, fastened on the shoulder; leaving

only an aperture for the head to pass through. It is belted around the

waist, leaving the sides open so that the legs and arms are perfectly

free. The straight folds of his heavy white drapery gave a sort of

statuesque look to our Bolivian as he moved slowly about in the dance.

After it was over, Esperança and the others urged me to show them the

dance “of my country,” as they said, and my young friend R—— and I

waltzed for them, to their great delight. It seemed to me like a strange

dream. The bright fire danced with us, flickering in under the porch,

fitfully lighting its picturesque interior and the group of wondering

Indians around us, who encouraged us every now and then with a “Mûito

bonito, mia branca, mûito bonito” (Very pretty, my white, very pretty).

Our ball kept up very late, and after I had gone to my hammock I still

heard, between waking and sleeping, the plaintive chords of the guitar,

mingling with the melancholy note of a kind of whippoorwill, who sings

in the woods all night. This morning the forest is noisy with the

howling monkeys. They sound very near and very numerous; but we are told

that they are deep in the forest, and would disappear at the slightest

approach.

_September 1st._—Yesterday morning we bade our friendly hosts good-by,

leaving their pretty picturesque home with real regret. The night before

we left, they got together some of their neighbors in our honor, and

renewed the ball of the previous evening. Like things of the same kind

in other classes, the second occasion, got up with a little more

preparation than the first, which was wholly impromptu, was neither so

gay nor so pretty. Frequent potations of cachaça made the guests rather

noisy, and their dancing, under this influence, became far more

animated, and by no means so serious and dignified as the evening

before. One thing which occurred early in the entertainment, however,

was interesting, as showing something of their religious observances. In

the morning Esperança’s mother, a hideous old Indian woman, had come

into my room to make me a visit. Before leaving, I was rather surprised

to see her kneel down by a little trunk in the corner, and, opening the

lid slightly, throw in repeated kisses, touching her lips to her fingers

and making gestures as if she dropped the kisses into the trunk,

crossing herself at intervals as she did so. In the evening she was

again at the dance, and, with the other two women, went through with a

sort of religious dance, chanting the while, and carrying in their hands

a carved arch of wood which they waved to and fro in time to the chant.

When I asked Esperança the meaning of this, she told me that, though

they went to the neighboring town of Villa Bella for the great fête of

our Lady of Nazareth, they kept it also at home on their return, and

this was a part of their ceremonies. And then she asked me to come in

with her, and, leading the way to my room, introduced me to the contents

of the precious trunk; there was our Lady of Nazareth, a common coarse

print, framed in wood, one or two other smaller colored prints and a few

candles; over the whole was thrown a blue gauze. It was the family

chapel, and she showed me all the things, taking them up one by one with

a kind of tender, joyful reverence, only made the more touching by their

want of any material value.

We are now at another Indian house on the bank of an arm of the river

Ramos, connecting the Amazons, through the Mauhes, with the Madeira. Our

two hours’ canoe-journey yesterday, in the middle of the day, was

somewhat hot and wearisome, though part of it lay through one of the

shady narrow channels I have described before. The Indians have a pretty

name for these channels in the forest; they call them Igarapés, that is,

boat-paths, and they literally are in many places just wide enough for

the canoe. At about four o’clock we arrived at our present lodging,

which is by no means so pretty as the one we have left, though it

stands, like that, on the slope of a hill just above the shore, with the

forest about it. But it lacks the wide porch and the open working-room

which made the other house so picturesque. Mosquitoes are plentiful, and

at nightfall the house is closed and a pan of turf burned before the

door to drive them away. Our host and hostess, by name José Antonio Maia

and Maria Joanna Maia, do what they can, however, to make us

comfortable, and the children as well as the parents show that natural

courtesy which has struck us so much among these Indians. The children

are constantly bringing me flowers and such little gifts as they have it

in their power to bestow, especially the painted cups which the Indians

make from the fruit of the Crescentia, and use as drinking-cups, basins,

and the like. One sees numbers of them in all the Indian houses along

the Amazons. My books and writing seem to interest them very much, and

while I was reading at the window of my room this morning, the father

and mother came up, and, after watching me a few minutes in silence, the

father asked me, if I had any leaves out of some old book which was

useless to me, or even a part of any old newspaper, to leave it with him

when I went away. Once, he said, he had known how to read a little, and

he seemed to think if he had something to practise upon, he might

recover the lost art. His face fell when I told him all my books were

English: it was a bucket of cold water to his literary ambition. Then he

added, that one of his little boys was very bright, and he was sure he

could learn, if he had the means of sending him to school. When I told

him that I lived in a country where a good education was freely given to

the child of every poor man, he said if the “branca” did not live so far

away, he would ask her to take his daughter with her, and for her

services to have her taught to read and write. The man has a bright,

intelligent face, and speaks with genuine feeling of his desire to give

an education to his children.

_September 3d._—Yesterday we started on our return, and after a warm and

wearisome row of four hours reached our steamer at five o’clock in the

afternoon. The scientific results of this expedition have been most

satisfactory. The collections, differing greatly from each other in

character, are very large from both our stations, and Mr. Burkhardt has

been indefatigable in making colored drawings of the specimens while

their tints were yet fresh. This is no easy task, for the mosquitoes

buzz about him and sometimes make work almost intolerable. This morning

Maia brought in a superb Pirarara (fish parrot). This fish is already

well known to science; it is a heavy, broad-headed hornpout, with a bony

shield over the whole head; its general color is jet black, but it has

bright yellow sides, deepening into orange here and there. Its

systematic name is Phractocephalus bicolor. The yellow fat of this fish

has a curious property; the Indians tell us that when parrots are fed

upon it they become tinged with yellow, and they often use it to render

their “papagaios” more variegated.[58]

During our absence the commander of our steamer, Captain Anacleto, and

one or two gentlemen of the town, among others Senhor Augustinho, and

also Father Torquato, whose name occurs often in Bates’s work on the

Amazons, have been making a collection of river fishes, in which Mr.

Agassiz finds some fifty new species. Thus the harvest of the week has

been a rich one. To-day we are on our way to Manaos, where we expect to

arrive in the course of to-morrow.

-----

Footnote 51:

Senhor Sepeda, a most hospitable and courteous gentleman, to whom we

were indebted then and afterwards for much kindness, and also for

valuable collections put up during our journey to the Upper Amazons.

Footnote 52:

August 22d, morning: between Tajapurú and Gurupá.

MY DEAR FRIEND:—Yesterday was a most instructive day,—above all, in

the “forest fishes.” We have obtained fifteen species in all. Out of

this number ten are new, four are found also in Pará, and one has been

already described by me in the voyage of Spix and Martius; but what is

most interesting is the proof furnished by these species, taken in

their totality, that the fishes inhabiting the waters west of the

group of islands called Marajó, when considered as a whole, differ

from those of the Pará river. The list of names which we have asked

from the Indians shows, further, that the number of species found in

these localities exceeds greatly that which we have been able to

procure; for this reason we have left cans at Breves and at Tajapurú

in order to complete the collection. I add some remarks which will

help you to appreciate these differences, if you wish to compare them

with the catalogue of the Pará species which I left with you.

Considering all, it seems to me already apparent that our voyage will

make a revolution in Ichthyology. In the first place, the Jacundá of

Tajapurú is different from those of Pará; so is the Acará; then we

have a new species of Sarapó, and also one of Jeju; a new species of

Rabeca, a new species of Anojá, a new genus of Candiru, a new genus of

Bagre, a new genus of Acary, and a new species of Acary belonging to

the same genus as that of Pará; also a new species of Matupirim. Add

to this a species of Aracú, already described, but which is not found

at Pará, and you will have at Tajapurú eleven species which do not

exist at Pará, to which must be added four species which are found at

Tajapurú as well as at Pará, and one which occurs at Pará, Breves, and

Tajapurú. In all twenty species, of which fifteen are new, in two

days. Unhappily, the Indians have misunderstood our directions, and

have brought us but one specimen of each species. There remains, then,

much to do in these localities, judging from the catalogue of names

collected by Major Coutinho, which includes twenty-six species from

the forest and forty-six from the river. We are still lacking at least

fifty-two species from Tajapurú, even supposing that this locality

contains also the five species from Breves. You see that we shall yet

leave a large share of the work to our successors.

Adieu for to-day, your affectionate

L. AGASSIZ.

Footnote 53:

The opportunity of watching these fishes in their natural element, and

keeping many of them alive for hours or days in our glass tanks, was

very instructive, and suggested comparisons not dreamed of before. Our

arrangements were very convenient; and as the commander of the steamer

allowed me to encumber the deck with all sorts of scientific

apparatus, I had a number of large glass dishes and wooden tubs in

which I kept such specimens as I wished to investigate with special

care and to have drawn from life. One of the most striking changes

made by J. Müller, in the classification of the spiny fishes, was the

separation into a distinct order, under the name of Pharyngognathi, of

all those in which the pharyngeal bones are soldered together. With

these the illustrious German anatomist has associated a number of

soft-rayed types, formerly united with the Pickerels and Herrings, and

characterized by the same structure. It would thus seem that there is

here a definite anatomical character easily traceable, by the aid of

which a vast number of fishes might be correctly classified. But the

question at once arises, Are these fishes truly related to one

another, and so combined in this new order of Pharyngognathi as to

include all which properly belong with them, and none others? I think

not. I believe that Müller has always placed too much value upon

isolated anatomical characters; and, while he was undoubtedly one of

the greatest anatomists and physiologists of our age, he lacked

zoölogical tact. This is especially evident with reference to the

order of Pharyngognathi, for though the Scomberesoces have fixed

pharyngeals like Chromides, Pomacentrides, Labroids, Holconotes, and

Gerrides, they have no real affinities with these families. Again, the

character assigned to this order is not constant even in the typical

Pharyngognathi. I have found Chromides and Gerrides with movable

pharyngeals; in the genus Cychla they are normally so. It is therefore

not out of place to state here that the Chromides of South America are

in reality closely related to a group of fishes very generally found

in the United States, known as Pomotis, Bryttus, Centrarchus, etc.,

and usually referred to the family of Perches, from which they have,

however, been separated by Dr. Holbrook under the name of

Helichthyoids. They not only resemble the Chromides in their form, but

even in their habits, mode of reproduction, peculiar movements, and

even in their coloration. Cuvier has already shown that Enoplosus is

not a member of the family of Chætodonts, and I may now add that it is

a near relative of the Chromides, and should stand by the side of

Pterophyllum in a natural system. Monocirrus of Heckel, which I

consider as the type of a small family under the name of Folhidæ, is

also closely allied to these, though provided with a barbel, and

should be placed with Polycentrus side by side with the Chromides and

Helichthyoids. The manner in which Pterophyllum moves is quite

peculiar. The profile of the head and the extended anterior margin of

the high dorsal are brought on a level, parallel to the surface of the

water, when the long ventrals and high anal hang down vertically, and

the fish progresses slowly by the lateral beating of the tail.—L. A.

Footnote 54:

ON THE XINGU, August 23d, 1865.

