The evening scene at the “Sitio” was always very pretty. After dinner,

when the customary “boa noite,” the universal greeting at the close of

the day, had been exchanged, the palm-mats, spread over the platforms,

had each their separate group, Indians or negroes, children, members of

the family or guests, the central figure being usually that of Major

Coutinho, who was considered to be especially successful in the making

of coffee and who generally had a mat to himself, where he looked, as

the blue flame of his alcohol lamp flickered in the wind, not unlike a

magician of old, brewing some potent spell. Little shallow cups, like

open antique lamps, filled with oil and having a bit of wick hanging

over the edge, were placed about the floors, and served to light the

interior of the porch, though after a glimmering and uncertain fashion.

On Monday morning we left the “Sitio” and returned to Teffé, where Mr.

Agassiz had the pleasure of receiving all his collections, both those he

had sent on before him and those which accompanied us, in good

condition.

_October 9th._—Alexandrina turns out to be a valuable addition to the

household, not only from a domestic, but also from a scientific point of

view. She has learned to prepare and clean skeletons of fish very

nicely, and makes herself quite useful in the laboratory. Besides, she

knows many paths in the forest, and accompanies me in all my botanizing

excursions; with the keen perceptions of a person whose only training

has been through the senses, she is far quicker than I am in discerning

the smallest plant in fruit or flower, and now that she knows what I am

seeking, she is a very efficient aid. Nimble as a monkey, she thinks

nothing of climbing to the top of a tree to bring down a blossoming

branch; and here, where many of the trees shoot up to quite a height

before putting out their boughs, such an auxiliary is very important.

The collections go on apace, and every day brings in new species; more

than can be easily cared for,—far more than our artist can find time to

draw. Yesterday, among other specimens, a hollow log was brought in,

some two feet and a half in length, and about three inches in diameter,

crowded with Anojas (a common fish here) of all sizes, from those

several inches long to the tiniest young. The thing was so extraordinary

that one would have been inclined to think it was prepared in order to

be passed off as a curiosity, had not the fish been so dexterously

packed into the log from end to end, that it was impossible to get them

out without splitting it open, when they were all found alive and in

perfectly good condition. They could not have been artificially jammed

into the hollow wood, in that way, without injuring them. The fishermen

say that this is the habit of the family; they are often found thus

crowded into dead logs at the bottom of the river, making their nests as

it were in the cavities of the wood.[73]

_October 14th._—Mr. Agassiz has a corps of little boys engaged in

catching the tiniest fishes, so insignificant in size that the regular

fishermen, who can never be made to understand that a fish which is not

good to eat can serve any useful purpose, always throw them away.

Nevertheless, these are among the most instructive specimens for the

ichthyologist, because they often reveal the relations not only between

parent and offspring, but wider relations between different groups. Mr.

Agassiz’s investigations on these little fish here have shown repeatedly

that the young of some species resemble closely the adult of others.

Such a fish, not more than half an inch long, was brought to him

yesterday. It constitutes a new genus, Lymnobelus, and belongs to the

bill-fish family, Scomberesoces, with Belone and others,—that long,

narrow type, with a long beak, which has such a wide distribution over

the world. In the Northern United States, as well as in the

Mediterranean, it has a representative of the genus Scomberesox, in

which the jaws of its long snout are gaping; in the Mediterranean, and

almost everywhere in the temperate and torrid zones, Belones are found

in which, on the contrary, the bill is closed; in Florida and on the

Brazilian coast, as well as in the Pacific, species of Hemirhamphus

occur in which the two jaws are unequal, the upper one being very short

and the lower one enormously long, while the Amazonian bill-fish has a

somewhat different cut of the bill from either of those mentioned above,

though both jaws are very long, as in Belone. When, then, the young of

this Amazonian species was brought to Mr. Agassiz, he naturally expected

to find it like its parent. On the contrary, he found it far more like

the species of Florida and the Brazilian coast, having the two jaws

unequal, the upper one excessively short, the lower enormously long,

showing that the Amazonian species, before taking on its own

characteristic features, passes through a stage resembling the permanent

adult condition of the Hemirhamphus. It is interesting to find that

animals, which have their natural homes so far from each other that

there is no possibility of any material connection between them, are yet

so linked together by structural laws, that the development of one

species should recall the adult form of another.[74] The story of the

Acaras, the fish which carries its young in its mouth, grows daily more

wonderful. This morning Mr. Agassiz was off before dawn, on a fishing

excursion with Major Estolano, and returned with numerous specimens of a

new species of that family. These specimens furnished a complete

embryological series, some of them having their eggs at the back of the

gills, between the upper pharyngeals and the branchial arches, others

their young in the mouth in different stages of development, up to those

a quarter of an inch long and able to swim about, full of life and

activity, when removed from the gills and placed in water. The most

advanced were always found outside of the gills, within the cavity

formed by the gill-covers and the wide branchiostegal membrane. In

examining these fishes Mr. Agassiz has found that a special lobe of the

brain, similar to those of the Triglas, sends large nerves to that part

of the gills which protects the young; thus connecting the care of the

offspring with the organ of intelligence. The specimens of this morning

seem to invalidate the statement of the fishermen, that the young,

though often found in the mouth of the parent, are not actually

developed there, but laid and hatched in the sand. The series, in these

specimens, was too complete to leave any doubt that in this species at

least the whole process of development is begun and completed in the

gill-cavity.

_October 17th._—Teffé. Yesterday, to our great pleasure, our companions,

Mr. James and Mr. Talisman, returned from their canoe expedition on the

rivers Iça and Hyutahy, bringing most valuable collections. Mr. Agassiz

has felt some anxiety about their success, as, in consequence of their

small supply of alcohol, for preserving specimens, which was,

nevertheless, all he could spare from the common store, a great deal of

judgment in the choice of specimens was required in order to make a

truly characteristic collection. The commission could not have been

better executed, and the result raises the number of species from the

Amazonian waters to more than six hundred, every day showing more

clearly how distinctly the species are localized, and that this immense

basin is divided into numerous zoölogical areas, each one of which has

its own combination of fishes. Our stay at Teffé draws to a close, and

to-day begins the great work of packing, in preparation for the arrival

of the steamer at the end of the week. These days are the most laborious

of all; on leaving every station, all the alcoholic specimens have to be

overhauled, their condition ascertained, the barrels, kegs, and cans

examined, to make sure that the hoops are fast, and that there are no

leakages. Fortunately, there are some of our party who are very

dexterous as coopers and joiners, and at these times the laboratory is

turned into a workshop. We were reminded of the labors of the day by a

circular distributed at breakfast this morning:—

“SIR:—The ‘United Coopers’ Association’ will meet in the laboratory

after breakfast. You are particularly requested to attend.

“TEFFÉ, Oct. 17th, 1865.”

And at this moment the laboratory rings with click of hammer, and nails,

and iron hoops. As usual, there are a number of uninvited spectators

watching the breaking up of the scientific establishment, which has

been, during the past month, a source of constant entertainment to the

vagrant population of Teffé. In this country of open doors and windows

one has not the same protection against intrusion as in a colder

climate, and we have had a constant succession of curious visitors

hanging about our premises.

I have dwelt especially on the fish collection; but we do not go away

empty-handed in other respects. Mr. Dexter has prepared a large number

of the forest birds for mounting,—papagaios, toucans, and a great

variety of smaller species of very brilliant plumage, not to speak of

the less showy water-birds. He has been often in the woods shooting,

with Mr. Hunnewell and Mr. Thayer, and has employed several sportsmen of

the place to assist him. Turtles, jacarés, and snakes are also largely

represented in the collections; and Mr. Agassiz has obtained, by

purchase, a large and well-preserved collection of insects, made by a

Frenchman during a several years’ residence in this little town. In

Teffé and its neighborhood we constantly tread in the footsteps of the

English naturalist, Mr. Bates, “Senhor Henrique,” as the people call him

here, whose charming book, “The Naturalist on the Amazons,” has been a

very pleasant companion to us in our wanderings.[75]

[Illustration: Head of Alexandrina.]

_October 21st._—Since Thursday afternoon our canoe has been loaded, all

the specimens, amounting to something more than thirty barrels, kegs,

and boxes, packed and waiting the arrival of the steamer. We have paid

our parting visits to friends and acquaintances here. I have taken my

last ramble in the woods where I have had so many pleasant walks, and

now we are sitting in the midst of valises and carpet-bags, waiting to

see the steamer round the wooded point in front of the house, before we

turn the key on our four weeks’ home, and close this chapter of our

Amazonian life. In this country, where time seems to be of comparatively

little importance, one is never sure whether the boat will leave or

arrive on the appointed day. One has only to make the necessary

preparations, and then practise the favorite Brazilian virtue,

“paciencia.” The adjoining sketch is a portrait of my little house-maid,

Alexandrina, who, from her mixture of Negro and Indian blood, is rather

a curious illustration of the amalgamation of races here. She consented

yesterday, after a good deal of coy demur, to have her portrait taken.

Mr. Agassiz wanted it especially on account of her extraordinary hair,

which, though it has lost its compact negro crinkle, and acquired

something of the length and texture of the Indian hair, retains,

nevertheless, a sort of wiry elasticity, so that, when combed out, it

stands off from her head in all directions as if electrified. In the

examples of negro and Indian half-breeds we have seen, the negro type

seems the first to yield, as if the more facile disposition of the

negro, as compared with the enduring tenacity of the Indian, showed

itself in their physical as well as their mental characteristics. A few

remarks, gathered from Mr. Agassiz’s notes on the general character of

the population in this region may not be without interest.

“Two things are strongly impressed on the mind of the traveller in the

Upper Amazons. The necessity, in the first place, of a larger

population, and, secondly, of a better class of whites, before any fair

beginning can be made in developing the resources of the country; and,

as an inducement to this, the importance of taking off all restraint on

the navigation of the Amazons and its tributaries, opening them to the

ambition and competition of other nations. Not only is the white

population too small for the task before it, but it is no less poor in

quality than meagre in numbers. It presents the singular spectacle of a

higher race receiving the impress of a lower one, of an educated class

adopting the habits and sinking to the level of the savage. In the towns

of the Solimoens the people who pass for the white gentry of the land,

while they profit by the ignorance of the Indian to cheat and abuse him,

nevertheless adopt his social habits, sit on the ground and eat with

their fingers as he does. Although it is forbidden by law to enslave the

Indian, there is a practical slavery by which he becomes as absolutely

in the power of the master as if he could be bought and sold. The white

man engages an Indian to work for him at a certain rate, at the same

time promising to provide him with clothes and food until such time as

he shall have earned enough to take care of himself. This outfit, in

fact, costs the employer little; but when the Indian comes to receive

his wages he is told that he is already in debt to his master for what

has been advanced to him; instead of having a right to demand money, he

owes work. The Indians, even those who live about the towns, are

singularly ignorant of the true value of things. They allow themselves

to be deceived in this way to an extraordinary extent, and remain bound

to the service of a man for a lifetime, believing themselves under the

burden of a debt, while they are, in fact, creditors. Besides this

virtual slavery, an actual traffic of the Indians does go on: but it is

so far removed from the power of the authorities that they cannot, if

they would, put a stop to it. A better class of emigrants would suppress

many of these evils. Americans or Englishmen might be sordid in their

transactions with the natives; their hands are certainly not clean in

their dealings with the dark-skinned races; but they would not degrade

themselves to the social level of the Indians as the Portuguese do; they

would not adopt his habits.”