MY DEAR FRIEND:—I am worn out with fatigue, but I will not go to rest

before writing you a word. Yesterday evening we obtained twenty-seven

species of fish at Gurupá and this morning fifty-seven at Porto do

Moz,—eighty-four species in all, in less than twelve hours, and of

this number fifty-one are new. It is wonderful. I can no longer put in

order what is brought to me as fast as it arrives, and as to obtaining

colored drawings of all, it is no longer possible, unless we pass a

whole week here on our return.

Wholly yours,

L. AGASSIZ.

Footnote 55:

Representations of these hills may be found in the Atlas of Martius

and in Bates’s “Naturalist on the Amazons.”

Footnote 56:

Afterwards I made a longer stay at Monte Alégre, and learned to know

its picturesque nooks and dells, where a luxuriant vegetation is

watered by delicious springs. I feel that the above description is

superficial; but I let it remain, as perfectly true to my first

impressions.

Footnote 57:

I soon became convinced after leaving Pará that the faunæ of our

different stations were not repetitions of each other. On the

contrary, at Breves, Tajapurú, Gurupá,—in short, at each

stopping-place, as has been seen,—we found another set of inhabitants

in the river, if not wholly different from the last, at least

presenting so many new species that the combination was no longer the

same. It became at once very important to ascertain whether these

differences were permanent and stationary, or were, in part at least,

an effect of migration. I therefore determined to distribute our

forces in such a way as to keep collecting parties at distant points,

and to repeat collections from the same localities at different

seasons. I pursued this method of investigation during our whole stay

in the Amazons, dividing the party for the first time at Santarem,

where Messrs. Dexter, James, and Talisman separated from us to ascend

the Tapajoz, while Mr. Bourget remained at Santarem, and I, with the

rest of my companions, kept on to Obydos and Villa Bella.—L. A.

Footnote 58:

I was especially interested in seeing living Gymnotini. I do not here

allude to the electric Gymnotus, already so fully described by

Humboldt that nothing remains to be said about it; but to the smaller

representatives of that curious family, known as Carapus, Sternopygus,

Sternarchus and Rhamphichthys. The Carapus, called Sarapos throughout

Brazil, are very numerous, and the most lively of the whole group.

Their motions are winding and rapid like those of the Eel, but yet

different, inasmuch as they do not glide quickly forward, but, like

Cobitis and Petromyzon, turn frequent somersets and change their

direction constantly. This is also the case with the Sternopygus and

Sternarchus, and even the larger and more slender Rhamphichthys have a

kind of rolling motion. Though I had expected to find many

Cyprinodonts, yet their great variety astonished me, and still more

was I struck by their resemblance to Melanura, Umbra, and the

Erythrinoids. The presence of Belone and allied forms also surprised

me. Our stay on the shores of José Assú and Lago Maximo was

particularly instructive on account of the numerous specimens of each

species daily brought in by Laudigári and Maia. It afforded me a

welcome opportunity for studying the differences exhibited by these

fishes at different periods of life. No type passes, in that respect,

through greater changes than the Chromides, and among them the genus

Cychla is perhaps the most variable. I am sure that no ichthyologist

could at first sight believe that their young are really the early

stage of the forms known in our ichthyological works as Cychla

monocolus, Cychla temensis, and Cychla saxatilis. The males and

females also vary greatly during the spawning season, and the hump on

the top of the head described as a specific character in Cychla

nigro-maculata is a protuberance only found in the male, swelling

during the period of spawning and soon disappearing. Once familiar

with the young brood of some species of Chromides, it became easy for

me to distinguish a great variety of small types, no doubt hitherto

overlooked by naturalists travelling in this region, simply under the

impression that they must be the young of larger species. A similar

investigation of the young of Serrasalmo, Myletes, Tetragonopterus,

Cynodon, Anodus, &c. led me to the discovery of an equally large

number of diminutive types of Characines, many of which, when full

grown, do not exceed one inch in length; among them are some of the

most beautiful fishes I have ever seen, so far as the brilliancy and

variety of their colors are concerned. Thus everything contributed to

swell the collections,—the localities selected as well as the mode of

investigating. I should add here, that, several years before my own

journey on the Amazons, I had been indebted to the Rev. Mr. Fletcher

for a valuable collection of fishes from this and other Amazonian

localities. The familiarity thus obtained with them was very useful to

me in pursuing my studies on the spot.—L. A.

CHAPTER VI.

LIFE AT MANAOS.—VOYAGE FROM MANAOS TO TABATINGA.

ARRIVAL AT MANAOS.—MEETING OF THE SOLIMOENS WITH THE RIO

NEGRO.—DOMESTICATED AT MANAOS.—RETURN OF PARTY FROM THE

TAPAJOZ.—GENEROSITY OF GOVERNMENT.—WALKS.—WATER-CARRIERS.—INDIAN

SCHOOL.—LEAVE MANAOS.—LIFE ON BOARD THE STEAMER.—BARREIRA DAS

CUDAJAS.—COARI.—WOODING.—APPEARANCE OF BANKS.—GEOLOGICAL

CONSTITUTION.—FOREST.—SUMAUMEIRA-TREE.—ARROW-GRASS.—RED DRIFT

CLIFFS.—SAND-BEACHES.—INDIAN HUTS.—TURTLE-HUNTING.—DRYING

FISH.—TEFFÉ.—DOUBTS ABOUT THE JOURNEY.—UNEXPECTED ADVISER.—FONTE

BÔA.—GEOLOGICAL CHARACTER OF BANKS.—LAKES.—FLOCKS OF WATER

BIRDS.—TONANTINS.—PICTURESQUE GROUPING OF INDIANS.—SAN

PAOLO.—LAND-SLIDES.—CHARACTER OF SCENERY.—SCANTY

POPULATION.—ANIMAL LIFE.—TABATINGA.—ASPECT OF THE

SETTLEMENT.—MOSQUITOES.—LEAVE ONE OF THE PARTY TO MAKE

COLLECTIONS.—ON OUR WAY DOWN THE RIVER.—PARTY TO THE RIVERS IÇA

AND HYUTAHY.—AGROUND IN THE AMAZONS.—ARRIVAL AT TEFFÉ.

_September 5th._—Manaos. Yesterday morning we entered the Rio Negro and

saw the meeting of its calm, black waters with the rushing yellow

current of the Amazons, or the Solimoens, as the Upper Amazon is called.

They are well named by the Indians the “living and the dead river,” for

the Solimoens pours itself down upon the dark stream of the Rio Negro

with such a vital, resistless force, that the latter does indeed seem

like a lifeless thing by its side. It is true, that at this season, when

the water in both the rivers is beginning to subside, the Rio Negro

seems to offer some slight resistance to the stronger river; it

struggles for a moment with the impetuous flood which overmasters it,

and, though crowded up against the shore, continues its course for a

little distance side by side with the Solimoens. But at the season when

the waters are highest, the latter closes the mouth of the Rio Negro so

completely that not a drop of its inky stream is seen to mingle with the

yellow waters outside. It is supposed that at this season the Rio Negro

sinks at once under the Solimoens; at all events, the latter flows

across its mouth, seeming to bar it completely. It must not be supposed,

from the change of name, that the Solimoens is anything more than the

continuation of the Amazons; just as the so-called river Marañon is its

continuation above Nauta, after crossing the Brazilian frontier. It is

always the same gigantic stream, traversing the continent for its whole

breadth; but it has received in its lower, middle, and upper course the

three local names of the Amazons, the Solimoens, and the Marañon. At the

point where the Brazilians give it the name of Solimoens it takes a

sudden turn to the south, just where the Rio Negro enters it from the

north, so that the two form a sharp angle.

We landed at Manaos and went at once to the house which Major Coutinho,

with his usual foresight, has provided for us. As the day of our arrival

was uncertain, the arrangements were not completed, and the house was

entirely empty when we entered it. In about ten minutes, however, chairs

and tables—brought, I believe, from the house of a friend—made their

appearance, the rooms were promptly furnished, and presently assumed a

very cosey and comfortable look, notwithstanding their brick floors and

bare walls. We have some pleasant neighbors in a family living almost

next door to us, old and intimate friends of Major Coutinho, who receive

us for his sake as if we also had a claim on their affection. Here we

rest from our wanderings, for a week at least, until the steamer sails

for Tabatinga.

_September 9th._—We have passed such quiet days here, so far as any

variety of incident is concerned, that there is little to record. Work

has gone on as usual; the whole collection of fishes, made since we left

Pará, has been so repacked as to leave it in readiness to be shipped for

that port. Our companions have rejoined us on their return from the

Tapajoz, bringing with them considerable collections from that river

also. They seem to have enjoyed their excursion greatly, and describe

the river as scarcely inferior to the Amazons itself in breadth and

grandeur, having wide sand-beaches where the waves roll in, when the

wind is high, almost as upon a sea-shore. Mr. Agassiz has done nothing

in the way of collecting here, with the exception of securing such

fishes as are to be had in the immediate neighborhood; he reserves his

voyage on the Rio Negro for our return. And, by the way, we are met here

by another practical evidence of the good-will of the Brazilian

government. On leaving Rio, the Emperor had offered Mr. Agassiz the use

of a small government steamer to make explorations on the Negro and

Madeira rivers. On our arrival at Pará he was told that the steamer had

been found to be so much out of repair that she was considered unsafe.

Under these circumstances, he supposed that we should be obliged to

resort to the small boats generally used. But to-day an official

communication informs him that, as the Piraja is found not to be

serviceable, another steamer will be furnished, which will meet us at

Manaos on our return from the Upper Amazons. The following letter,

acknowledging this favor, to the President of Pará, through whom it was

received, contains some account of the scientific results thus far, and

may not be uninteresting.

MANAOS, 8 Septembre, 1865.

_A Son Excellence M. Couto de Magalhaēs, Président du Pará._

MON CHER MONSIEUR:—Je vous remercie infiniment de l’aimable lettre

que vous avez eu la bonté de m’écrire la semaine dernière et je

m’empresse de vous faire part des succès extraordinaires qui

continuent à couronner nos efforts. Il est certain dès-à-présent que

le nombre des poissons qui peuplent l’Amazone excède de beaucoup

tout ce que l’on avait imaginé jusqu’ici et que leur distribution

est très limitée en totalité, bien qu’il y ait un petit nombre

d’espèces qui nous suivent depuis Pará et d’autres pour une étendue

plus ou moins considérable. Vous vous rappelez peut-être qu’en

faisant allusion à mes espérances je vous dis un jour que je croyais

à la possibilité de trouver deux cent cinquante à trois cents

espèces de poissons dans tout le bassin de l’Amazone; et bien

aujourd’hui, même avant d’avoir franchi le tiers du cours principal

du fleuve et remonté par ci par là seulement quelques lieues au delà

de ses bords j’en ai déjà obtenu plus de trois cents. C’est inouï;

surtout si l’on considère que le nombre total connu des naturalistes

ne va pas au tiers de ce que j’ai déjà recueilli. Ce résultat laisse

à peine entrevoir ce qu’on découvrira un jour lorsqu’on explorera

avec le même soin tous les affluents du grand fleuve. Ce serait une

entreprise digne de vous de faire explorer l’Araguay dans tout son

cours pour nous apprendre combien d’assemblages differents d’espèces

distinctes se rencontrent successivement depuis ses sources jusqu’à

sa jonction avec le Tocantins et plus bas jusqu’à l’Amazone. Vous

avez déjà une sorte de propriété scientifique sur ce fleuve à

laquelle vous ajouteriez de nouveaux droits en fournissant à la

science ces renseignements.

Permettez moi de vous exprimer toute ma gratitude pour l’intérêt que

vous prenez à mon jeune compagnon de voyage. M. Ward le mérite

également par sa grande jeunesse, son courage et son dévouement à la

science. M. Epaminondas vient de me faire part de vos généreuses

intentions à mon égard et de me dire que vous vous proposez

d’expédier un vapeur à Manaos pour prendre la place du Piraja et

faciliter notre exploration du Rio Negro et du Rio Madeira. Je ne

sais trop comment vous remercier pour une pareille faveur; tout ce

que je puis vous dire dès-à-présent c’est que cette faveur me

permettra de faire une exploration de ces fleuves qui me serait

impossible sans cela. Et si le résultat de ces recherches est aussi

favorable que je l’attends, l’honneur en reviendra avant tout à la

libéralité du gouvernement Brésilien. Entraîné par les résultats que

j’ai obtenus jusqu’ici, je pense que si les circonstances nous sont

favorables en arrivant à Tabatinga, nous ferons une poussée jusque

dans la partie inférieure du Pérou[59] tandis que mes compagnons

exploreront les fleuves intermédiaires entre cette ville et Teffé;

en sorte que nous ne serons probablement pas de retour à Manaos

avant la fin du mois d’Octobre.

Agréez, mon cher Monsieur, l’assurance de ma haute consideration et

de mon parfait dévouement.

L. AGASSIZ.[60]

There is little to be said of the town of Manaos. It consists of a small

collection of houses, half of which seem going to decay, and indeed one

can hardly help smiling at the tumble-down edifices, dignified by the

name of public buildings, the treasury, the legislative hall, the

post-office, the custom-house, the President’s mansion, &c. The position

of the city, however, at the junction of the Rio Negro, the Amazons, and

the Solimoens, is commanding; and, insignificant as it looks at present,

Manaos will no doubt be a great centre of commerce and navigation at

some future time.[61]

But when we consider the vast extent of land covered by almost

impenetrable forest and the great practical difficulties in the way of

the settler here, arising from the climate, the insects, the obstacles

to communication, the day seems yet far distant when a numerous

population will cover the banks of the Amazons, when steamers will ply

between its ports as between those of the Mississippi, and when all

nations will share in the rich products of its valley.[62] One of my

greatest pleasures in Manaos has been to walk toward the neighboring

forest at nightfall, and see the water-carriers, Indian and negro,

coming down from the narrow pathways with their great red earthen jars

on their heads. They make quite a procession at morning and evening; for

the river water is not considered good, and the town is chiefly supplied

from pools and little streamlets in the woods. Many of these pools, very

prettily situated and embowered in trees, are used as bathing-places;

one, which is quite large and deep, is a special favorite; it has been

thatched over with palm, and has also a little thatched shed adjoining,

to serve as a dressing-room.

Yesterday we passed an interesting morning at a school for Indian

children a little way out of the city. We were astonished at the aptness

they showed for the arts of civilization so uncongenial to our North

American Indians: it reminded one that they are the successors, on the

same soil, of the races who founded the ancient civilizations of Peru

and Mexico, so much beyond any social organization known to have existed

among the more northern tribes. In one room they were turning out very

nice pieces of furniture,—chairs, tables, book-stands, &c., with a

number of smaller articles, such as rulers and paper-knives. In another

room they were working in iron, in another making fine fancy articles of

straw. Besides these trades, they are taught to read, write, and cipher,

and to play on various musical instruments. For music they are said to

have, like the negro, a natural aptitude. In the main building were the

school-rooms, dormitories, store-rooms, kitchen, &c. We were there just

at the breakfast hour, and had the satisfaction of seeing them sit down

to a hearty meal, consisting of a large portion of bread and butter and

a generous bowl of coffee. I could not help contrasting the expression

of these boys, when they were all collected, with that of a number of

negro children assembled together; the latter always so jolly and

careless, the former shy, serious, almost sombre. They looked, however,

very intelligent, and we were told that those of pure Indian descent

were more so than the half-breeds. The school is supported by the

province, but the fund is small, and the number of pupils is very

limited. Our pleasure in this school was somewhat marred by hearing

that, though it purports to be an orphan asylum, children who have

parents loath to part with them are sometimes taken by force from the

wild Indian tribes to be educated here. The appearance of a dark cell,

barred up like the cell of a wild animal, which was used as a prison for

refractory scholars, rather confirmed this impression. Whenever I have

made inquiries about these reports, I have been answered, that, if such

cases occur, it is only where children are taken from an utterly savage

and degraded condition, and that it is better they should be civilized

by main force than not civilized at all. It may be doubted, however,

whether any providence but the providence of God is so wise and so

loving that it may safely exercise a compulsory charity. Speaking of the

education of the Indians reminds me that we have been fortunate enough

to meet a French padre here who has furnished Mr. Agassiz with a package

of simple elementary Portuguese books, which he has already sent to our

literary Indian friend, José Maia. This kind priest offers also to take

the boy, for whom Maia was so anxious to secure an education, into the

seminary of which he is director, and where he receives charity

scholars.

_September 12th._—On Sunday we left Manaos in the steamer for Tabatinga,

and are again on our way up the river. I insert here a letter which

gives a sort of _résumé_ of the scientific work up to this moment, and

shows also how constantly we were attended by the good-will of the

employés on the Amazonian line of steamers, and that of their excellent

director, Mr. Pimenta Bueno.

MANAOS, 8 Septembre, 1865.

_Senhor Pimenta Bueno._

MON CHER AMI:—Vous serez probablement surpris de recevoir seulement

quelques lignes de moi après le temps qui s’est écoulé depuis ma

dernière lettre. Le fait est que depuis Obydos je suis allé de

surprise en surprise et que j’ai à peine eu le temps de prendre soin

des collections que nous avons faites, sans pouvoir les étudier

convenablement. C’est ainsi que pendant le semaine que nous avons

passée dans les environs de Villa Bella, au Lago José Assú et Lago

Maximo, nous avons recueilli cent quatre-vingts espèces de poissons

dont les deux tiers au moins sont nouvelles et ceux de mes

compagnons qui sont restés à Santarem et dans le Tapajoz en ont

rapporté une cinquantaine, ce qui fait déjà bien au delà de trois

cents espèces en comptant celles de Porto do Moz, de Gurupá, de

Tajapurú et de Monte Alégre. Vous voyez qu’avant même d’avoir

parcouru le tiers du cours de l’Amazone, le nombre des poissons est

plus du triple de celui de toutes les espèces connues jusqu’à ce

jour, et je commence à m’apercevoir que nous ne ferons qu’effleurer

la surface du centre de ce grand bassin. Que sera-ce lorsqu’on

pourra étudier à loisir et dans l’époque la plus favorable tous ses

affluents. Aussi je prends dès-à-présent la résolution de faire de

plus nombreuses stations dans la partie supérieure du fleuve et de

prolonger mon séjour aussi long-temps que mes forces me le

permettront. Ne croyez pas cependant que j’oublie à qui je dois un

pareil succès. C’est vous qui m’avez mis sur la voie en me faisant

connaître les ressources de la fôret et mieux encore en me

fournissant les moyens d’en tirer parti. Merci, mille fois, merci.

Je dois aussi tenir grand compte de l’assistance que m’ont fournie

les agents de la compagnie sur tous les points où nous avons touché.

Notre aimable commandant s’est également évertué, et pendant que

j’explorais les lacs des environs de Villa Bella il a fait lui-même

une très belle collection dans l’Amazone même, où il a recueilli de

nombreuses petites espèces que les pecheurs négligent toujours. A

l’arrivée du Belem, j’ai reçu votre aimable lettre et une partie de

l’alcohol que j’avais demandé à M. Bond. Je lui écris aujourd’hui

pour qu’il m’en envoie encore une partie à Teffé et plus tard

davantage à Manaos. Je vous remercie pour le catalogue des poissons

du Pará; je vous le restituerai à notre retour, avec les additions

que je ferai pendant le reste du voyage. Adieu, mon cher ami.

Tout à vous,

L. AGASSIZ.[63]

Although no longer on board an independent steamer, we are still the

guests of the company, having government passages. Nothing can be more

comfortable than the travelling on these Amazonian boats. They are clean

and well kept, with good-sized state-rooms, which most persons use,

however, only as dressing-rooms, since it is always more agreeable to

sleep on the open deck in one’s hammock. The table is very well kept,

the fare good, though not varied. Bread is the greatest deficiency, but

hard biscuit makes a tolerable substitute. Our life is after this

fashion. We turn out of our hammocks at dawn, go down stairs to make our

toilets, and have a cup of hot coffee below. By this time the decks are

generally washed and dried, the hammocks removed, and we can go above

again. Between then and the breakfast hour, at half past ten o’clock, I

generally study Portuguese, though my lessons are somewhat interrupted

by watching the shore and the trees, a constant temptation when we are

coasting along near the banks. At half past ten or eleven o’clock

breakfast is served, and after that the glare of the sun becomes trying,

and I usually descend to the cabin, where we make up our journals, and

write during the middle of the day. At three o’clock I consider that the

working hours are over, and then I take a book and sit in my

lounging-chair on deck, and watch the scenery, and the birds and the

turtles, and the alligators if there are any, and am lazy in a general

way. At five o’clock dinner is served, (the meals being always on deck,)

and after that begins the delight of the day. At that hour it grows

deliciously cool, the sunsets are always beautiful, and we go to the

forward deck and sit there till nine o’clock in the evening. Then comes

tea, and then to our hammocks; I sleep in mine most profoundly till

morning.

To-day we stopped at a small station on the north side of the river

called Barreira das Cudajas. The few houses stand on a bank of red

drift, slightly stratified in some parts, and affording a support for

the river-mud, shored up against it. Since then, in our progress, we

have seen the same formation in several localities.