I cannot say good by to Teffé without a word in commemoration of one

class of its inhabitants who have interfered very seriously with our

comfort. There is a tiny creature called the Mocuim, scarcely visible

except for its bright vermilion color, which swarms all over the grass

and low growth here. It penetrates under the skin so that one would

suppose a red rash had broken out over the body, and causes excessive

itching, ending sometimes in troublesome sores. On returning from a walk

it is necessary to bathe in alcohol and water, in order to allay the

heat and irritation produced by these little wretches. Mosquitoes are

annoying, piums are vexatious, but for concentrated misery commend me to

the Mocuim.

_October 23d._—We left Teffé on Saturday evening on board the Icamiaba,

which now seems quite like a home to us; we have passed so many pleasant

hours in her comfortable quarters since we left Pará. We are just on the

verge of the rainy season here, and almost every evening during the past

week has brought a thunder-storm. The evening before leaving Teffé we

had one of the most beautiful storms we have seen on the Amazons. It

came sweeping up from the east; these squalls always come from the east,

and therefore the Indians say “the path of the sun is the path of the

storm.” The upper, lighter layer of cloud, travelling faster than the

dark, lurid mass below, hung over it with its white, fleecy edge, like

an avalanche of snow just about to fall. We were all sitting at the

doorstep watching its swift approach, and Mr. Agassiz said that this

tropical storm was the most accurate representation of an avalanche on

the upper Alps he had ever seen. It seems sometimes as if Nature played

upon herself, reproducing the same appearances under the most dissimilar

circumstances. It is curious to mark the change in the river. When we

reached Teffé it was rapidly falling at the rate of about a foot a day.

It was easy to measure its retreat by the effect of the occasional rains

on the beach. The shower of one day, for instance, would gully the sand

to the water’s edge, and the next day we would find the water about a

foot below the terminus of all the cracks and ruts thus caused, their

abrupt close showing the line at which they met the water the previous

day. Ten days or a fortnight before we left, and during which we had

heavy rains at the close of every day, continuing frequently through the

night, those oscillations in the river began, which the people here call

“repiquete,” and which, on the Upper Amazons, precede the regular rise

of the water during the winter. The first repiquete occurs in Teffé

toward the end of October, accompanied by almost daily rains. After a

week or so the water falls again; in ten or twelve days it begins once

more to ascend, and sinks again after the same period. In some seasons

there is a third rise and fall, but usually the third repiquete begins

the permanent annual rise of the river. On board the steamer we were

joined by Mr. Bourget, with his fine collections from Tabatinga. He,

like both the other parties, has been hindered, by want of alcohol, from

making as large collections as he might otherwise have done; but they

are, nevertheless, very valuable, exceedingly well put up, and embracing

a great variety of species, from the Marañon as well as from the

Hyavary. Thus we have a rich harvest from all the principal tributaries

of the Upper Amazons, within the borders of Brazil, above the Rio Negro,

except the Purus, which must be left unexplored for want of time and a

sufficient working force.

On leaving Teffé I should say something of the nature of the soil in

connection with Mr. Agassiz’s previous observations on this subject.

Although he has been almost constantly occupied with his collections, he

has, nevertheless, found time to examine the geological formations of

the neighborhood. The more he considers the Amazons and its tributaries,

the more does he feel convinced that the whole mass of the reddish,

homogeneous clay, which he has called drift, is the glacial deposit

brought down from the Andes and worked over by the melting of the ice

which transported it. According to his view, the whole valley was

originally filled with this deposit, and the Amazons itself, as well as

the rivers connected with it, are so many channels worn through the

mass, having cut their way just as the igarapé now wears its way through

the more modern deposits of mud and sand. It may seem strange that any

one should compare the formation of these insignificant forest-streams

with that of the vast river which pours itself across a whole continent;

but it is, after all, only a reversal of the microscopic process of

investigation. We magnify the microscopically small in order to see it,

and we must diminish that which transcends our apprehension by its great

size, in order to understand it. The naturalist who wishes to compare an

elephant with a Coni (Hyrax),[76] turns the diminishing end of his glass

upon the former, and, reducing its clumsy proportions, he finds that the

difference is one of size rather than structure. The essential features

are the same. So the little igarapé, as it wears its channel through the

forest to-day, explains the early history of the great river and feebly

reiterates the past.

-----

Footnote 68:

It is a curious fact, that though a large number of cows were owned in

Teffé, and were constantly seen feeding about the houses, milk was

among the unattainable luxuries. Indeed, milk is little used in

Brazil, so far as our observation goes. It is thought unhealthy for

children, and people will rather give coffee or tea to a two-year-old

baby than pure milk. The cows are never milked regularly, but the

quantity needed for the moment is drawn at any time.

Footnote 69:

TEFFÉ, September 22, 1865.

MY DEAR FRIEND AND HONORED COLLEAGUE:—Here I have been for two months

in the basin of the Amazons, and it is here that I have heard with

sorrow of the death of my old friend Valenciennes. I am the more

affected by it, because no one would have appreciated more than he the

results of my journey, which I had hoped soon to share with him. You

will naturally understand that it is to the class of fishes I

consecrate the better part of my time, and my harvest exceeds all my

anticipations. You will judge of it by a few statements.

On reaching Manaos, at the junction of the Rio Negro and the Amazons,

I had already collected more than three hundred species of fishes,

half of which have been painted from life, that is, from the fish

swimming in a large glass tank before my artist. I am often pained to

see how carelessly colored plates of these animals have been

published. Not only have we tripled the number of species, but I count

new genera by dozens, and I have five or six new families for the

Amazons, and one allied to the Gobioides entirely new to Ichthyology.

Among the small species especially I have found novelties. I have

Characines of five or six centimetres and less, adorned with the most

beautiful tints, Cyprinodonts resembling a little those of Cuba and

the United States, Scomberesoces allied to the Belone of the

Mediterranean, a considerable number of Carapoides, and Rays of

different genera from those of the ocean, and therefore not species

which ascend the river; and a crowd of Goniodonts and Chromides of

unpublished genera and species. But what I appreciate most highly is

the facility I have for studying the changes which all these fishes

undergo with age and the differences of sex among them; which are

often very considerable. Thus I have observed a species of Geophagus

in which the male has a very conspicuous protuberance on the forehead,

wholly wanting in the female and the young. This same fish has a most

extraordinary mode of reproduction. The eggs pass, I know not how,

into the mouth, the bottom of which is lined by them, between the

inner appendages of the branchial arches, and especially into a pouch,

formed by the upper pharyngials, which they completely fill. There

they are hatched, and the little ones, freed from the egg-case, are

developed until they are in a condition to provide for their own

existence. I do not yet know how long this continues; but I have

already met with specimens whose young had no longer any vitelline

sac, but were still harbored by the progenitor. As I shall still pass

a month at Teffé I hope to be able to complete this observation. The

examination of the structure of a great number of Chromides has led me

to perceive the affinities between these fishes and several other

families with which we have never thought of associating them. In the

first place, I have convinced myself that the Chromides, formerly

scattered among the Labroides and the Sciænoids, really constitute a

natural group recognized nearly at the same time and in an independent

manner by Heckel and J. Müller. But, beside these, there are the

genera Enoplosus, Pomotis, Centrarchus, and some other neighboring

genera, classed among the Percoids by all Ichthyologists, which seem

to me, from this distance and without means of direct comparison, so

near the Chromides that I do not see how they can be separated,

especially now that I know the lower pharyngials not to be invariably

soldered in the Chromides. And then the embryology and metamorphoses

of the Chromides, which I have just been studying, have convinced me

that the fishes with labyrinthic branchiæ, separated from all other

fishes by Cuvier, as a family entirely isolated on account of the

strange structure of its respiratory organs, are closely related to

the Chromides. Thus this group becomes, by its various affinities, one

of the most interesting of the class of fishes, and the basin of the

Amazons seems to be the true home of this family. I will not fatigue

you with my ichthyological researches; let me only add, that the

fishes are not uniformly spread over this great basin. I have already

acquired the certainty that we must distinguish several ichthyological

faunæ very clearly characterized. Thus the species inhabiting the

river of Pará, from the borders of the sea to the mouth of the

Tocantins, differ from those which are met in the network of

anastomoses uniting the river of Pará with the Amazons proper. The

species of the Amazons below the Xingu differ from those which occur

higher up; those of the lower course of the Xingu differ from those of

the lower course of the Tapajoz. Those of the numerous igarapés and

lakes of Manaos differ as much from those of the principal course of

the great river and of its great affluents. It remains now to study

the changes which may take place in this distribution in the course of

the year, according to the height of the waters, and perhaps also

according to the epoch at which the different species lay their eggs.

Thus far I have met but a small number of species having a very

extensive area of distribution. One of those is the Sudis gigas, found

almost everywhere. It is the most important fish of the river, that

which, as food, corresponds to cattle for the population along the

banks. Another problem to be solved is, how far this phenomenon of the

local distribution of fishes is repeated in the great affluents of the

Amazons. I shall try to solve it in ascending the Rio Negro and Rio

Madeira, and as I return to Manaos I shall be able to compare my first

observations in this locality with those of another season of the

year. Adieu, my dear friend. Remember me to M. Elie de Beaumont and to

those of my colleagues of the Academy who are interested in my present

studies. My kind remembrance also to your son.

Always yours,

L. AGASSIZ.

Footnote 70:

We found that this information was incorrect, at least for some

species, as will be seen hereafter. I let the statement stand in the

text, however, as an instance of the difficulty one has in getting

correct facts, and the danger of trusting to the observations even of

people who mean to tell the real truth. No doubt some of these Acaras

do occasionally deposit their young in the sand, and continue a

certain care of them till they are able to shift for themselves. But

the story of the fisherman was one of those half truths as likely to

mislead, as if it had been wholly false. I will add here a few details

concerning these Acaras, a name applied by the natives to all the

oval-shaped Chromides. The species which lay their eggs in the sand

belong to the genera Hydrogonus and Chætobranchus. Like the North

American Pomotis, they build a kind of flat nest in the sand or mud,

in which they deposit their eggs, hovering over them until the young

are hatched. The species which carry their young in the mouth belong

to several genera, formerly all included under the name of Geophagus

by Heckel. I could not ascertain how the eggs are brought into the

mouth, but the change must take place soon after they are laid, for I

have found in that position eggs in which the embryo had just begun

its development as well as those in a more advanced stage of growth.