_September 13th._—This morning the steamer dropped anchor at the little

town of Coari on the Coari River,—one of the rivers of black water. We

were detained at this place for some hours, taking in wood; so slow a

process here, that an American, accustomed to the rapid methods of work

at home, looks on in incredulous astonishment. A crazy old canoe, with

its load of wood, creeps out from the shore, the slowness of its advance

accounted for by the fact that of its two rowers one has a broken

paddle, the other a long stick, to serve as apologies for oars. When the

boat reaches the side of the steamer, a line of men is formed some eight

or ten in number, and the wood is passed from hand to hand, log by log,

each log counted as it arrives. Mr. Agassiz timed them this morning, and

found that they averaged about seven logs a minute. Under these

circumstances, one can understand that stopping to wood is a long

affair. Since we left Coari we have been coasting along close to the

land, the continental shore, and not that of an island. The islands are

so large and numerous in the Amazons, that often when we believe

ourselves between the northern and southern margins of the river, we are

in fact between island shores. We have followed the drift almost

constantly to-day,—the same red drift with which we have become so

familiar in South America. Sometimes it rises in cliffs and banks above

the mud deposit, sometimes it crops out through the mud, occasionally

mingling with it and partially stratified, and in one locality it

overlaid a gray rock in place, the nature of which Mr. Agassiz could not

determine, but which was distinctly stratified and slightly tilted. The

drift is certainly more conspicuous as we ascend the river; is this

because we approach its source, or because the nature of the vegetation

allows us to see more of the soil? Since we left Manaos the forest has

been less luxuriant; it is lower on the Solimoens than on the Amazons,

more ragged and more open. The palms are also less numerous than

hitherto, but there is a tree here which rivals them in dignity. Its

flat dome, rounded but not conical, towers above the forest, and, when

seen from a distance, has an almost architectural character, so regular

is its form. This majestic tree, called the Sumaumeira (Eriodendron

Sumauma), is one of the few trees in this climate which shed their

leaves periodically, and now it lifts its broad rounded summit above the

green mass of vegetation around it, quite bare of foliage. Symmetrical

as it is, the branches are greatly ramified and very knotty. The bark is

white. It would seem that the season approaches when the Sumaumeiras

should take on their green garb again, for a few are already beginning

to put out young leaves. Beside this giant of the forest, the Imbauba

(Cecropia), much lower here, however, than in Southern Brazil, and the

Taxi, with its white flowers and brown buds, are very conspicuous along

the banks. Close upon the shore the arrow-grass, some five or six feet

in height, grows in quantity; it is called “frexas” here, being used by

the Indians to make their arrows.

_September 14th._—For the last day or two the shore has been higher than

we have seen it since leaving Manaos. We constantly pass cliffs of red

drift with a shallow beach of mud deposit resting against them; not

infrequently a gray rock, somewhat like clay slate, crops out below the

drift; this rock is very distinctly stratified, tilting sometimes to the

west, sometimes to the east, always unconformable with the overlying

drift.[64] The color of the drift changes occasionally, being sometimes

nearly white in this neighborhood instead of red. We are coming now to

that part of the Amazons where the wide sand-beaches occur, the

breeding-places of the turtles and alligators. It is not yet quite the

season for gathering the turtle-eggs, making the turtle-butter, &c., but

we frequently see the Indian huts on the beaches, and their stakes set

up for spreading and drying fish, which is one of the great articles of

commerce here. This morning we have passed several hours off the town of

Ega, or Teffé as the Brazilians call it. It takes its name from the

river Teffé, but the town itself stands on a small lake, formed by the

river just before it joins the Amazons. The entrance to the lake, which

is broken by a number of little channels or igarapés, and the approach

to the town, are exceedingly pretty. The town itself, with a wide beach

in front, standing on the slope of a green hill, where sheep and cattle,

a rare sight in this region, are grazing, looks very inviting. We

examined it with interest, for some of the party at least will return to

this station for the purpose of making collections.

_September 15th._—For the last two or three days we have been holding

frequent discussions as to the best disposition of our forces after

reaching Tabatinga;—a source of great anxiety to Mr. Agassiz, the time

we have to spend being so short, and the subjects of investigation so

various and so important. Should he give up the idea of continuing, in

person, his study of the fishes in the upper Amazons, leaving only some

parties to make collections, and going himself into Peru, to visit at

least the first spur of the Andes, with the purpose of ascertaining

whether any vestiges of glaciers are to be found in the valleys, and

also of making a collection of fishes from the mountain streams; or

should he renounce the journey into Peru for the present, and, making a

station somewhere in this region for the next month or two, complete, as

far as may be, his investigation of the distribution and development of

fishes in the Solimoens? Had the result of the Peruvian journey been

more certain, the decision would have been easier; but it is more than

likely that the torrential rains of this latitude have decomposed the

surface and swept away all traces of glaciers, if they ever existed at

so low a level. To go on, therefore, seemed a little like giving up a

certain for an uncertain result. Earnestly desirous of making the best

use of his time and opportunities here, this doubt has disturbed Mr.

Agassiz’s waking and sleeping thoughts for several days past. Yesterday

morning, at Teffé, a most unexpected adviser appeared in the midst of

our council of war. Insignificant in size, this individual,

nevertheless, brought great weight to the decision. The intruder was a

small fish with his mouth full of young ones. The practical plea was

irresistible,—embryology carried the day. A chance of investigating so

extraordinary a process of development, not only in this species but in

several others said to rear their young in the same fashion, was not to

be thrown away; and, besides, there was the prospect of making a

collection and a series of colored drawings, from the life, of the

immense variety of fishes in the river and lake of Teffé, and perhaps of

studying the embryology of the turtles and alligators in their breeding

season. Mr. Agassiz, therefore, decides to return to Teffé with his

artist and two or three other assistants, and to make a station there

for a month at least, leaving Mr. Bourget, with our Indian fisherman, at

Tabatinga to collect in that region, and sending Mr. James and Mr.

Talisman to the river Putumayo, or Iça, and afterwards to the Hyutahy

for the same purpose. This dispersion of parties to collect

simultaneously in different areas, divided from each other by

considerable distances, will show how the fishes are distributed, and

whether their combinations differ in these localities as they have been

found to do in the Lower Amazons.

I insert here a letter to the Emperor on the subject of this curious

fish, which happened to be one which Mr. Agassiz had formerly dedicated

to him.

TEFFÉ, 14 Septembre, 1865.

SIRE:—En arrivant ici ce matin j’ai eu la surprise la plus agréable

et la plus inattendue. Le premier poisson qui me fut apporté était

l’Acara que votre Majesté a bien voulu me permettre de lui dédier et

par un bonheur inouï c’était l’époque de la ponte et il avait la

bouche pleine de petits vivants, en voie de développement. Voilà

donc le fait le plus incroyable en embryologie pleinement confirmé,

et il ne me reste plus qu’à étudier en detail et à loisir tous les

changements que subissent ces petits jusqu’au moment où ils quittent

leur singulier nid, afin que je puisse publier un récit complet de

cette singulière histoire. Mes prévisions sur la distribution des

poissons se confirment; le fleuve est habité par plusieurs faunes

ichthyologiques très distinctes, qui n’ont pour lien commun qu’un

très petit nombre d’espèces qu’on rencontre partout. Il reste

maintenant à préciser les limites de ces régions ichthyologiques et

peut-être me laisserai-je entraîner à consacrer quelque temps à

cette étude, si je trouve les moyens d’y parvenir. Il y a maintenant

une question qui devient fort intéressante, c’est de savoir jusqu’à

quel point le même phénomène se reproduit dans chacun des grands

affluents du Rio Amazonas, ou en d’autres termes si les poissons des

régions supérieures du Rio Madeira et du Rio Negro, etc., etc., sont

les mêmes que ceux du cours inférieur de ces fleuves. Quant à la

diversité même des poissons du bassin tout entier mes prévisions

sont de beaucoup dépassées. Avant d’arriver à Manaos j’avais déjà

recueilli plus de trois cents espèces, c. à. d. le triple des

espèces connues jusqu’à ce jour au moins. La moitié environ out pu

être peintes sur le vivant par M. Burkhardt; en sorte que si je puis

parvenir à publier tous ces documents, les renseignements que je

pourrai fournir sur ce sujet dépasseront de beaucoup tout ce que

l’on a publié jusqu’à ce jour.

Je serais bien heureux d’apprendre que Votre Majesté n’a pas

rencontré de difficultés dans son voyage et qu’Elle a atteint

pleinement le but qu’Elle se proposait. Nous sommes ici sans

nouvelles du Sud, depuis que nous avons quitté Rio, et tout ce que

nous avions appris alors était qu’après une traversée assez orageuse

votre Majesté avait atteint le Rio Grande. Que Dieu protège et

bénisse votre Majesté! Avec les sentiments du plus profond respect

et de la reconnaissance la plus vive,

Je suis de votre Majesté

le très humble et très obéissant serviteur,

L. AGASSIZ.[65]

The character of the banks yesterday and to-day continues unchanged;

they are rather high, rising now and then in bluffs and presenting the

same mixture of reddish drift and mud deposit, with the gray, slaty rock

below, cropping out occasionally. This morning we are stopping to wood

at a station opposite the village of Fonte Bôa. Here Mr. Agassiz has had

an opportunity of going on shore and examining this formation. He finds

a thick bed of ferruginous sandstone underlying a number of thinner beds

of mud clay, resembling old clay slate with cleavage. These beds are

overlaid by a bank of ochre-colored sandy clay (designated as drift

above), with hardly any signs of stratification. Yesterday we passed

several lakes, shut out from the river by mud-bars, and seemingly

haunted by waterfowl. In one we saw immense flocks of what looked at

that distance either like red Ibises or red spoonbills, and also numbers

of gulls. Our sportsmen looked longingly at them, and are impatient for

the time when we shall be settled on land, and they can begin to make

havoc among the birds.

_September 17th._—Last evening we took in wood from the shore some miles

below the town of Tonantins. I sat watching the Indians on the bank, of

whom there were some fifteen or twenty, men, women, and children; the

men loading the wood, the women and children being there apparently to

look on. They had built a fire on the bank, and hung their nets or

cotton tents, under which they sleep, on the trees behind. They made a

wild group, passing to and fro in the light of the fire, the care of

which seemed the special charge of a tall, gaunt, weird-looking woman,

who would have made a good Meg Merrilies. She seemed to have but one

garment,—a long, brown, stuff robe, girt round the waist; as she strode

about the fire, throwing on fresh logs and stirring the dying embers,

the flames blazed up in her face, lighting her tawny skin and long,

unkempt hair, flickering over the figures of women and children about

her, and shedding a warm glow over the forest which made the setting to

the picture. This is the only very tall Indian woman I have seen;

usually the women are rather short of stature. When the Indians had made

their preparations for the night, they heaped damp fuel on the fire till

it smouldered down and threw out thick clouds of smoke, enveloping the

sleeping-tents, and no doubt driving off effectually the clouds of

mosquitoes, from which the natives seem as great sufferers as strangers.

These upper stations on the Amazons are haunted by swarms of mosquitoes

at night, and during the day by a little biting fly called Pium, no less

annoying.

_September 18th._—Another pause last evening at the village of San

Paolo, standing on a ridge which rises quite steeply from the river and

sinks again into a ravine behind. Throughout all this region the banks

are eaten away by the river, large portions falling into the water at a

time, and carrying the trees with them. These land-slides are so

frequent and so extensive as to make travelling along the banks in small

boats quite dangerous. The scenery of the Solimoens is by no means so

interesting as that of the Lower Amazons. The banks are ragged and

broken, the forest lower, less luxuriant, and the palm growth very

fitful. For a day or two past we have scarcely seen any palms. One kind

seems common, however, namely, the Paxiuba Barriguda—Pa-shee-oo-ba

(Iriartea ventricosa), a species not unlike the Assai in dignity of

port, but remarkable for the swelling of its stem at half height, giving

it a sort of spindle shape. The cut of the foliage is peculiar also,

each leaflet being wedge-shaped. The steamer is often now between the

shores of the river itself instead of coasting along by the many lovely

islands which make the voyage between Pará and Manaos so diversified;

what is thus gained in dimensions is lost in picturesqueness of detail.

Then the element of human life and habitations is utterly wanting; one

often travels for a day without meeting even so much as a hut. But if

men are not to be seen, animals are certainly plenty; as our steamer

puffs along, great flocks of birds rise up from the shore, turtles pop

their black noses out of the water, alligators show themselves

occasionally, and sometimes a troop of brown Capivari scuttles up the

bank, taking refuge in the trees at our approach. To-morrow morning we

reach Tabatinga, and touch the farthest point of our journey.

_September 20th._—On Monday evening we arrived at Tabatinga, remaining

there till Wednesday morning to discharge the cargo,—a lengthy process,

with the Brazilian method of working. Tabatinga is the frontier town

between Brazil and Peru, and is dignified by the name of a military

station, though when one looks at the two or three small mounted guns on

the bank, the mud house behind them constituting barracks, with half a

dozen soldiers lounging in front of it, one cannot but think that the

fortification is not a very formidable one.[66] The town itself standing

on a mud bluff, deeply ravined and cracked in many directions, consists

of some dozen ruinous houses built around an open square. Of the

inhabitants I saw but little, for it was toward evening when I went on

shore, and they were already driven under shelter by the mosquitoes. One

or two looked out from their doors and gave me a friendly warning not to

proceed unless I was prepared to be devoured, and indeed the buzzing

swarm about me soon drove me back to the steamer. The mosquitoes by

night and the Piums by day are said to render life almost intolerable

here. Under these circumstances we could form little idea of the

character of the vegetation in our short stay. But we made the

acquaintance of one curious palm, the Tucum, a species of Astrocaryum,

the fibre of which makes an excellent material for weaving hammocks,

fishing-nets, and the like. It is gradually becoming an important

article of commerce. The approach to Tabatinga, with two or three

islands in the neighborhood, numerous igarapés opening out of the river,

and the Hyavary emptying into it, is, however, one of the prettiest

parts of the Solimoens. We found here four members of a Spanish

scientific commission, who have been travelling several years in South

and Central America, and whose track we have crossed several times

without meeting them. They welcomed the arrival of the steamer with

delight, having awaited their release at Tabatinga for two or three

weeks. The party consisted of Drs. Almagro, Spada, Martinez, and Isern.

They had just accomplished an adventurous journey, having descended the

Napo on a raft, which their large collection of live animals had turned

into a sort of Noah’s ark. After various risks and exposures they had

arrived at Tabatinga, having lost almost all their clothing, except what

they wore, by shipwreck. Fortunately, their papers and collections were

saved.[67] We are now on our way down the river again, having left Mr.

Bourget at Tabatinga to pass a month in making collections in that

region, and dropped Mr. James and Mr. Talisman last evening at San

Paolo, where they are to get a canoe and Indians for their further

journey to the Iça. This morning, while stopping to wood at Fonte Bôa,

Mr. Agassiz went on shore and collected a very interesting series of

fossil plants in the lower mud deposit; he was also very successful in

making a small collection of fishes, containing several new species,

during the few hours we passed at this place.

_September 25th._—Teffé. On Friday, the day after my last date, we were

within two or three hours of Teffé; we had just finished packing our

various effects, and were closing our letters to be mailed from Manaos,

when the steamer came to a sudden pause with that dead, sullen,

instantaneous stop which means mischief. The order to reverse the

engines was given instantly, but we had driven with all our force into

the bed of the river, and there we remained, motionless. This is

sometimes rather a serious accident at the season when the waters are

falling, steamers having been occasionally stranded for a number of

weeks. It is not easily guarded against, the river bottom changing so

constantly and so suddenly that even the most experienced pilots cannot

always avoid disaster. They may pass with perfect safety in their upward

voyage over a place where, on their return, they find a formidable bank

of mud. During three hours the crew worked ineffectually, trying to back

the steamer off, or sinking the anchor at a distance to drag her back

upon it. At five o’clock in the afternoon the sky began to look black

and lowering, and presently a violent squall, with thunder and rain,

broke upon us. The wind did, in an instant, what man and steam together

had failed to do in hours. As the squall struck the steamer on her side,

she vibrated, veered and floated free. There was a general stir of

delight at this sudden and unexpected liberation, for the delay was

serious to all. One or two of the passengers were merchants, to whom it

was important to meet the steamer of the 25th at Manaos, which connects

with other steamers all along the coast; and the members of the Spanish

scientific commission, if they could not at once transfer their effects

to the other steamer, would not only miss the next European steamer, but

must be at the expense and care of storing their various luggage and

maintaining their live stock at Manaos for a fortnight. And lastly, to

Mr. Agassiz himself it was a serious disappointment to lose two or three

days out of the precious month for investigations at Teffé. Therefore,

every face beamed when the kindly shock of the wind set us afloat again;

but the work, so vainly spent to release us, was but too efficient in

keeping us prisoners. The anchor, which had been sunk in the mud at some

distance, was so deeply buried that it was difficult to raise it, and in

the effort to do so we grounded again. Indeed, environed as we were by

mud and sand, it was no easy matter to find a channel out of them. We

now remained motionless all night, though the Captain was unremitting in

his efforts and kept the men at work till morning, when, at about seven

o’clock, the boat worked herself free at last, and we thought our

troubles fairly over. But the old proverb “There’s many a slip ‘twixt

the cup and the lip” never was truer; on starting once more we found

that, in the strain and shock to which the ship had been submitted, the

rudder was broken. In view of this new disaster, the passengers for Pará

gave up all hope of meeting the steamer at Manaos, and the rest resigned

themselves to waiting with such philosophy as they could muster. The

whole of that day and the following night were spent in rigging up a new

rudder, and it was not until eight o’clock on Sunday morning that we

were once more on our way, arriving at Teffé at eleven o’clock.

-----

Footnote 59:

As will be seen hereafter, want of time and the engrossing character

of his work in the Amazons, compelled Mr. Agassiz to renounce the

journey into Peru, as also the ascent of the river Madeira.

Footnote 60:

_To His Excellency M. Couto de Magalhaēs, President of Pará._

MY DEAR SIR:—I thank you sincerely for the kind letter you were so

good as to write me last week, and I hasten to inform you of the

extraordinary success which continues to crown our efforts. It is

certain from this time forth, that the number of fishes inhabiting the

Amazons greatly exceeds all that has hitherto been imagined, and that

their distribution is very limited on the whole, though a small number

of species have followed us since we left Pará and others have a range

more or less extensive. You remember, perhaps, that, when alluding to

my hopes, I told you one day that I believed in the possibility of

finding from two hundred and fifty to three hundred species of fish in

the whole basin of the Amazons; even now, having passed over less than

one third of the main stream, and only diverged here and there to some

points beyond its shores, I have already obtained more than three

hundred. It is incredible, above all, if one considers that the total

number known to naturalists does not reach one third of what I have

already collected. This result scarcely allows one to foresee the

discoveries to be made whenever the affluents of the great river are

explored with the same care. An exploration of the Araguay for its

whole course, in order to teach us how many different combinations of

distinct species occur in succession, from its sources to its junction

with the Tocantins and lower down till it meets the Amazons, would be

an enterprise worthy of you. You have already a sort of scientific

property in this river, to which you would add new rights in

furnishing science with this information.

Permit me to express to you all the gratitude I feel for the interest

you take in my young travelling companion. Mr. Ward is worthy of it,

alike from his youth, his courage, and his devotion to science. Mr.

Epaminondas has just communicated to me your generous intentions

towards myself, and your purpose of sending a steamer to Manaos to

take the place of the Piraja, and facilitate our exploration of the

Rio Negro and the Rio Madeira. I do not know how to thank you enough;

all that I can say is, that this favor will allow me to make an

exploration of these rivers which would be otherwise impossible. If

the result of these researches be as favorable as my hopes, the honor

will be due, in the first instance, to the liberality of the Brazilian

government. Encouraged by the results thus far obtained, I think that,

if the circumstances are favorable, on arriving at Tabatinga, we shall

make a push into the lower part of Peru, while my companions will

explore the rivers intermediate between this town and Teffé; so that

we shall probably not return to Manaos before the end of October.

Accept, my dear Sir, the assurance of my high regard, &c., &c.

L. AGASSIZ.

Footnote 61:

Some English travellers have criticised the position of the town, and

regretted that it is not placed lower down, at the immediate junction

of the Rio Negro with the Solimoens. But its actual situation is much

better, on account of the more quiet port, removed as it is from the

violent currents caused by the meeting of the two rivers.—L. A.

Footnote 62:

When this was written there was hardly any prospect of the early

opening of the Amazons to the free commerce of the world. The

circumstance that since the 7th of September last this great

fresh-water ocean has been made free to the mercantile shipping of all

nations will, no doubt, immensely accelerate the development of

civilization in these desert regions. No act could have exhibited more

unequivocally the liberal policy which actuates the Brazilian

government than this. To complete the great work, two things are still

wanting,—a direct high road between the upper tributaries of the Rio

Madeira and Rio Paraguay, and the abolition of the subsidies granted

to privileged companies, that the colossal traffic of which the whole

basin is susceptible may truly be thrown open to a fair

competition.—L. A.

Footnote 63:

_Senahor Pimenta Bueno._

MY DEAR FRIEND:—You will probably be surprised to receive only a few

lines from me after the time which has elapsed since my last letter.

The truth is, that, since Obydos, I have passed from surprise to

surprise, and that I have scarcely had time to take care of the

collections we have made, without being able to study them properly.

Thus, during the week we spent in the environs of Villa Bella, at Lago

José Assú and Lago Maximo, we have collected one hundred and eighty

species of fishes, two thirds of which, at least, are new, while those

of my companions who remained at Santarem and upon the Tapajoz have

brought back some fifty more, making already more than three hundred

species, including those of Porto do Moz, of Gurupá, of Tajapurú, and

of Monte Alégre. You see that before having ascended the Amazons for

one third of its course, the number of fishes is more than triple that

of all the species known thus far, and I begin to perceive that we

shall not do more than skim over the surface of the centre of this

great basin. What will it be when it becomes possible to study all its

affluents at leisure and in the most favorable season! I have resolved

to make more numerous stations in the upper part of the river and to

stay as long as my strength and means will allow. Do not think,

however, that I forget to whom I owe such a success. It is you who

have put me on the path, by making known to me the resources of the

forest, and, better still, by furnishing me with the means to profit

by them. Thanks, a thousand times, thanks. I ought also to acknowledge

the assistance afforded me by the agents of the Company, at all the

points where we have touched. Our amiable commander has also exerted

himself, and while I explored the lakes in the neighborhood of Villa

Bella, he made a very fine collection in the Amazons, especially of

the numerous small species always overlooked by fishermen. On the

arrival of the Belem I received your kind letter and a part of the

alcohol I had asked from Mr. Bond. I am writing to-day to ask him to

send me a part to Teffé, and, somewhat later, more to Manaos. Thank

you for the catalogue of Pará fishes; I shall give it back on our

return, with the additions I shall make during the remainder of the

voyage. Adieu, my dear friend.

Ever yours,

L. AGASSIZ.

Footnote 64:

In the course of the investigation, I have ascertained that this slaty

rock, as well as the hard sandstone seen along the river-banks at

Manaos, forms part of the great drift formation of the Amazons, and

that there is neither old red sandstone, nor trias, here, as older

observers supposed.—L. A.

Footnote 65:

TEFFÉ, 14 September, 1865.