Occasionally, instead of eggs, I have found the cavity of the gills,

as also the space enclosed by the branchiostegal membrane, filled with

a brood of young already hatched. The eggs before hatching are always

found in the same part of the mouth, namely, in the upper part of the

branchial arches, protected or held together by a special lobe or

valve formed of the upper pharyngeals. The cavity thus occupied by the

eggs corresponds exactly to the labyrinth of that curious family of

fishes inhabiting the East Indian Ocean, called Labyrinthici by

Cuvier. This circumstance induces me to believe that the branchial

labyrinth of the eastern fishes may be a breeding pouch, like that of

our Chromides, and not simply a respiratory apparatus for retaining

water. In the Amazonian fish a very sensitive network of nerves

spreads over this marsupial pouch, the principal stem of which arises

from a special nervous ganglion, back of the cerebellum, in the

medulla oblongata. This region of the central nervous system is

strangely developed in different families of fishes, and sends out

nerves performing very varied functions. From it arise, normally, the

nerves of movement and sensation about the face; it also provides the

organs of breathing, the upper part of the alimentary canal, the

throat and the stomach. In the electric fishes the great nerves

entering the electric battery arise from the same cerebral region, and

now I have found that the pouch in which the egg of the Acara is

incubated and its young nursed for a time, receives its nerves from

the same source. This series of facts is truly wonderful, and only

shows how far our science still is from an apprehension of the

functions of the nervous system.—L. A.

Footnote 71:

It is a very general habit among the South American Indians to pierce

the nose, ears, and lips with holes, in which they hang pieces of wood

and feathers, as ornaments.

Footnote 72:

See “Expeditions into the Valley of the Amazons,” published by the

Hakluyt Society.

Footnote 73:

This species belongs to one of the subdivisions of the genus

Auchenipterus; it is undescribed, and Mr. Burkhardt has made five

colored sketches of a number of specimens of different sizes, varying

in their markings.—L. A.

Footnote 74:

When I attempted to record my impression of the basin of the Amazons,

and characterized it as a fresh-water ocean with an archipelago of

islands, I did not mean to limit the comparison to the wide expanse of

water and the large number of islands. The resemblance extends much

further, and the whole basin may be said to be oceanic also, in the

character of its fauna. It is true, we are accustomed to consider the

Chromides, the Characines, the Siluroids, and the Goniodonts, which

constitute the chief population of this network of rivers, as

fresh-water fishes; but in so doing we shut our eyes to their natural

affinities, and remember only the medium in which they live. Let any

one enter upon a more searching comparison, and he will not fail to

perceive that, under the name of Chromides, fishes are united which in

their form and general appearance recall several families of the

class, only known as inhabitants of the sea. The genus Pterophyllum,

for instance, might be placed side by side with the Chætodonts,

without apparently violating its natural affinities, since even Cuvier

considered it as a Platax. The genera Symphysodon and Uaru would not

seem very much out of place, by the side of Brama. The genus Geophagus

and allied forms recall at once the Sparoids, with which some of them

were associated by earlier ichthyologists; while the genus Crenicichla

forms a striking counterpart to the genus Malacanthus. Finally, the

genus Acara and their kindred closely resemble the Pomacentroids.

Indeed, had not the fresh-water genera Pomotis, Centrarchus, and the

like, been erroneously associated with the Percoids, the intimate

relations which bind them to the Chromides, and these again to the

marine types mentioned above, would long ago have been acknowledged.

The genus Monocirrus is a miniature Toxotes, with a barbel.

Polycentrus, which is also found in the Amazons, stands nearest to

Acara and Heros; it has only a larger number of anal spines. In this

connection it ought not to be overlooked that these fishes are not

pelagic, like the Scomberoids, but rather archipelagic, if I may use

this word to designate fishes dwelling among low islands. If we

discard the long-prevailing idea of a close relationship between the

Characines and Salmonides, based solely upon the presence of an

adipose fin, we may at once perceive how manifold are the affinities

between the Characines on one hand, and on the other the Scopelines

and Clupeoids, all of which are essentially marine. These relations

may be traced to the details of the genera; Gasteropelecus, from the

family of Characines, is the pendant of Pristigaster among the

Clupeoids, as Chalcinus recalls Pellona. In the same way may Stomias

and Chauliodus be compared to Cynodon and the like; or Sudis and

Osteoglossum to Megalops, and Erythrinus to Ophicephalus, &c., &c. The

Goniodonts may at first sight hardly seem to have any kindred among

marine fishes; but if we take into account the affinity which

unquestionably links the genus Loricaria and its allies with Pegasus,

and further remember that to this day all the ichthyologists, with the

sole exception of C. Duméril, have united Pegasus in one order with

the Pipe-fishes, it will no longer be doubted that the Goniodonts have

at least a remarkable analogy with the Lophobranches, if they should

not be considered as bearing a close structural relation to them. But

this relation truly exists. The extraordinary mode of rearing their

young, which characterizes the various representatives of the old

genus Syngnathus, is only matched by the equally curious incubation of

the eggs in Loricaria. And as to the other families represented in the

basin of the Amazons, such as the Skates, the Sharks, the Tetraodonts,

the Flat-fishes (Pleuronectides), the Bill-fishes (Scomberesoces), the

Anchovis, Herrings, and other forms of the family of Clupeoids, the

Murænoids, the genuine Sciænoids, the Gobioids, &c., &c., they are

chiefly known as marine types; while the Cyprinodonts occur elsewhere

both in salt and fresh water. The Gymnotines are thus far only known

as fresh-water fishes, nor do I see any ground for comparing them to

any marine type. They cannot be compared to the Murænoids, with which

they have thus far been associated. The only real affinity I can trace

in them is with the Mormyri of the Nile and Senegal, and with the

Notopteri of the Sunda Islands. Eel-shaped fishes are by no means all

related to one another, and their elongated form, with a variety of

patterns, is no indication of their relationship. It may,

nevertheless, be inferred from what precedes, that the fishes of the

Amazons have, as a whole, a marine character peculiarly their own, and

not at all to be met with among the inhabitants of the other great

rivers of the world.

These peculiarities extend to other classes besides fishes. Among the

Bivalve shells, it has long been known that the Amazons nourishes

genera of Naiades peculiar to its waters, or only found besides in the

other great rivers of South America; such as Hyria, Castalia, and

Mycetopus, to which I would add another genus, founded upon slender,

sickle-shaped Unios, common to North and South America. But what seems

to have escaped the attention of conchologists is the striking

resemblance of Hyria and Avicula, of Castalia and Arca, of Mycetopus

and Solen, &c. Thus exhibiting another repetition of marine types in a

family exclusively limited to fresh waters, and having structural

characters of its own, entirely distinct from the marine genera, the

appearance of which they so closely ape. In this connection I cannot

suppress the remark, that it would be puerile to consider such mimicry

as indicative of a community of origin. Some of the land shells even

recall marine forms; such are some of the Bulimus tribe, which

resemble the genus Phasianella and Littorina far more than their own

relatives. The similarity of the fringes of the anterior margin of the

foot is particularly striking. The Ampullariæ remind one also, in a

measure, of the marine genera Struthiolaria, Natica, &c., and many

fossils of the latter family have been confounded with fresh-water

Ampullariæ.

The most noticeable feature of the Amazonian fauna, considered with

reference to its oceanic character, is, however, the abundance of

Cetaceans through its whole extent. Wherever I have navigated these

waters, from Pará, where the tides still send the salt brine up the

river, to Tabatinga on the borders of Peru, in all the larger and

smaller tributaries of the great stream as well as in the many lakes

connected with their ever-changing course, I have seen and heard them,

gamboling at the surface and snoring rhythmically, when undisturbed in

their breathing. At night, especially, when quietly at anchor in the

river, you hardly ever fail to be startled by the noise they make,

when reaching the surface to exhale forcibly the air they have long

retained in their lungs while under water. I have noticed five

different species of this order of animals in the waters of the

Amazons, four of which belong to the family of Porpoises and one to

that of Manatees. Mr. Burkhardt has drawn three of them from fresh

specimens for me, and I hope before long to secure equally faithful

representations of the others, when I shall describe them all

comparatively. One of the Porpoises belongs to the genus Inia, and may

be traced on the upper tributaries of the Amazons to Bolivia, another

resembles more our common Porpoise, while still another recalls the

Dolphin of the sea-coast; but I have been unable to ascertain whether

any one of them is identical with the marine species. At all events,

the black Porpoise of the bay of Marajo, frequently seen in the

vicinity of Pará, is totally different from the gray species seen

higher up the stream.—L. A.

Footnote 75:

As from the beginning our arrangements were made to stay at least a

month in Teffé, it became possible to lay out our work in a more

systematic form than during our rambling travels. It was here that I

secured the largest number of fish skeletons and had several of the

larger animals of the country prepared for the Museum; such as

Manatees, Porpoises, Pirarucus, Sorubims, and the like. I also

undertook here, for the first time, a regular search for the young of

all the species of fishes that could be obtained. Here again my

neighbors, and indeed all the inhabitants of the place, vied with one

another in their efforts to procure specimens for me. Senhor Joaō da

Cunha and Dr. Romualdo made frequent fishing excursions for my

benefit; and when I could not accompany them, a boatful of fish was

nevertheless moored to the shore, in the evening, from which I could

select whatever was useful or interesting. The grocer of the place,

Mr. Pedro Mendez, who employed a skilful fisherman daily to supply his

large family, gave directions that all the fishes caught should be

brought in, and before the kitchen received its provisions, I had my

choice of everything. This was a great favor, especially since the

Indian fisherman, José, whom I had engaged in Manaos to accompany me

through the rest of my journey, was now at Tabatinga, assisting Mr.

Bourget, who had been left there when I returned to Teffé. An old

Passé Indian, who was as familiar with the fishes of the waters as

with the animals of the forest, and whom Major Coutinho had befriended

for many years, rendered also great service in hunting particular

kinds of fishes and reptiles, the haunts of which he alone seemed to

know. The schoolmaster and his boys, in short, everybody who knew how

to catch fish or fowl, was out at work, and, with the assistance of my

young friends Dexter, Hunnewell, and Thayer, and the co-operation of

Major Coutinho and Mr. Burkhardt, our daily progress was unmistakable.