SIRE:—On arriving here this morning I had the most agreeable and

unexpected surprise. The first fish brought to me was the Acara, which

your Majesty kindly permitted me to dedicate to you, and by an

unlooked-for good fortune it was the breeding season, and it had its

mouth full of little young ones in the process of development. Here,

then, is the most incredible fact in embryology fully confirmed, and

it remains for me only to study, in detail and at leisure, all the

changes which the young undergo up to the moment when they leave their

singular nest, in order that I may publish a complete account of this

curious history. My anticipations as to the distribution of fishes are

confirmed; the river is inhabited by several very distinct

ichthyological faunæ, which have, as a common link, only a very small

number of species to be met with everywhere. It remains now to

ascertain with precision the limits of these ichthyological regions,

and I may perhaps be drawn on to devote some time to this study, if I

find the means of accomplishing it. There is a question which now

becomes very interesting; it is to know how far the same phenomenon is

reproduced in each one of the great affluents of the river Amazons,

or, in other words, whether the fishes of the upper regions of the Rio

Madeira, the Rio Negro, &c., &c., are the same as those of the lower

course of these rivers. As to the diversity of fishes in the whole

basin, my expectations are far surpassed. Before arriving at Manaos I

had already collected more than three hundred species, that is to say,

at least three times the number of species thus far known. About half

have been painted from life by Mr. Burkhardt; if I can succeed in

publishing all these documents, the information I shall be able to

furnish on this subject will exceed all that has been thus far made

known. I should be very glad to learn that your Majesty has not met

with difficulties on the voyage, and has been able fully to accomplish

the ends proposed. We are here without news from the South since we

left Rio, and all we had learned then was, that after a very stormy

passage your Majesty had reached the Rio Grande. May God protect and

bless your Majesty!

With sentiments of the most profound respect and the liveliest

gratitude, I am

Your Majesty’s very humble and obedient servant,

L. AGASSIZ.

Footnote 66:

At this point the Amazonian meets the Peruvian steamer, and they

exchange cargoes. Formerly the Brazilian company of Amazonian steamers

extended its line of travel to Laguna, at the mouth of the Huallaga.

Now this part of the journey has passed into the hands of a Peruvian

company, whose steamers run up to Urimaguas on the Huallaga. They are,

however, by no means so comfortable as the Brazilian steamers, having

little or no accommodation for passengers. The upper Marañon is

navigable for large steamers as far as Jaen, as are also its

tributaries, the Huallaga and Ucayali on the south, the Moronha,

Pastazza, and Napo on the north, to a great distance above their

junction with the main stream. There is reason to believe that all

these larger affluents of the Amazons will before long have their

regular lines of steamers like the great river itself. The opening of

the Amazons, no doubt, will hasten this result.—L. A.

Footnote 67:

These gentlemen descended the river with us as far as Teffé, and we

afterwards heard of their safe arrival in Madrid. They had, however,

suffered much in health, and Mr. Isern died soon after his return to

his native land.

CHAPTER VII.

LIFE IN TEFFÉ.

ASPECT OF TEFFÉ.—SITUATION.—DESCRIPTION OF HOUSES.—FISHING

EXCURSION.—ASTONISHING VARIETY OF FISHES.—ACARA.—SCARCITY OF

LABORERS.—OUR INDOORS MAN.—BRUNO.—ALEXANDRINA.—PLEASANT

WALKS.—MANDIOCA-SHED IN THE FOREST.—INDIAN ENCAMPMENT ON THE

BEACH.—EXCURSION TO FISHING LODGE ON THE SOLIMOENS.—AMAZONIAN

BEACHES.—BREEDING-PLACES OF TURTLES, FISHES, ETC.—ADROITNESS OF

INDIANS IN FINDING THEM.—DESCRIPTION OF A “SITIO.”—INDIAN

CLAY-EATERS.—CUIEIRA-TREE.—FISH HUNT.—FOREST LAKE.—WATER

BIRDS.—SUCCESS IN COLLECTING.—EVENING SCENE IN SITIO.—ALEXANDRINA

AS “AIDE SCIENTIFIQUE.”—FISH ANECDOTE.—RELATIONS BETWEEN FISHES AS

SHOWN BY THEIR EMBRYOLOGY.—NOTE UPON THE MARINE CHARACTER OF THE

AMAZONIAN FAUNÆ.—ACARA.—NEWS FROM THE PARTIES IN THE

INTERIOR.—RETURN OF PARTY FROM THE IÇA.—PREPARATIONS FOR

DEPARTURE.—NOTE ON GENERAL RESULT OF SCIENTIFIC WORK IN

TEFFÉ.—WAITING FOR THE STEAMER.—SKETCH OF

ALEXANDRINA.—MOCUIM.—THUNDER-STORM.—REPIQUETE.—GEOLOGICAL

OBSERVATIONS.

_September 27th._—Of all the little settlements we have seen on the

Amazons, Teffé looks the most smiling and pleasant. Just now the town,

or, as it should rather be called, the village, stands, as I have said,

above a broad sand-beach; in the rainy season, however, we are told that

the river covers this beach completely, and even encroaches on the

fields beyond, coming almost to the threshold of some of the dwellings.

The houses are generally built of mud, plastered over and roofed with

tiles, or thatched with palm. Almost all have a little ground about

them, enclosed in a picket fence, and planted with orange-trees and

different kinds of palms,—Cocoa-nut, Assais, and Pupunhas or

peach-palms. The latter bears, in handsome clusters, a fruit not unlike

the peach in size and coloring; it has a mealy character when cooked,

and is very palatable, eaten with sugar. The green hill behind the town,

on which cows and sheep are grazing,[68] slopes up to the forest, and

makes a pretty background to the picture. In approaching the village,

many little inlets of the lake and river give promise of pleasant canoe

excursions. Through our friend Major Coutinho we had already bespoken

lodgings, and to-day finds us as comfortably established as it is

possible for such wayfarers to be. Our house stands on an open green

field, running down to the water, and is enclosed only on two sides by

buildings. In front, it commands a pretty view of the beach and of the

opposite shore across the water. Behind, it has a little open ground

planted with two or three orange-trees, surrounding a turtle-tank, which

will be very convenient for keeping live specimens. A well-stocked

turtle-tank is to be found in almost every yard, as the people depend

largely upon turtles for their food. The interior of the house is very

commodious. On the right of the flagged entry is a large room already

transformed into a laboratory. Here are numerous kegs, cans, and barrels

for specimens, a swinging-shelf to keep birds and insects out of the way

of the ants, a table for drawing, and an immense empty packing-case, one

side of which serves as a table for cleaning and preparing birds, while

the open space beneath makes a convenient cupboard for keeping the

instruments and materials of one sort and another, used in the process.

After a little practice in travelling one learns to improvise the

conveniences for work almost without the accessories which seem

indispensable at home. Opposite to the laboratory on the other side of

the entry is a room of the same size, where the gentlemen have slung

their hammocks; back of this is my room, from the window of which,

looking into the court behind, I get a glimpse of some lovely Assai

palms and one or two orange-trees in full flower; adjoining that is the

dining-room, with a large closet leading out of it, used as a

storage-place for alcohol, and serving at this moment as a prison-house

for two live alligators who are awaiting execution there. The news of

our arrival has already gone abroad, and the fishermen and boys of the

village are bringing in specimens of all sorts,—alligators, turtles,

fish, insects, birds. Enough is already gathered to show what a rich

harvest may be expected in this neighborhood.

[Illustration: Veranda and Dining-room at Teffé.]

_September 28th._—Yesterday afternoon, between sunset and moonlight, our

neighbor Dr. Romualdo invited us to go with him and his friend Senhor

Joaō da Cunha on a fishing excursion into one of the pretty bayous that

open out to the lake. As our canoe entered it, lazy alligators were

lying about in the still glassy water, with their heads just resting

above the surface; a tall, gray heron stood on the shore, as if watching

his reflection, almost as distinct as himself, and a variety of

water-birds sailed over our heads as we intruded upon their haunts. When

we had reached a certain point, the Indians sprang up to their necks in

the water, (which was, by the way, unpleasantly warm,) and stretched the

net. After a few minutes, they dragged it into shore with a load of

fish, which seemed almost as wonderful as Peter’s miraculous draught. As

the net was landed the fish broke from it in hundreds, springing through

the meshes and over the edges, and literally covering the beach. The

Indians are very skilful in drawing the net, going before it and lashing

the water with long rods to frighten the fish and drive them in. Senhor

da Cunha, who is a very ardent lover of the sport, worked as hard as any

of the boatmen, plunging into the water to lend a hand at the net or

drive in the fish, and, when the draught was landed on the beach,

rushing about in the mud to catch the little fishes which jumped in

myriads through the meshes, with an enthusiasm equal to that of Mr.

Agassiz himself. The operation was repeated several times, always with

the same success, and we returned by moonlight with a boat-load of fish,

which Mr. Agassiz is examining this morning, while Mr. Burkhardt makes

colored drawings of the rarer specimens. Here, as elsewhere in the

Amazonian waters, the variety of species is bewildering. The collections

already number more than four hundred, including those from Pará, and,

while every day brings in new species, new genera are by no means

infrequent. The following letter to Professor Milne Edwards, of the

Jardin des Plantes, gives some account of the work in this department.

TEFFÉ, le 22 Septembre, 1865.

MON CHER AMI ET TRÈS HONORÉ CONFRÈRE:—Me voici depuis deux mois dans le

bassin de l’Amazone et c’est ici que j’ai eu la douleur de recevoir la

nouvelle de la mort de mon vieil ami Valenciennes. J’en suis d’autant

plus affecté que personne plus que lui n’aurait apprécié les résultats

de mon voyage, dont je me réjouissais déjà de lui faire part

prochainement. Vous concevrez naturellement que c’est à la classe des

poissons que je consacre la meilleure partie de mon temps et ma récolte

excède toutes mes prévisions. Vous en jugerez par quelques données. En

atteignant Manaos, à la jonction du Rio Negro et de l’Amazonas, j’avais

déjà recueilli plus de trois cents espèces de poissons, dont la moitié

au moins ont été peintes sur le vivant c. à. d. d’après le poisson

nageant dans un grand vase en verre devant mon dessinateur. Je suis

souvent peiné de voir avec quelle légèreté on a publié des planches

coloriées de ces animaux. Ce n’est pas seulement tripler le nombre des

espèces connues, je compte les genres nouveaux par douzaines et j’ai

cinq ou six familles nouvelles pour l’Amazone et une voisine des

Gobioides entièrement nouvelle pour l’Ichthyologie. C’est surtout parmi

les petites espèces que je trouve le plus de nouveautés. J’ai des

Characins de cinq à six centimètres et au-dessous, ornés des teintes les

plus élégantes, des Cyprinodontes, se rapprochant un peu de ceux de Cuba

et des Etats-Unis, des Scomberésoces voisins du Bélone de la

Méditerranée, un nombre considérable de Carapoides, des Raies de genres

differents de ceux de l’océan, et qui par conséquent ne sont pas des

espèces qui remontent le fleuve. Une foule de Goniodontes et de

Chromides de genres et d’espèces inédits. Mais ce que j’apprécie surtout

c’est la facilité que j’ai d’étudier les changements que tous ces

poissons subissent avec l’âge et les différences de sexe qui existent

entr’eux et qui sont souvent très considérables. C’est ainsi que j’ai

observé une espèce de Geophagus dont le mâle porte sur le front une

bosse très-saillante qui manque entièrement à la femelle et aux jeunes.

Ce même poisson a un mode de reproduction des plus extraordinaires. Les

œufs passent, je ne sais trop comment, dans la bouche dont ils tapissent

le fond, entre les appendices intérieurs des arcs branchiaux et surtout

dans une poche formée par les pharyngiens supérieurs qu’ils remplissent

complètement. Là ils éclosent et les petits, libérés de leur coque, se

développent jusqu’à ce qu’ils soient en état de fournir à leur

existence. Je ne sais pas encore combien de temps cela va durer; mais

j’ai déjà rencontré des exemplaires dont les jeunes n’avaient plus de

sac vitellaire, qui hébergeaient encore leur progéniture. Comme je

passerai environ un mois à Teffé, j’espère pouvoir compléter cette

observation. L’examen de la structure d’un grand nombre de Chromides m’a

fait entrevoir des affinités entre ces poissons et diverses autres

familles dont on ne s’est jamais avisé de les rapprocher. Et d’abord je

me suis convaincu que les Chromides, répartis autrefois parmi les

Labroides et les Sciènoides, constituent bien réellement un groupe

naturel, reconnu à peu près en même temps et d’une manière indépendante

par Heckel et J. Müller. Mais il y a plus; les genres Enoplosus,

Pomotis, Centrarchus et quelques autres genres voisins, rangés parmi les

Percoides par tous les Ichthyologistes, me paraissent, d’ici et sans

moyen de comparaison directe, tellement voisins des Chromides que je ne

vois pas comment on pourra les en séparer, surtout maintenant que je

sais que les pharyngiens inférieurs ne sont pas toujours soudés chez les

Chromides. Et puis l’embryologie et les métamorphoses des Chromides que

je viens d’étudier m’ont convaincu que les “Poissons à branchies

labyrinthiques” séparés de tous les autres poissons par Cuvier comme une

famille entièrement isolée, à raison de la structure étrange de ses

organes respiratoires, se rattachent de très-près aux Chromides. Ce

groupe devient ainsi par ses affinités variées, l’un des plus

intéressants de la classe des poissons, et le bassin de l’Amazone paraît

être la vraie patrie de cette famille. Je ne veux pas vous fatiguer de

mes recherches ichthyologiques; permettez moi seulement d’ajouter que

les poissons ne sont point uniformément répandus dans ce grand bassin.

Déjà j’ai acquis la certitude qu’il faut y distinguer plusieurs faunes

ichthyologiques, très-nettement caractérisées; c’est ainsi que les

espèces qui habitent la rivière du Pará, des bords de la mer jusque vers

l’embouchure du Tocantins, diffèrent de celles que l’on rencontre dans

le réseau d’anastomoses qui unissent la rivière de Pará à l’Amazone

propre. Les espèces de l’Amazone, au-dessous du Xingu, diffèrent de

celles que j’ai rencontrées plus haut; celles du cours inférieur du

Xingu, diffèrent de celles du cours inférieur du Tapajos. Celles des

nombreux igarapés et lacs de Manaos diffèrent également de celles du

cours principal du grand fleuve et de ses principaux affluents. Il reste

maintenant à étudier les changements qui peuvent survenir dans cette

distribution, dans le cours de l’année, suivant la hauteur des eaux et

peut-être aussi suivant l’époque à laquelle les différentes espèces

pondent leurs œufs. Jusqu’à présent je n’ai rencontré qu’un petit nombre

d’espèces qui aient une aire de distribution très étendue. C’est ainsi

que le Sudis gigas se trouve à-peu-près partout. C’est le poisson le

plus important du fleuve; celui qui comme aliment remplace le bétail

pour les populations riveraines. Un autre problème à résoudre c’est de

savoir jusqu’à quel point les grands affluents de l’Amazone répètent ce

phénomène de la distribution locale des poissons. Je vais chercher à le

résoudre en remontant le Rio Negro et le Rio Madeira et comme je

reviendrai à Manaos, je pourrai comparer mes premières observations dans

cette localité, avec celles d’une autre saison de l’année. Adieu, mon

cher ami. Veuillez faire mes amitiés à M. Elie de Beaumont et me

rappeler aux bons souvenirs de ceux de mes collègues de l’Académie qui

veulent bien s’intéresser à mes travaux actuels. Faites aussi, je vous

prie, mes amitiés à M. votre fils.

Tout à vous,

L. AGASSIZ.[69]

Mr. Agassiz has already secured quite a number of the singular type of

Acarà, which carries its young in its mouth, and he has gathered a good

deal of information about its habits. The fishermen here say that this

mode of caring for the young prevails more or less in all the family of

Acarà. They are not all born there, however; some lay their eggs in the

sand, and, hovering over their nest, take up the little ones in their

mouth, when they are hatched. The fishermen also add, that these fish do

not always keep their young in the mouth, but leave them sometimes in

the nest, taking them up only on the approach of danger.[70]

Our household is now established on a permanent basis. We had at first

some difficulty in finding servants; at this fishing season, when the

men are going off to dry and salt fish, and when the season for hunting

turtle-eggs and making turtle-butter is coming on, the town is almost

deserted by the men. It is like haying-time in this country, when every

arm is needed in the fields. Then the habits of the Indians are so

irregular, and they care so little for money, finding, as they do, the

means of living almost without work immediately about them, that even if

one does engage a servant, he is likely to disappear the next day. An

Indian will do more for good-will and a glass of cachaça (rum) than he

will do for wages, which are valueless to him. The individual, who has

been supplying the place of indoors man while we have been looking for a

servant, is so original in his appearance that he deserves a special

description. He belongs to a neighbor who has undertaken to provide our

meals, and he brings them when they are prepared and waits on the table.

He is rather an elderly Indian, and his dress consists of a pair of

cotton drawers, originally white, but now of many hues and usually

rolled up to the knees, his feet being bare; the upper part of his

person is partially (very partially) concealed by a blue rag, which I

suppose in some early period of the world’s history must have been a

shirt; this extraordinary figure is surmounted by an old straw hat full

of holes, bent in every direction, and tied under the chin by a red

string. Had he not been a temporary substitute, we should have tried to

obtain a more respectable livery for him; but to-day he gives place to

an Indian lad, Bruno by name, who presents a more decent appearance,

though he seems rather bewildered by his new office. At present his idea

of waiting on the table seems to be to sit on the floor and look at us

while we eat. However, we hope to break him in gradually. He looks as if

he had not been long redeemed from the woods, for his face is deeply

tattooed with black, and his lips and nose are pierced with holes,

reminding one of the becoming vanities he has renounced in favor of

civilization.[71] Besides Bruno we have a girl, Alexandrina by name,

who, by her appearance, has a mixture of Indian and black blood in her

veins. She promises very well, and seems to have the intelligence of the

Indian with the greater pliability of the negro.

_September 29th._—One of the great charms of our residence here is, that

we have so many pleasant walks within easy reach. My favorite walk in

the early morning is to the wood on the brow of the hill. From the

summit, the sunrise is lovely over the village below, the lake with its

many picturesque points and inlets, and the forests on the opposite

shores. From this spot a little path through the bushes brings one at

once into a thick, beautiful wood. Here one may wander at will, for

there are a great many paths, worn by the Indians, through the trees;

and one is constantly tempted on by the cool, pleasant shade, and by the

perfume of moss and fern and flower. The forest here is full of life and

sound. The buzz of insects, the shrill cry of the cicadas, the

chattering talk of the papagaios, and occasionally busy voices of the

monkeys, make the woods eloquent. The monkeys are, however, very

difficult of approach, and though I hear them often, I have not yet seen

them on the trees; but Mr. Hunnewell told me that the other day, when

shooting in this very wood, he came upon a family of small white monkeys

sitting on a bough together, and talking with much animation. One of the

prettiest of the paths, with which my daily walks made me familiar,

leads over an igarapé to a house, or rather to a large thatched shed, in

the forest, used for preparing mandioca. It is supplied with four large

clay ovens, having immense shallow pans fitted on to the top, with

troughs for kneading, sieves for straining, and all the apparatus for

the various processes to which the mandioca is subjected. One utensil is

very characteristic; the large, empty turtle-shells, which may be seen

in every kitchen, used as basins, bowls, &c. I suppose this little

establishment is used by a number of persons, for in my morning walks I

always meet troops of Indians going to it, the women with their deep

working baskets,—something like the Swiss “hotte,”—in which they carry

their tools, on their backs, supported by a straw band fastened across

the forehead, and their babies astride on their hips, so as to leave

their hands perfectly free. They always give me a cordial morning

greeting and stop to look at the plants and flowers with which I am

usually laden. Some of the women are quite pretty, but as a general

thing the Indians in this part of the country do not look very healthy,

and are apt to have diseases of the eyes and skin. It is a curious thing

that the natives seem more liable to the maladies of the country than

strangers. They are very subject to intermittent fevers, and one often

sees Indians worn to mere skin and bone by this terrible scourge.

If the morning walk in the woods is delightful, the evening stroll on

the beach in front of the house is no less so, when the water is dyed in

the purple sunset, and the quiet of the scene is broken here and there

by a fire on the sands, around which a cluster of Indians are cooking

their supper. As Major Coutinho and I were walking on the shore last

evening we came on such a group. They were a family who had come over

from their home on the other side of the lake, with a boat-load of fish

and turtle to sell in the village. When they have disposed of their

cargo, they build their fire on the beach, eat their supper of salted or

broiled fish, farinha, and the nuts of a particular kind of palm

(Atalea), and then sleep in their canoe. We sat down with them, and,

that they should not think we came merely out of curiosity, we shared

their nuts and farinha, and they were soon very sociable. I am

constantly astonished at the frank geniality of these people, so

different from our sombre, sullen Indians, who are so unwilling to talk

with strangers. The cordiality of their reception, however, depends very

much on the way in which they are accosted. Major Coutinho, who has

passed years among them, understands their character well, and has

remarkable tact in his dealings with them. He speaks their language a

little also, and this is important here where many of the Indians speak

only the “lingua geral.” This was the case with several of the family

whose acquaintance we made last evening, though some of them talked in

Portuguese fluently enough, telling us about their life in the forest,

their success in disposing of their fish and turtle, and inviting us to

come to their house. They pointed out to us one of the younger girls,

who they said had never been baptized, and they seemed to wish to have

the rite performed. Major Coutinho promised to speak to the priest about

it for them. So far as we can learn, the white population do little to

civilize the Indians beyond giving them the external rites of religion.

It is the old sad story of oppression, duplicity, and license on the

part of the white man, which seems likely to last as long as skins shall

differ, and which necessarily ends in the degradation of both races.

_October 4th._—On Saturday morning at four o’clock, Major Coutinho, Mr.

Agassiz, and myself left Teffé in company with our neighbor and landlord

Major Estolano, on our way to his “sitio,” a rough sort of Indian lodge

on the other side of the Solimoens, where he goes occasionally with his

family to superintend the drying and salting of fish, a great article of

commerce here. It had rained heavily all night, but the stars were

bright, and the morning was cool and fresh when we put off in the canoe.