They generally took care of the collections of land animals, while I

reserved the fishes to myself, and Major Coutinho was busy with

geological and meteorological observations. Even the servants helped

in cleaning the skeletons. I made here a very extensive collection of

fish brains, embracing most genera found in this locality, but it was

unfortunately lost on arriving at Manaos. Aware of the difficulty of

transporting preparations so delicate, I kept them always by my side,

simply packed in an open barrel, in the hope of bringing them safely

home, and also that I might, without difficulty, add to the number. In

an unguarded moment, however, while landing, one of our attendants

capsized the whole into the Rio Negro. It is the only part of my

collections which was completely lost.

After setting my whole party well under way in Teffé, I made the very

instructive excursion with Major Estolano, of which an account is

given in the text, to the Lago do Boto, a small sheet of water, by the

side of his sitio on the banks of the main course of the Amazons,

where I had a fair opportunity of ascertaining how widely different

the fishes may be that inhabit adjoining faunæ in the same

hydrographic basin. To this day I have not yet recovered from my

surprise at finding that shores which, from a geographic point of

view, must be considered simply as opposite banks of the same stream,

were, nevertheless, the abode of an essentially different

ichthyological population. Among the most curious fishes obtained

here, I would mention a new genus, allied to Phractocephalus, of which

I know only a single very large species, remarkable for its uniform

canary-yellow color. Doras, Acestra, Pterygoplichthys, &c., were

particularly common. Small as this lake is, the largest animals known

in the whole basin are found in it: such as Manatees Botos,—the

Porpoise of the Amazons, which has given its name to the lake,

Alligators, Pirarucus,—the Sudis gigas of systematic writers;

Sorubims, the large flat-headed Hornpouts; Pacamums, the large, yellow

Siluroid above alluded to, &c., &c.—L. A.

Footnote 76:

It was Cuvier who first ascertained that the small Hyrax belongs to

the same order as the elephant.

CHAPTER VIII.

RETURN TO MANAOS.—AMAZONIAN PICNIC.

ARRIVAL AT MANAOS.—NEW QUARTERS.—THE “IBICUHY.”—NEWS FROM

HOME.—VISIT TO THE CASCADE.—BANHEIRAS IN THE FOREST.—EXCURSION TO

LAKE HYANUARY.—CHARACTER AND PROSPECTS OF THE AMAZONIAN

VALLEY.—RECEPTION AT THE LAKE.—DESCRIPTION OF SITIO.—SUCCESSFUL

FISHING.—INDIAN VISITORS.—INDIAN BALL.—CHARACTER OF THE

DANCING.—DISTURBED NIGHT.—CANOE EXCURSION.—SCENERY.—ANOTHER

SITIO.—MORALS AND MANNERS.—TALK WITH THE INDIAN WOMEN.—LIFE IN THE

FOREST.—LIFE IN THE TOWNS.—DINNER-PARTY.—TOASTS.—EVENING ROW ON

THE LAKE.—NIGHT SCENE.—SMOKING AMONG THE SENHORAS.—RETURN TO

MANAOS.

_October 24th._—Manaos. We reached Manaos yesterday. As we landed in the

afternoon, and as our arrival had not been expected with any certainty,

we had to wait a little while for lodgings; but before night we were

fairly established, our corps of assistants and all our scientific

apparatus, in a small house near the shore, Mr. Agassiz and myself in an

old, rambling edifice, used when we were here before for the public

treasury, which is now removed to another building. Our abode has still

rather the air of a public establishment, but it is very quaint and

pleasant inside, and, from its open, spacious character, is especially

agreeable in this climate. The apartment in which we have taken up our

quarters, making it serve both as drawing-room and chamber, is a long,

lofty hall, opening by a number of doors and windows on a large, green

enclosure, called by courtesy a garden, but which is, after all, only a

ragged space overgrown with grass, and having a few trees in it.

Nevertheless, it makes a pleasant background of shade and verdure. At

the upper end of our airy room hang our hammocks, and here are disposed

our trunks, boxes, &c.; in the other half are a couple of

writing-tables, a Yankee rocking-chair that looks as if it might have

come out of a Maine farmer’s house, a lounging-chair, and one or two

other pieces of furniture, which give it a domestic look and make it

serve very well as a parlor. There are many other apartments in this

rambling, rickety castle of ours, with its brick floors and its

rat-holes, its lofty, bare walls, and rough rafters overhead; but this

is the only one we have undertaken to make habitable, and to my eye it

presents a very happy combination of the cosey and the picturesque. We

have been already urged by some of our hospitable friends here to take

other lodgings; but we are much pleased with our quarters, and prefer to

retain them, at least for the present.

On our arrival we were greeted by the tidings that the first steamer of

the line recently opened between New York and Brazil had touched at Pará

on her way to Rio. According to all accounts, this has been made the

occasion of great rejoicing; and, indeed, there appears to be a strong

desire throughout Brazil to strengthen in every way her relations with

the United States. The opening of this line seems to bring us nearer

home, and its announcement, in connection with excellent news, public

and private, from the United States, made the day of our return to

Manaos a very happy one. A few hours after our own arrival the steamer

“Ibicuhy,” provided by the government for our use, came into port. To

our great pleasure, she brings Mr. Tavares Bastos, deputy from Alagoas,

whose uniform kindness to us personally ever since our arrival in

Brazil, as well as his interest in the success of the expedition, make

it a great pleasure to meet him again. This morning Mr. Agassiz received

the official document placing the steamer at his disposition, and also a

visit from her commander, Captain Faria.

_October 26th._—Yesterday morning at six o’clock we made our first

excursion to a pretty spot much talked of in Manaos on account of its

attractions for bathing, picnics, and country enjoyments of all sorts.

It is called the “little cascade,” to distinguish it from a larger and,

it is said, a much more picturesque fall, half a league from the city on

the other side. Half an hour’s row through a winding river brings you to

a rocky causeway, over which the water comes brawling down in a shallow

rapid. Here you land, and a path through the trees leads along the edge

of the igarapé to a succession of “banheiras,” as they call them here;

and they are indeed woodland bathing-pools fit for Diana and her nymphs,

completely surrounded by trees, and so separated from each other by

leafy screens, that a number of persons may bathe in perfect seclusion.

The water rushes through them with a delicious freshness, forming a

little cascade in each. The inhabitants make the most of this forest

bathing establishment while it lasts; the rise of the river during the

rainy season overflows and effaces it completely for half the year.

While we were bathing, the boatmen had lighted a fire, and when we

returned to the landing we found a pot of coffee simmering very

temptingly over the embers. Thus refreshed, we returned to town just as

the heat of the day was beginning to be oppressive.

_October 28th._—Yesterday morning, at about half past six o’clock, we

left Manaos on an excursion to the Lake of Hyanuary on the western side

of the Rio Negro. The morning was unusually fresh for these latitudes,

and a strong wind was blowing up so heavy a sea in the river, that, if

it did not make one actually sea-sick, it certainly called up very vivid

and painful associations. We were in a large eight-oared custom-house

barge, our company consisting of His Excellency Dr. Epaminondas,

President of the province, his Secretary, Senhor Codicera, Senhor

Tavares Bastos, Major Coutinho, Mr. Agassiz and myself, Mr. Burkhardt,

Mr. Dexter, and Mr. James. We were preceded by a smaller boat, an Indian

montaria, in which was our friend Senhor Honorio, who has been so kind

as to allow us to breakfast and dine with him during our stay here, and

who, having undertaken to provide for our creature comforts, had the

care of a boatful of provisions. After an hour’s row we left the rough

waters of the Rio Negro, and, rounding a wooded point, turned into an

igarapé which gradually narrowed up into one of those shaded, winding

streams, which make the charm of such excursions in this country. A

ragged drapery of long, faded grass hung from the lower branches of the

trees, marking the height of the last rise of the river to some eighteen

or twenty feet above its present level. Here and there a white heron

stood on the shore, his snowy plumage glittering in the sunlight, and

numbers of Ciganas (Opistocomus), the pheasants of the Amazons,

clustered in the bushes; once a pair of large king vultures

(Sarcorhamphus papa) rested for a moment within gunshot, but flew out of

sight as our canoe approached; and now and then an alligator showed his

head above water. As we floated along through this picturesque channel,

so characteristic of the wonderful region to which we were all more or

less strangers, Dr. Epaminondas and Senhor Tavares Bastos being here

also for the first time, the conversation turned naturally enough upon

the nature of this Amazonian valley, its physical conformation, its

origin and resources, its history past and to come, both alike obscure,

both the subject of wonder and speculation. Senhor Tavares Bastos,

although not yet thirty years of age, is already distinguished in the

politics of his country, and from the moment he entered upon public life

to the present time the legislation of the Amazons, its relation to the

future progress and development of the Brazilian Empire, have been the

object of his deepest interest. He is a leader in that class of men who

advocate the most liberal policy with regard to this question, and has

already urged upon his countrymen the importance, even from selfish

motives, of sharing their great treasure with the world. He was little

more than twenty years of age when he published his papers on the

opening of the Amazons, which have done more, perhaps, than anything

else, of late years, to attract attention to the subject.[77] There are

points where the researches of the statesman and the investigator meet,

and natural science is not without a voice even in the practical

bearings of this question. Shall this region be legislated for as sea or

land? Shall the interests of agriculture or navigation prevail in its

councils? Is it essentially aquatic or terrestrial? Such were some of

the inquiries which came up in the course of the discussion. A region of

country which stretches across a whole continent and is flooded for half

the year, where there can never be railroads or highways, or even

pedestrian travelling to any great extent, can hardly be considered as

dry land. It is true that in this oceanic river-system the tidal action

has an annual instead of a daily ebb and flow, that its rise and fall

obey a larger orb, and is ruled by the sun and not the moon; but it is,

nevertheless, subject to all the conditions of a submerged district, and

must be treated as such. Indeed, these semiannual changes of level are

far more powerful in their influence on the life of the inhabitants than

any marine tides. People sail half the year above districts where for

the other half they walk, though hardly dry shod, over the soaked

ground; their occupations, their dress, their habits are modified in

accordance with the dry and wet seasons. And not only the ways of life,

but the whole aspect of the country, the character of the landscape, are

changed. The two picturesque cascades, at one of which we took our bath

the other morning, and at this season such favorite resorts with the

inhabitants of Manaos, will disappear in a few months, when the river

rises for some forty feet above its lowest level. Their bold rocks and

shady nooks will have become river bottom. All that we hear or read of

the extent of the Amazons and its tributaries fails to give an idea of

its immensity as a whole. One must float for months upon its surface, in

order to understand how fully water has the mastery over land along its

borders. Its watery labyrinth is rather a fresh-water ocean, cut up and

divided by land, than a network of rivers. Indeed, this whole valley is

an aquatic, not a terrestrial basin; and it is not strange, when looked

upon from this point of view, that its forests should be less full of

life, comparatively, than its rivers.

While we were discussing these points, talking of the time when the

banks of the Amazons will teem with a population more active and

vigorous than any it has yet seen,—when all civilized nations will share

in its wealth, when the twin continents will shake hands and Americans

of the North come to help Americans of the South in developing its

resources,—when it will be navigated from north to south as well as from

east to west, and small steamers will run up to the head-quarters of all

its tributaries,—while we were speculating on these things, we were

approaching the end of our journey; and as we neared the lake, there

issued from its entrance a small two-masted canoe, evidently bound on

some official mission, for it carried the Brazilian flag, and was

adorned with many brightly-colored streamers. As it drew near we heard

music, and a salvo of rockets, the favorite Brazilian artillery on all

festive occasions, whether by day or night, shot up into the air. Our

arrival had been announced by Dr. Canavaro, of Manaos, who had come out

the day before to make some preparations for our reception, and this was

a welcome to the President on his first visit to the Indian village.

When they came within speaking distance, a succession of hearty cheers

went up for the President, for Tavares Bastos, whose character as the

political advocate of the Amazons makes him especially welcome here, for

Major Coutinho, already well known from his former explorations in this

region, and for the strangers within their gates,—for the Professor and

his party. After this reception they fell into line behind our boat, and

so we came into the little port with something of state and ceremony.

This pretty Indian village is hardly recognized as a village at once,

for it consists of a number of sitios scattered through the forest; and

though the inhabitants look on each other as friends and neighbors, yet

from our landing-place only one sitio is to be seen,—that at which we

are staying. It stands on a hill sloping gently up from the lake-shore,

and consists of a mud-house containing two rooms, besides several large,

open palm-thatched rooms outside. One of these outer sheds is the

mandioca kitchen, another is the common kitchen, and a third, which is

just now used as our dining-room, serves on festal days and occasional

Sundays as a chapel. It differs from the others in having the upper end

closed in with a neat thatched wall, against which, in time of need, the

altar-table may stand, with candles and rough prints or figures of the

Virgin and saints. We were very hospitably received by the Senhora of

the mud-house, an old Indian woman, whose gold ornaments, necklace, and

ear-rings were rather out of keeping with her calico skirt and cotton

waist. This is, however, by no means an unusual combination here. Beside

the old lady, the family consists, at this moment, of her “afilhada”[78]

(god-daughter), with her little boy, and several other women employed

about the place; but it is difficult to judge of the population of the

sitios now, because a great number of the men have been taken as

recruits for the war with Paraguay and others are hiding in the forest

for fear of being pressed into the same service. The situation of this

sitio is exceedingly pretty, and as we sit around the table in our open,

airy dining-room, surrounded by the forest, we command a view of the

lake and wooded hillside opposite and of the little landing below, where

are moored our barge with its white awning, the gay canoe, and two or

three Indian montarias. After breakfast our party dispersed, some to

rest in their hammocks, others to hunt or fish, while Mr. Agassiz was

fully engaged in examining a large basket of fish, Tucanarés (Cichla),

Acaras (Heros and other genera), Curimatas (Anodus), Surubims

(Platystoma), &c., just brought up from the lake for his inspection, and

showing again, what every investigation demonstrates afresh, namely, the

distinct localization of species in each different water basin, be it

river, lake, igarapé, or forest pool.

[Illustration: Dining Room at Hyanuary.]

One does not see much of the world between one o’clock and four, in this

climate. These are the hottest hours of the day, and there are few who

can resist the temptation of the cool, swinging hammock, slung in some

shady spot within doors or without. After a little talk with our Indian

hostess and her daughter, I found a quiet retreat by the lake-shore,

where, though I had a book in my hand, the wind in the trees overhead,

the water rippling softly around the montarias moored at my side, lulled

me into that mood of mind when one may be lazy without remorse or ennui.

The highest duty seems then to be to do nothing. The monotonous notes of

a “Viola” came to me from a group of trees at a little distance, where

our boatmen were resting in the shade, the red fringes of their hammocks

giving to the landscape just the bit of color which it needed;

occasionally a rustling flight of parroquets or ciganas overhead

startled me for a moment, or a large pirarucu plashed out of the water,

but except for these sounds nature was still, and animals as well as men

seemed to pause in the heat and seek shelter. Dinner brought us all

together again at the close of the afternoon. As we are with the

President of the province, our picnic is of a much more magnificent

character than our purely scientific excursions have been. Instead of

our usual makeshifts,—teacups doing duty as tumblers, and empty barrels

acting as chairs,—we have a silver soup-tureen, and a cook, and a

waiter, and knives and forks enough to go round, and many other luxuries

which such wayfarers as ourselves learn to do without. While we were

dining, the Indians began to come in from the surrounding forest to pay

their respects to the President, for his visit was the cause of great

rejoicing, and there was to be a ball in his honor in the evening. They

brought an enormous cluster of game as an offering. What a mass of color

it was!—more like a gorgeous bouquet of flowers than a bunch of birds.

It was composed entirely of Toucans, with their red and yellow beaks,

blue eyes, and soft white breasts bordered with crimson; and of parrots,

or papagaios as they call them here, with their gorgeous plumage of

green, blue, purple, and red. When we had dined, we took coffee outside,

while our places around the table were filled by the Indian guests, who

were to have a dinner-party in their turn. It was pleasant to see with

how much courtesy several of the Brazilian gentlemen of our party waited

upon these Indian Senhoras, passing them a variety of dishes, helping

them to wine, and treating them with as much attention as if they had

been the highest ladies of the land. They seemed, however, rather shy

and embarrassed, scarcely touching the nice things placed before them,

till one of the gentlemen, who has lived a good deal among the Indians,

and knows their habits perfectly, took the knife and fork from one of

them, exclaiming, “Make no ceremony, and don’t be ashamed; eat with your

fingers as you’re accustomed to do, and then you’ll find your appetites

and enjoy your dinner.” His advice was followed, and I must say they

seemed much more comfortable in consequence, and did more justice to the

good fare. Although the Indians who live in the neighborhood of the

towns have seen too much of the conventionalities of life not to

understand the use of a knife and fork, no Indian will eat with one if

he can help it.

When the dinner was over, the room was cleared of the tables and swept;

the music, consisting of a viola, flute, and violin, was called in, and

the ball was opened. The forest belles were rather shy at first in the

presence of strangers; but they soon warmed up and began to dance with

more animation. They were all dressed in calico or muslin skirts, with

loose, cotton waists, finished around the neck with a kind of lace they

make themselves by drawing the threads from cotton or muslin, so as to

form an open pattern, sewing those which remain over and over to secure

them. Some of this lace is quite elaborate and very fine. Many of the

women had their hair dressed either with white jessamine or with roses

stuck into their round combs, and several wore gold beads and ear-rings.

The dances were different from those I saw in Esperança’s cottage, and

much more animated; but the women preserved the same air of quiet

indifference which I noticed there. Indeed, in all the Indian dances I

have seen the man makes the advances, while the woman is coy and

retiring, her movements being very languid. Her partner throws himself

at her feet, but does not elicit a smile or a gesture; he stoops and

pretends to be fishing; making motions as if he were drawing her in with

a line, he dances around her, snapping his fingers as if he were playing

on castanets, and half encircling her with his arms, but she remains

reserved and cold. Now and then they join together in something like a

waltz, but this is only occasionally and for a moment. How different

from the negro dances which we saw frequently in the neighborhood of

Rio, and in which the advances generally come from the women, and are

not always of the most modest character. The ball was gayer than ever at

ten o’clock when I went to my room,—or rather to the room where my

hammock was slung, and which I shared with Indian women and children,

with a cat and her family of kittens, who slept on the edge of my

mosquito-net and made frequent inroads upon the inside, with hens and

chickens and sundry dogs, who went in and out. The music and dancing,

the laughter and talking outside, continued till the small hours. Every

now and then an Indian girl would come in to rest for a while, take a

nap in a hammock, and then return to the dance. When we first arrived in

South America we could hardly have slept soundly under such

circumstances; but one soon becomes accustomed, on the Amazons, to

sleeping in rooms with mud floors and mud walls, or with no walls at

all, where rats and birds and bats rustle about in the thatch overhead,

and all sorts of unwonted noises in the night suggest that you are by no

means the sole occupant of your apartment. There is one thing, however,

which makes it far pleasanter to lodge in the houses of the Indians here

than in those of our poorer class at home. One is quite independent in

the matter of bedding; nobody travels without his own hammock, and the

net which in many places is a necessity on account of the mosquitoes.

Beds and bedding are almost unknown; and there are none so poor as not

to possess two or three of the strong and neat twine hammocks made by

the Indians themselves from the fibres of the palm. Then the open

character of the houses and the personal cleanliness of the Indians make

the atmosphere fresher and purer in their houses than in those of our

poor. However untidy they may be in other respects, they always bathe

once or twice a day, if not oftener, and wash their clothes frequently.

We have never yet entered an Indian house where there was any

disagreeable odor, unless it might be the peculiar smell from the

preparation of the mandioca in the working-room outside, which has, at a

certain stage of the process, a slightly sour smell. We certainly could

not say as much for many houses where we have lodged when travelling in

the West, or even “Down East,” where the suspicious look of the bedding

and the close air of the room often make one doubtful about the night’s

rest.

This morning we were up at five o’clock, and at six we had had coffee

and were ready for the various projects suggested for our amusement. Our

sportsmen were already in the forest, others had gone off on a fishing

excursion in a montaria, and I joined a party on a visit to a sitio

higher up on the lake. Mr. Agassiz was obliged to deny himself all these

parties of pleasure, for the novelty and variety of the fish brought in

kept him and his artist constantly at work. In this climate the process

of decomposition goes on so rapidly, that, unless the specimens are

attended to at once, they are lost; and the paintings must be made while

they are quite fresh, in order to give any idea of their vividness of

tint. Mr. Burkhardt is indefatigable, always busy with his drawing, in

spite of heat, mosquitoes, and other discomforts; occasionally he makes

not less than twenty colored sketches of fishes in one day. Of course,

made with such rapidity, they are mere records of color and outline; but

they will be of immense service in working up the finished drawings.[79]

Leaving Mr. Agassiz, therefore, busy with the preparation of his

collections, and Mr. Burkhardt painting, we went up the lake through a

strange, half-aquatic, half-terrestrial region, where land seemed at

odds with water. Groups of trees rose directly from the lake, their

roots hidden below its surface, while numerous blackened and decayed

trunks stood up from the water in all sorts of picturesque and fantastic

forms. Sometimes the trees had thrown down from their branches those

singular aerial roots so common here, and seemed standing on stilts.