When we issued from Teffé lake it was already broad day, and by the time

we entered the Solimoens we began to have admonitions that

breakfast-time was approaching. There is something very pleasant in

these improvised meals; the coffee tastes better when you have made it

yourself, setting up the coffee-machine under the straw-roof of the

canoe, dipping up the water from the river over the side of the boat,

and cooking your own breakfast. One would think it a great bore at home,

with all the necessary means and appliances; but with the stimulus of

difficulty and the excitement of the journey it is quite pleasant, and

gives a new relish to ordinary fare. After we had had a cup of hot

coffee and a farinha biscuit, being somewhat cramped with sitting in the

canoe, we landed for a walk on a broad beach along which we were

coasting. There is much to be learned on these Amazonian beaches; they

are the haunts and breeding-places of many different kinds of animals,

and are covered by tracks of alligators, turtles, and capivari. Then

there are the nests, not only of alligators and turtles, but of the

different kind of fishes and birds that lay their eggs in the mud or

sand. It is curious to see the address of the Indians in finding the

turtle-nests; they walk quickly over the sand, but with a sort of

inquiring tread, as if they carried an instinctive perception in their

step, and the moment they set their foot upon a spot below which eggs

are deposited, though there is no external evidence to the eye, they

recognize it at once, and, stooping, dig straight down to the eggs,

generally eight or ten inches under the surface. Besides these tracks

and nests, there are the rounded, shallow depressions in the mud, which

the fishermen say are the sleeping-places of the skates. They have

certainly about the form and size of the skate, and one can easily

believe that these singular impressions in the soft surface have been

made in this way. The vegetation on these beaches is not less

interesting than these signs of animal life. In the rainy season more

than half a mile of land, now uncovered along the margins of the river,

is entirely under water, the river rising not only to the edge of the

forest, but penetrating far into it. At this time of the year, however,

the shore consists, first of the beach, then of a broad band of tall

grasses, beyond which are the lower shrubs and trees, leading up, by a

sort of gradation, to the full forest growth. During this dry season the

vegetation makes an effort to recover its lost ground; one sees the

little Imbauba (Cecropia) and a kind of willow-tree (Salix humboldiana),

the only familiar plant we met, springing up on the sand, and creeping

down to the water’s edge, only to be destroyed again with the next rise

of the river. While we were walking, the boatmen were dragging the net,

and though not with such astonishing success as the other day, yet it

landed not only an ample supply of fresh fish for breakfast, but also a

number of interesting specimens. At about eleven o’clock we turned from

the Solimoens into the little river on which Mr. Estolano’s

fishing-lodge is situated, and in a few minutes found ourselves at the

pretty landing, where a rough flight of steps led up to the house. In

this climate a very slight shelter will serve as a house. Such a

dwelling is indeed nothing but a vast porch; and a very airy, pleasant,

and picturesque abode it makes. A palm-thatched roof to shed the rain

and keep off the sun, covering a platform of split logs that one may

have a dry floor under foot; these, with plenty of posts and rafters for

the swinging of hammocks, are the essentials. It was somewhat after this

fashion that Major Estolano’s lodge was built. The back part of it

consisted of one very large, high chamber, to which the family retired

in the hottest part of the day, when the sun was most scorching; all the

rest was roof and platform, the latter stretching out considerably

beyond the former, thus leaving an open floor on one side for the

stretching and drying of fish. The whole structure was lifted on piles

about eight feet above the ground, to provide against the rising of the

river in the rainy season. In front of the house, just on the edge of

the bank, were several large, open, thatched sheds, used as kitchen and

living-rooms for the negroes and Indians employed in the preparation of

the fish. In one of these rooms were several Indian women who looked

very ill. We were told they had been there for two months, and they were

worn to skin and bone with intermittent fever. Major Coutinho said they

were, no doubt, suffering in part from the habit so prevalent among

these people of eating clay and dirt, for which they have a morbid love.

They were wild-looking creatures, lying in their hammocks or squatting

on the ground, often without any clothes, and moaning as if in pain.

They were from the forest, and spoke no Portuguese.

We were received most cordially by the ladies of the family, who had

gone up to the lodge the day before, and were offered the refreshment of

a hammock, the first act of hospitality in this country, when one

arrives from any distance. After this followed an excellent breakfast of

the fresh fish we had brought with us, cooked in a variety of ways,

broiled, fried, and boiled. The repast was none the less appetizing that

it was served in picnic fashion, the cloth being laid on the floor, upon

one of the large palm-mats, much in use here to spread over the

uncarpeted brick floors or under the hammocks. For several hours after

breakfast the heat was intense, and we could do little but rest in the

shade, though Mr. Agassiz, who works at all hours if specimens are on

hand, was busy in making skeletons of some fish too large to be

preserved in alcohol. Towards evening it grew cooler, and we walked in

the banana plantation near the house, and sat under an immense

gourd-tree on the bank, which made a deep shade; for it was clothed not

only by its own foliage, but the branches were covered with parasites,

and with soft, dark moss, in contrast with which the lighter green,

glossy fruit seemed to gain new lustre. I call it a gourd-tree, simply

from the use to which the fruit is put. But it goes here by the name of

the Cuieira-tree (Crescentia Cajeput), the cup made from the fruit being

called a Cuia. The fruit is spherical, of a light green, shiny surface,

and grows from the size of an apple to that of the largest melon. It is

filled with a soft, white pulp, easily removed when the fruit is cut in

halves; the rind is then allowed to dry. Very pretty cups and basins, of

many sizes, are made in this way; and the Indians, who understand how to

prepare a variety of very brilliant colors, are very skilful in painting

them. It would seem that the art of making colors is of ancient date

among the Amazonian Indians, for in the account of Francisco Orellana’s

journey down the Amazons in 1541, “the two fathers of the expedition

declare that in this voyage they found all the people to be both

intelligent and ingenious, which was shown by the works which they

performed in sculpture and painting in bright colors.”[72] Their paints

are prepared from a particular kind of clay and from the juices of

several plants which have coloring properties. In an Amazonian cottage

one hardly sees any utensils for the table except such as the Indians

have prepared and ornamented themselves from the fruits of the

Cuieira-tree. I longed to extend my walk into the woods which surrounded

us on all sides; but the forest is very tantalizing here, so tempting

and so impenetrable. The ladies told me there were no paths cut in the

neighborhood of the house.

The next morning we were off early in the canoes on a fish hunt; I call

it a hunt advisedly, for the fish are the captives of the bow and spear,

not of the net and line. The Indians are very adroit in shooting the

larger fish with the bow and arrow, and in harpooning some of the

veritable monsters of their rivers, such as the Peixe-boi (“fish-cow”),

Manatee or Dugon, with the spear. We made two parties this morning, some

of us going in the larger canoe to drag a forest lake with the net,

while some of the fishermen took a smaller, lighter boat, to be able to

approach their larger prey. Our path lay through a pretty igarapé,

where, for the first time, I saw monkeys in a tree by the water-side. On

coming to the Amazons we expect to see monkeys as frequently as

squirrels are seen at home; but, though very numerous, they are so shy

that one rarely gets a fair view of them. After an hour’s row we landed

at a little point jutting out into the water, and went through the

forest, the men cutting the way before us, clearing the path of

branches, fallen trees, and parasitic vines which obstructed it. I was

astonished to see the vigor and strength with which Dona Maria, the

mother-in-law of our host, made her way through the tangled trees,

helping to free the road, and lopping off branches with her great

wood-knife. We imagine all the ladies in this warm country to be very

indolent and languid; and in the cities, as a general thing, their

habits are much less vigorous than those of our women. But here, in the

Upper Amazons, the women who have been brought up in the country and in

the midst of the Indians are often very energetic, bearing a hand at the

oar or the fishing-net with the strength of a man. A short walk brought

us out upon a shallow forest lake, or, as the Indians call it, “round

water.” The Indian names are often very significant. I have mentioned

the meaning of igarapé, “boat path”; to this, when they wish to indicate

its size more exactly, they affix either the word “assù” (large) or

“mirim” (small). But an igarapé, whether large or small, is always a

channel opening out of the main river and having no other outlet. For a

channel connecting the upper and lower waters of the same river, or

leading from one river to another, they have another word, “Paraná”

(signifying river), which they modify in the same way, as Paraná-assú or

Paraná-mirim. Paraná-assú, the big river, means also the sea. A still

more significant name for a channel connecting two rivers is the

Portuguese word “fúro,” meaning bore.

The lake was set in the midst of long, reed-like grass, and, as we

approached it, thousands of white water-birds rustled up from the margin

and floated like a cloud above us. The reason of their numbers was plain

when we reached the lake: it was actually lined with shrimps; one could

dip them out by the bucketful. The boatmen now began to drag the net,

and perhaps nowhere, from any single lake or pond, has Mr. Agassiz made

a more valuable collection of forest fishes. Among them was a pipe-fish,

one of the Goniodont family, very similar to our ordinary Syngnathus in

appearance, but closely related to Acestra, and especially interesting

to him as throwing light on certain investigations of his, made when

quite a young man. This specimen confirmed a classification by which he

then associated the pipe-fish with the Garpikes and Sturgeons, a

combination which was scouted by the best naturalists of the time, and

is even now repudiated by most of them. Without self-glorification, it

is impossible not to be gratified when the experience of later years

confirms the premonitions of youth, and shows them to have been not mere

guesses, but founded upon an insight into the true relations of things.

Wearied after a while with watching the fishing in the sun, I went back

into the forest, where I found the coffee-pot already boiling over the

fire. It was pleasant to sit down on a fallen, moss-grown trunk, and

breakfast in the shade. Presently the fishermen came back from the lake,

and we found our way to the boats again, laden with an immense number of

fishes. The gentlemen returned to the house in one of the smaller

montarias, taking the specimens with them, and leaving me to return in

the larger canoe with the Senhoras. It seemed to me strange on this

Sunday morning, when the bells must be ringing and the people trooping

to church under the bright October sky, in our far-off New England home,

to be floating down this quiet igarapé, in a boat full of half-naked

Indians, their wild, monotonous chant sounding in our ears as they kept

time to their oars. In these excursions one learns to understand the

fascination this life must have for a people among whom civilization is

as yet but very incomplete; it is full of physical enjoyment, without

any mental effort. Up early in the morning and off on their fishing or

hunting excursions long before dawn, they return by the middle of the

day, lie in their hammocks and smoke during the hours of greatest heat;

cook the fish they have brought with them, and, unless sickness comes to

them, know neither want nor care. We reached the house in time for a

twelve o’clock breakfast of a more solid character than the lighter one

in the forest, and by no means unacceptable after our long row. In the

course of the day two “Peixe-bois” (Manatees) were brought in, also a

Boto (porpoise), and some large specimens of Pirarucu (Sudis). All these

are too clumsy to preserve in alcohol, especially when alcohol is so

difficult to obtain and so expensive as it is here; but Mr. Agassiz has

had skeletons made of them, and will preserve the skins of the

Peixe-bois for mounting. He obtained at the same time an entirely new

genus of the Siluroid family. It is a fish weighing some ten pounds,

called here the Pacamum, and of a bright canary color.