Here and there, where we coasted along by the bank, we had a glimpse

into the deeper forest, with its drapery of lianas and various creeping

vines, and its parasitic sipos twining close around the trunks or

swinging themselves from branch to branch like loose cordage. But

usually the margin of the lake was a gently sloping bank, covered with a

green so vivid and yet so soft, that it seemed as if the earth had been

born afresh in its six months’ baptism, and had come out like a new

creation. Here and there a palm lifted its head above the line of

forest, especially the light, graceful Assai, its crown of feathery

leaves vibrating above the tall, slender, smooth stem with every breeze.

Half an hour’s row brought us to the landing of the sitio for which we

were bound. Usually the sitios stand on the bank of the lake or river, a

stone’s throw from the shore, for convenience of fishing, bathing, &c.

But this one was at some distance, with a very nicely kept path winding

through the forest. It stood on the brow of a hill which dipped down on

the other side into a wide and deep ravine; through this ravine ran an

igarapé, beyond which the land rose again in an undulating line of hilly

ground, most refreshing to the eye after the flat character of the Upper

Amazonian scenery. The fact that this sitio, standing now on a hill

overlooking the valley and the little stream at its bottom, will have

the water nearly flush with the ground around it, when the igarapé is

swollen by the rise of the river, gives an idea of the difference of

aspect between the dry and wet seasons. The establishment consisted of a

number of buildings, the most conspicuous being a large open room, which

the Indian Senhora who did the honors of the house told me was their

reception-room, and was often used, she said, by the “brancas” from

Manaos and the neighborhood for an evening dance, when they came out in

a large company and passed the night. A low wall, some three or four

feet in height, ran along the sides, wooden benches being placed against

them for their whole length. The two ends were closed from top to bottom

with a wall made of palm-thatch, exceedingly pretty, fine, and smooth,

and of a soft straw color. At the upper end stood an immense

embroidery-frame, looking as if it might have served for Penelope’s web,

but in which was stretched an unfinished hammock of palm-thread, the

Senhora’s work. She sat down on a low stool before it and worked a

little for my benefit, showing me how the two layers of transverse

threads were kept apart by a thick, polished piece of wood, something

like a long, broad ruler. Through the opening thus made the shuttle is

passed with the cross thread, which is then pushed down and straightened

in its place by means of the same piece of wood. After we had rested for

a while, hammocks of various color and texture being immediately brought

and hung up for our accommodation, the gentlemen went down to bathe in

the igarapé, while the Senhora and her daughter, a very pretty Indian

woman, showed me the rest of the establishment. The elder of the two had

the direction of everything now, as the master of the house was absent,

having a captain’s commission in the army.

In the course of our conversation I was reminded of a social feature

which strikes us as the more extraordinary the longer we remain on the

Amazons, on account of its generality. Here were people of gentle

condition, although of Indian blood, lifted above everything like want,

living in comfort and, as compared with people about them, with a

certain affluence,—people from whom, therefore, in any other society,

you might certainly expect a knowledge of the common rules of morality.

Yet when I was introduced to the daughter, and naturally asked something

about her father, supposing him to be the absent captain, the mother

answered, smiling, quite as a matter of course, “Naō tem pai; é filha da

fortúna,”—“She hasn’t any father; she is the daughter of chance.” In the

same way, when the daughter showed me two children of her own,—little

fair people, many shades lighter than herself,—and I asked whether their

father was at the war, like all the rest of the men, she gave me the

same answer, “They haven’t any father.” It is the way the Indian or

half-breed women here always speak of their illegitimate children; and

though they say it without an intonation of sadness or of blame,

apparently as unconscious of any wrong or shame as if they said the

father was absent or dead, it has the most melancholy significance; it

seems to speak of such absolute desertion. So far is this from being an

unusual case, that among the common people the opposite seems the

exception. Children are frequently quite ignorant of their parentage.

They know about their mother, for all the care and responsibility falls

upon her, but they have no knowledge of their father; nor does it seem

to occur to the woman that she or her children have any claim upon him.

But to return to the sitio. The room I have described stood on one side

of a cleared and neatly swept ground, about which, at various distances,

stood a number of little thatched “casinhas,” as they call them,

consisting mostly of a single room. But beside these there was one

larger house, with mud walls and floor, containing two or three rooms,

and having a wooden veranda in front. This was the Senhora’s private

establishment. At a little distance farther down on the hill was the

mandioca kitchen and all the accompanying apparatus. Nothing could be

neater than the whole area of this sitio, and while we were there two or

three black girls were sent out to sweep it afresh with their stiff

twig-brooms. Around lay the plantation of mandioca and cacao, with here

and there a few coffee-shrubs. It is difficult to judge of the extent of

these sitio plantations, because they are so irregular and comprise such

a variety of trees,—mandioca, coffee, cacao, and often cotton, being

planted pellmell together. But this one, like the whole establishment,

seemed larger and better cared for than those usually seen. On the

return of the gentlemen from the igarapé we took leave, though very

warmly pressed to stay and breakfast. At parting, our Indian hostess

presented me with a wicker-basket of fresh eggs and some abacatys, or

alligator pears as we call them.[80] We reached the house just in time

for a ten o’clock breakfast, which assembled all the different parties

once more from their various occupations, whether of work or play. The

sportsmen returned from the forest, bringing a goodly supply of toucans,

papagaios, and parroquets, with a variety of other birds, and the

fisherman brought in new treasures for Mr. Agassiz.

_October 29th._—Yesterday, after breakfast, I retreated to the room

where we had passed the night, hoping to find time and quiet for writing

letters and completing my journal. But I found it already occupied by

the old Senhora and her guests, who were lounging in the hammocks or

squatting on the floor and smoking their pipes. The house is indeed full

to overflowing, as the whole party assembled for the ball are to stay

during the President’s visit. But in this way of living it is an easy

matter to accommodate any number of people, for if they cannot all be

received under the roof, they can hang their hammocks under the trees

outside. As I went to my room last evening, I stopped to look at a

pretty picture of an Indian mother with her two little children asleep

on either arm, all in one hammock, in the open air. My Indian friends

were too much interested in my occupations to allow of my continuing

them uninterruptedly. They were delighted with my books (I happened to

have “The Naturalist on the Amazons” with me, in which I showed them

some pictures of Amazonian scenery and insects), and asked me many

questions about my country, my voyage, and my travels here. In return

they gave me much information about their own way of life. They said the

present gathering of neighbors and friends was no unusual occurrence,

for they have a great many festas, which, though partly religious in

character, are also occasions of great festivity. These festas are

celebrated at different sitios in turn, the saint of the day being

carried, with all his ornaments, candles, bouquets, &c., to the house

where the ceremony is to take place, and where all the people of the

village congregate. Sometimes the festa lasts for several days, and is

accompanied with processions, music, and dances in the evening. But the

women said the forest was very sad now, because their men had all been

taken as recruits, or were seeking safety in the woods. The old Senhora

told me a sad story of the brutality exercised in recruiting the

Indians. She assured me that they were taken wherever found, without

regard to age or circumstances, women and children often being dependent

upon them; and if they made resistance, were carried off by force, and

frequently handcuffed or had heavy weights attached to their feet. Such

proceedings are entirely illegal; but these forest villages are so

remote, that the men employed to recruit may practice any cruelty

without being called to account for it. If the recruits are brought in

in good condition, no questions are asked. These women said that all the

work of the sitios—the making of farinha, the fishing, the

turtle-hunting—was stopped for want of hands. The appearance of things

certainly confirms this, for we scarcely see any men in the villages,

and the canoes we meet are mostly rowed by women.

Yet I must say that the life of the Indian woman, so far as we have seen

it, seems enviable, in comparison with that of the Brazilian lady in the

Amazonian towns. The former has a healthful out-of-door life; she has

her canoe on the lake or river and her paths through the forest, with

perfect liberty to come and go; she has her appointed daily occupations,

being busy not only with the care of her house and children, but in

making farinha or tapioca, or in drying and rolling tobacco, while the

men are fishing and turtle-hunting; and she has her frequent festa-days

to enliven her working life. It is, on the contrary, impossible to

imagine anything more dreary and monotonous than the life of the

Brazilian Senhora in the smaller towns. In the northern provinces

especially the old Portuguese notions about shutting women up and making

their home-life as colorless as that of a cloistered nun, without even

the element of religious enthusiasm to give it zest, still prevail. Many

a Brazilian lady passes day after day without stirring beyond her four

walls, scarcely ever showing herself at the door or window; for she is

always in a slovenly dishabille, unless she expects company. It is sad

to see these stifled existences; without any contact with the world

outside, without any charm of domestic life, without books or culture of

any kind, the Brazilian Senhora in this part of the country either sinks

contentedly into a vapid, empty, aimless life, or frets against her

chains, and is as discontented as she is useless.

On the day of our arrival the dinner was interrupted by the entrance of

the Indians with their greetings and presents of game to the President;

yesterday it was enlivened by quite a number of appropriate toasts and

speeches. I thought, as we sat around the dinner-table, there had

probably never been gathered under the palm-roof of an Indian house on

the Amazons just such a party before, combining so many different

elements and objects. There was the President, whose chief interest was

of course in administering the affairs of the province, in which the

Indians shared largely his attention; there was the young statesman,

whose whole heart is in the great national question of peopling the

Amazons and opening it to the world, and the effect this movement is to

have upon his country; there was the able engineer, much of whose

scientific life has been passed in surveying the great river and its

tributaries with a view to their future navigation; and there was the

man of pure science, come to study the distribution of animal life in

their waters, without any view to practical questions. The speeches

touched upon all these different interests, and were received with

enthusiasm, each one closing with a toast and music; for our little band

of the night before was brought in to enliven the occasion. The

Brazilians are very happy in their after-dinner speeches, expressing

themselves with great facility, either from a natural gift or because

speech-making is an art in which they have had much practice. The habit

of drinking healths and giving toasts is very general throughout the

country, and the most informal dinner among intimate friends does not

conclude without some mutual greetings of this kind.

As we were taking coffee under the trees afterwards, having yielded our

places, in the primitive dining-room, to the Indian guests, the

President suggested a sunset row on the lake. The hour and the light

were most tempting, and we were soon off in the canoe, taking no

boatmen, the gentlemen preferring to row themselves. We went through the

same lovely region, half water, half land, which we had passed in the

morning, floating between patches of greenest grass, and by large forest

trees, and blackened trunks standing out of the lake like ruins. We did

not go very fast nor very far, for our amateur boatmen found the evening

warm, and their rowing was rather play than work; they stopped, too,

every now and then, to get a shot at a white heron or to shoot into a

flock of parroquets or ciganas, whereby they wasted a good deal of

powder to no effect. As we turned to come back we were met by one of the

prettiest sights I have ever seen. The Indian women, having finished

their dinner, had taken the little two-masted canoe, dressed with flags,

which had been prepared for the President’s reception, and had come out

to meet us. They had the music on board and there were two or three men

in the boat; but the women were some twelve or fifteen in number, and

seemed, like genuine Amazons, to have taken things into their own hands.

They were rowing with a will; and as the canoe drew near, with music

playing and flags flying, the purple lake, dyed in the sunset and smooth

as a mirror, gave back the picture. Every tawny figure at the oars,

every flutter of the crimson and blue streamers, every fold of the green

and yellow national flag at the prow, was as distinct below the surface

as above it. The fairy boat—for so it looked—floating between glowing

sky and water, and seeming to borrow color from both, came on apace; and

as it approached, our friends greeted us with many a _Viva_, to which we

responded as heartily. Then the two canoes joined company and we went on

together, the guitar sometimes being taken into one canoe and sometimes

into the other, while Brazilian and Indian songs followed each other.

Anything more national, more completely imbued with tropical coloring

and character than this evening scene on the lake, can hardly be

conceived. When we reached the landing, the gold and rose-colored clouds

were fading into soft masses of white and ashen gray, and moonlight was

taking the place of sunset. As we went up the green slope to the sitio,

a dance on the grass was proposed, and the Indian girls formed a

quadrille; for thus much of civilization has crept into their native

manners, though they throw into it so much of their own characteristic

movements, that it loses something of its conventional aspect. Then we

returned to the house, where the dancing and singing were renewed, while

here and there groups sat about on the ground laughing and talking, the

women smoking with as much enjoyment as the men. Smoking is almost

universal among the common women here, yet is not confined to the lower

classes. Many a Senhora (at least in this part of Brazil, for we must

distinguish between the civilization on the banks of the Amazons and in

the interior and that in the cities along the coast) enjoys her pipe,

while she lounges in her hammock through the heat of the day.

_October 30th._—Yesterday our party broke up. The Indian women came to

bid us good-by after breakfast, and dispersed to their several homes,

going off in various directions through the forest-paths in little

groups, their babies, of whom there were a goodly number, astride on

their hips, as usual, and the older children following. Mr. Agassiz

passed the morning in packing and arranging his fishes, having collected

in those two days more than seventy new species.[81] His studies have

been the subject of great curiosity to the people about the sitio; one

or two were always hovering about to look at his work and to watch Mr.

Burkhardt’s drawing. They seemed to think it extraordinary that any one

should care to take the portrait of a fish. The familiarity of these

children of the forest with the natural objects about them—plants,

birds, insects, fishes, etc.—is remarkable. They frequently ask to see

the drawings; and in turning over a pile containing several hundred

colored sketches of fishes, they scarcely make a mistake,—even the

children giving the name instantly, and often adding, “É filho d’este,”

(it is the child of such an one,) thus distinguishing the young from the

adult, and pointing out their relation.

We dined rather earlier than usual, our chief dish being a stew of

parrots and toucans, and left the sitio at about five o’clock, in three

canoes, the music accompanying us in the smaller boat. Our Indian

friends stood on the shore as we left, giving us farewell greetings,

waving their hats and hands, and cheering heartily. The afternoon row

through the lake and igarapé was delicious; but the sun had long set as

we issued from the little river, and the Rio Negro, where it opens

broadly out into the Amazons, was a sea of silver. The boat with the

music presently joined our canoe, and we had a number of the Brazilian

“modinhas,” as they call them,—songs which seem especially adapted for

the guitar. These modinhas have a quite peculiar character. They are

little graceful, lyrical snatches of song, with a rather melancholy

cadence; even those of which the words are gay not being quite free from

this undertone of sadness. This put us all into a somewhat dreamy mood,

and we approached the end of our journey rather silently. But as we drew

near the landing, we heard the sound of a band of brass instruments,

effectually drowning our feeble efforts, and saw a crowded canoe coming

towards us. They were the boys from the Indian school which we visited

on our previous stay at Manaos. The canoe looked very pretty as it came

towards us in the moonlight; it seemed full to overflowing, the children

all dressed in white uniforms and standing up. This little band comes

always on Sunday evenings and festa-days to play before the President’s

house. They were just going home, it being nearly ten o’clock; but the

President called to them to turn back, and they accompanied us to the

beach, playing all the while. Thus our pleasant three days’ picnic ended

with music and moonlight.

-----

Footnote 77:

The most accurate information upon the industrial resources of the

Valley of the Amazons may be found in a work published by Senhor

Tavares Bastos, on his return to Rio de Janeiro, after this journey,

entitled “O Valle do Amazonas—Estudo sobre a livre Navegaçaō do

Amazonas, Estatistica, Producçöes, Commercio, Questöes Fiscaes do

Valle do Amazonas.” Rio de Janeiro, 1866.

Footnote 78:

This relation is a much nearer one throughout Brazil than with us. A

god-child is treated as a member of their own family by its sponsors.

Footnote 79:

In the course of our journey on the Amazons, Mr. Burkhardt made more

than eight hundred paintings of fishes, more or less finished.—L. A.

Footnote 80:

The fruit of the Persea gratissima.

Footnote 81:

I was indebted to the President for many valuable specimens on this

excursion, many of the birds and fishes brought in by the Indians for

the table being turned over to the scientific collections. My young

friends Dexter and James were also efficient, passing always a part of

the day in the woods, and assisting me greatly in the preparation and

preservation of the specimens. Among others we made a curious skeleton

of a large black Doras, a species remarkable for the row of powerful

scales extending along the side, each one provided with a sharp hook

bent backward. It is the species I have described, in Spix and

Martius’s great work, under the name of Doras Humboldti. The anterior

vertebræ form a bony swelling of a spongeous texture, resembling

drums, on each side of the backbone.—L. A.

CHAPTER IX.

MANAOS AND ITS NEIGHBORHOOD.

PHOTOGRAPHIC ESTABLISHMENT.—INDIAN PORTRAITS.—EXCURSION TO THE

“GREAT CASCADE.”—ITS GEOLOGICAL FORMATION.—BATHING POOL.—PARASITIC

PLANTS.—RETURN BY THE IGARAPÉ.—PUBLIC BALL.—SEVERITY IN

RECRUITING, AND ITS EFFECTS.—COLLECTING PARTIES.—SCENES OF INDIAN

LIFE.—FÊTE CHAMPÊTRE AT THE “CASA DOS EDUCANDOS.”—PRISON

AT MANAOS.—PRISON DISCIPLINE ON THE AMAZONS.—EXTRACTS

FROM PRESIDENTIAL REPORTS ON THIS SUBJECT.—PRISON AT

TEFFÉ.—GENERAL CHARACTER OF BRAZILIAN INSTITUTIONS.—EMPEROR’S

BIRTHDAY.—ILLUMINATIONS AND PUBLIC FESTIVITIES.—RETURN OF

COLLECTING PARTIES.—REMARKS ON THE RACES.—LEAVE MANAOS FOR MAUHES.

_Saturday, November 4th._—Manaos. This week has been rather uneventful.

Mr. Agassiz is prevented from undertaking new expeditions by the want of

alcohol. The next steamer will bring a fresh supply from Pará; and

meanwhile, being interrupted in his collections, he is making a study of

the various intermixture of races, Indians and Negroes, with their

crossings, of which a great number are found here. Our picturesque

barrack of a room, which we have left for more comfortable quarters in

Mr. Honorio’s house, serves as a photographic saloon, and here Mr.

Agassiz is at work half the day with his young friend Mr. Hunnewell, who

spent almost the whole time of our stay in Rio in learning photography,

and has become quite expert in taking likenesses. The grand difficulty

is found in the prejudices of the people themselves. There is a

prevalent superstition among the Indians and Negroes that a portrait

absorbs into itself something of the vitality of the sitter, and that

any one is liable to die shortly after his picture is taken. This notion

is so deeply rooted that it has been no easy matter to overcome it.

However, of late the desire to see themselves in a picture is gradually

gaining the ascendant, the example of a few courageous ones having

emboldened the more timid, and models are much more easily obtained now

than they were at first.

Yesterday our quiet life was interrupted by an excursion to the great

cascade, where we went with a party of friends to breakfast and dine. We

were called with the dawn, and were on the road at six o’clock, the

servants following laden with baskets of provisions. The dewy walk

through the woods in the early morning was very pleasant, and we arrived

at the little house above the cascade before the heat of the day began.

This house stands on a hill in a cleared ground entirely surrounded by

forest; just below it the river comes rushing through the wood, and

falls some ten feet over a thin platform of rock. By its formation, this

cascade is a Niagara in miniature; that is, the lower layer of rock

being softer than the upper, the water has worn it away until there now

remains only a thin slab of harder rock across the river. Deprived of

its support, this slab must break down eventually, as Table-rock has

done, when the cascade will, of course, retreat by so much and begin the

same process a little higher up. It has, no doubt, thus worn its way

upward already from a distant point. The lower deposit is clay, the

upper consists of the constantly recurring reddish sandstone,—in other

words, drift worked over by water. Below the fall, the water goes

tearing along through a narrow passage, over boulders, fallen trees, and

decaying logs, which break it into rapids. At a little distance from the

cascade there is a deep, broad basin in the wood, with a sand bottom, so

overshadowed by great trees that it looks dark even in tropical midday.

The bathing here, as we found by experience at a later hour, is most

delicious. The shade over the pool is so profound and the current runs

through it so swiftly that the water is exceedingly cold,—an unusual

thing here,—and it seems very refreshing to those coming from the hot

sun outside. At the side of this pool I saw a very large parasitic plant

in flower. Since we have been on the Amazons most of these parasites

have been out of bloom, and, though we have seen beautiful collections

in private gardens, we have not met them in the woods. This one was

growing in the lofty notch of a great tree, overhanging the water; a

tuft of dark green leaves with large violet and straw-colored blossoms

among them. It was quite out of reach, and the little garden looked so

pretty in its airy perch, that I was almost glad we had no power to

disturb it. After breakfast some of the guests, and Mr. Agassiz among

them, were obliged to return to town on business. They rejoined us in

time for a late dinner, arriving in a canoe instead of coming on foot,

an experiment which we had been prevented from trying in the morning,

because we had been told that, as the igarapé was low and the bottom

very rocky, it would be impossible to ascend the whole distance in a

boat. They came, however, in perfect safety, and were delighted with the

picturesque beauty of the row. After a very cheerful dinner, closing

with a cup of coffee in the open air, we started at twilight for town,

by different roads. Desirous to see the lower course of the igarapé,

which Mr. Agassiz reported as so beautiful, and being assured that there

was no real danger, I returned in the little canoe with Mr. Honorio. It

was thought best not to overload it, so the others took the forest road

by which we had come in the morning. I must say that as I went down the

rough steps to the landing, in the very pool where we had bathed, it

struck me that the undertaking was somewhat perilous; if this

overshadowed nook was dark at noonday, it was black at nightfall, and

the turbulent little stream, rushing along over rocks and logs, looked

mischievous. The rest of the party went with us to the embarkation, and,

as we disappeared in the darkness under the overhanging branches, one of

them called after us, laughingly,

“Lasciate ogni speranza, voi che ’ntrate.”

However, there was only danger enough to laugh at, none to give real

concern, and I enjoyed the row through the narrow channel, where the

trees met overhead, and where the boatmen were obliged to jump into the

water to guide the canoe among the boulders and fallen trunks. We

reached home in perfect safety, and in time to welcome the others when

they arrived on foot.

_November 8th._—Manaos has been in unwonted agitation, for the last few

days, on the subject of a public ball to be given in honor of Mr.

Tavares Bastos. Where it should take place, what should be the day and

hour, and, among the Senhoras, what one should wear, have been the

subjects of discussion. The doubtful questions were at last settled, and

it was appointed for the fifth of the month, in the President’s palace.

“Palace” is the name always given to the residence of the President of

the province, however little the house may be in keeping with the title.

The night was not so auspicious as could have been wished; it was very

dark, and, as no such luxury as a carriage is known here, the different

parties might be seen groping through the streets at the appointed hour,

lighted with lanterns. Every now and then, as we were on our way, a

ball-dress would emerge from the darkness of an opposite corner, picking

its way with great care along the muddy ruts. When we had all assembled,

however, I did not see that any toilet had suffered seriously on the

road. The dresses were of every variety, from silks and satins to stuff

gowns, and the complexions of all tints, from the genuine negro through

paler shades of Indian and negro to white. There is absolutely no

distinction of color here; a black lady, always supposing her to be

free, is treated with as much consideration and meets with as much

attention as a white one. It is, however, rare to see a person in

society who can be called a genuine negro; but there are many mulattoes

and mamelucos, that is, persons having black or Indian blood. There is

little ease in Brazilian society, even in the larger cities; still less

in the smaller ones, where, to guard against mistakes, the

conventionalities of town life are exaggerated. The Brazilians, indeed,

though so kind and hospitable, are a formal people, fond of etiquette

and social solemnities. On their arrival, all the Senhoras were placed

in stiff rows around the walls of the dancing-room. Occasionally an

unfortunate cavalier would stray in and address a few words to this

formidable array of feminine charms; but it was not until the close of

the evening, when the dancing had broken up the company into groups,

that the scene became really gay. At intervals, trays of “doces” and tea

were handed round, and at twelve there was a more solid repast, at which

all the ladies were seated, their partners standing behind their chairs

and waiting upon them. Then began the toasts and healths, which were

given and received with great enthusiasm. After supper the dancing was

renewed and continued till after midnight, when the steamer from Pará

was seen coming into port, throwing up rockets and burning blue-lights

as she advanced, to announce that she was the bearer of good tidings

from the war. This, of course, gave general satisfaction, and the ball

broke up in great hilarity. There were some who did not sleep at all

that night, for many of the gentlemen went from the ball-room to the

steamer in search of the papers, which brought the news of a decided

victory over the Paraguayans, at Uruguayana, where the Emperor commanded

in person. It is said that seven thousand prisoners were taken. The next

night the ball was renewed in honor of this victory; so that Manaos,

whose inhabitants complain of the life as very dull, has had a most

unwonted rush of gayety this week.

_November 9th._—The severity in recruiting, of which we heard so much at

the Lake of Hyanuary, is beginning to bear its fruits in general

discontent. Some of the recruits have made their escape, and, on Tuesday

and Wednesday, before the steamer in which they were to go down to Pará

sailed, the disturbance was so great among them that they were kept

under lock and key. The impression seems to be general here that the

province of the Amazonas has been called upon to bear more than its

share of the burden, and that the defencelessness of the Indians in the

scattered settlements has made them especially victims. As there was no

other armed force here, several of the crew of the “Ibicuhy” were taken

to go down to Pará as guard over the unruly troops. Partly in

consequence of this, we have resolved to remain at Manaos till the end

of the month; a delay which Mr. Agassiz does not regret, as it enables

him to continue the comparison of the races which he has begun, and for

which the circumstances here are unusually favorable. In the mean time

the President has provided him with canoes and men for three separate

expeditions, on which he sends off three parties this week: Mr. Talisman

and Mr. Dexter to the Rio Negro and Rio Branco, to be absent six weeks;

Mr. Thayer and Mr. Bourget to Lake Cudajas, to be gone ten days; Mr.

James to Manacapuru, for about the same time. We feel the generosity of

this conduct the more, knowing how greatly the administration stands in

need of men and of all the resources at its command in the present

disturbed state of things.

_November 18th._—One can hardly walk in any direction out of the town

without meeting something characteristic of the people and their ways of

living. At seven o’clock, to-day, I took my morning walk through the

wood near the house to an igarapé, which is the scene of much of the

out-of-doors life here,—fishing, washing, bathing, turtle-shooting. As I

returned along the little path leading by the side of the stream, two

naked Indian boys were shooting fish with bow and arrows from a fallen

tree which jutted out into the stream. Like bronze statues they looked,

as they stood quiet and watchful, in attitudes full of grace and

strength, their bows drawn ready to let the arrow fly the moment they

should catch sight of the fish. The Indian boys are wonderfully skilful

in this sport, and also in shooting arrows through long blow-pipes

(Sarabatanas) to kill birds. This is no bad way of shooting, for the

report of the gun startles the game so effectually in these thick

forests, that after a few shots the sportsman finds the woods in his

immediate neighborhood deserted; whereas the Indian boy creeps

stealthily up to the spot from which he takes aim and discharges his

noiseless arrow with such precision, that the bird or monkey drops down

from among its companions, without their perceiving the cause of its

disappearance. While I was watching the boys, a canoe came up the

stream, paddled by women, and loaded with fruit and vegetables, on the

top of which sat two bright green parrots. Two of the women were old and

hideous, very wrinkled and withered, as these people usually are in old

age; but the third was the handsomest Indian woman I have ever seen,

with a tinge of white blood to be sure, for her skin was fairer and her

features more regular than those of the Indians generally. They were

coming from their sitio, as I learned afterwards. When they had moored

their boat to a tree, the younger woman began to unload, tucking her

petticoat about her hips, and wading to and fro with baskets of fruit

and vegetables on her head. Her hair was dressed with flowers, as is

usual with these women; however scanty their clothing, they seldom

forget this ornament.

_November 20th._—The President, Dr. Epaminondas, added yesterday to the

many kindnesses by which he has rendered our stay here doubly pleasant,

in giving an exceedingly pretty fête in honor of Mr. Agassiz. The place

chosen was the asylum for Indian children already described, well

adapted for the purpose on account of its large, airy rooms and

beautiful situation; and the invitation was given out in the name of the

“Province of the Amazonas.”[82] The day was most propitious; a rain

during the night had cooled the air, and a slightly overcast sky,

combined with the freshness of the atmosphere, gave just the conditions

most desirable for any such excursion in this climate. When we reached

the beach from which we were to leave, people were beginning to

assemble, and a number of canoes were already on their way, looking very

gay with their white awnings above and the bright dresses inside. Twenty

minutes’ row brought us to our destination. The scene was very pretty;

the path from the landing to the main house was lined with flags and

with palm-trees brought from the forest for the occasion, and the open

sides of the large rooms outside, usually working-rooms, but now fitted

up for the breakfast, were all filled in with green arches built of

trees and flowers, so that the whole space was transformed, for the time

being, into an arbor. We were received with music and conducted to the

main building, where all the guests gradually assembled, some two

hundred in number. At about one o’clock the President led the way to the

green arcades which, as yet, we had seen only from a distance. Nothing

could be more tasteful than the arrangements. The tables were placed

around a hollow square, in the centre of which was the American flag,

with the Brazilian on either side of it; while a number of other flags

draped the room and made the whole scene bright with color. The

landscape, framed in the open green arches, made so many pictures,

pretty glimpses of water and wood, with here and there a palm-thatched

roof among the trees on the opposite side of the river. A fresh breeze

blew through the open dining-room, stirring the folds of the flags, and

making a pleasant rustle in the trees, which added their music to that

of the band outside. Since we are on the Amazons, a thousand miles from

its mouth, it is worth while to say a word of the breakfast itself.

There is such an exaggerated idea of the hardships and difficulty of a

voyage on the Amazons, (at least so I infer from many remarks made to

us, not only at home, but even in Rio de Janeiro by Brazilians

themselves, when we were on the eve of departure for this journey,) that

it will hardly be believed that a public breakfast, given in Manaos,

should have all the comforts, and almost all the luxuries, of a similar

entertainment in any other part of the world. It is true, that we had

neither ices nor champagne, the former being of course difficult to

obtain in this climate; but these two exceptions were more than

compensated for by the presence of tropical fruits not to be had

elsewhere at any price,—enormous Pineapples, green and purple Abacatys

(alligator pears), crimson Pitangas, Attas (fruta do Conde), Abios,

Sapotis, Bananas of the choicest kinds and in the greatest profusion,

and a variety of Maracujas (the fruit of the passion-flower).[83] The

breakfast was gay, the toasts were numerous, the speeches animated, and

long after the Senhoras had left the table the room still echoed with

Vivas, as health followed health. At the close of the dinner there was a

little scene which struck us as very pretty; I do not know whether it is

a custom here, but, as it excited no remark, I suppose it may be. When

the gentlemen returned to the house, bringing the music with them, all

the waiters assembled in line before the door, decanter and glass in

hand, to finish the remains of the wine with a toast on their own

account. The head-waiter then stood in front of them and gave the

health, first, of the persons for whom the banquet was given, followed

by that of the President, all of which were answered with Vivas as they

filled their glasses. Then one of the gentlemen stepping forward gave,

amid shouts of laughter, the health of the head-waiter himself, which

was drank in a closing bumper with perhaps more animation than either of

the others. The afternoon closed with dancing, and at sunset the canoes

assembled and we returned to the city, all feeling, I believe, that the

festival had been a very happy one. It certainly was so for those to

whom it was intended to give pleasure, and could hardly fail to be

likewise for those who had planned and executed it. It will seem strange

to many of my readers that Sunday should be chosen for such a fête; but

here, as in many parts of continental Europe, even in Protestant

districts, Sunday is a holiday and kept as such.