PARÁ
Religious Holidays — Marmoset Monkeys — Serpents — Insects
Before leaving the subject of Pará, where I resided, as already stated,
in all eighteen months, it will be necessary to give a more detailed
account of several matters connected with the customs of the people and
the Natural History of the neighbourhood, which have hitherto been only
briefly mentioned. I reserve an account of the trade and improved
condition of Pará in 1859 for the end of this narrative.
During the first few weeks of our stay, many of those religious
festivals took place, which occupied so large a share of the time and
thoughts of the people. These were splendid affairs, wherein
artistically-arranged processions through the streets, accompanied by
thousands of people, military displays, the clatter of fireworks, and
the clang of military music, were super-added to pompous religious
services in the churches. To those who had witnessed similar ceremonies
in the Southern countries of Europe, there would be nothing remarkable
perhaps in these doings, except their taking place amidst the
splendours of tropical nature; but to me they were full of novelty, and
were besides interesting as exhibiting much that was peculiar in the
manners of the people. The festivals celebrate either the anniversaries
of events concerning saints, or those of the more important
transactions in the life of Christ. To them have been added, since the
Independence, many gala days connected with the events in the Brazilian
national history; but these have all a semi-religious character. The
holidays had become so numerous, and interfered so much with trade and
industry towards the year 1852, that the Brazilian Government was
obliged to reduce them; obtaining the necessary permission from Rome to
abolish several which were of minor importance. Many of those which
have been retained are declining in importance since the introduction
of railways and steamboats, and the increased devotion of the people to
commerce; at the time of our arrival, however, they were in full glory.
The way they were managed was in this fashion. A general manager or
“Juiz” for each festival was elected by lot every year in the vestry of
the church, and to him were handed over all the paraphernalia
pertaining to the particular festival which he was chosen to manage;
the image of the saint, the banners, silver crowns and so forth. He
then employed a number of people to go the round of the parish, and
collect alms towards defraying the expenses. It was considered that the
greater the amount of money spent in wax candles, fireworks, music and
feasting, the greater the honour done to the saint. If the Juiz was a
rich man, he seldom sent out alms-gatherers, but celebrated the whole
affair at his own expense, which was sometimes to the extent of several
hundred pounds. Each festival lasted nine days (a _novena_), and in
many cases refreshments for the public were provided every evening. In
the smaller towns a ball took place two or three evenings during the
novena, and on the last day there was a grand dinner. The priest, of
course, had to be paid very liberally, especially for the sermon
delivered on the Saint’s-day or termination of the festival, sermons
being extra duty in Brazil.
There was much difference as to the accessories of these festivals
between the interior towns and villages and the capital; but little or
no work was done anywhere whilst they lasted, and they tended much to
demoralise the people. It was soon perceived that religion is rather
the amusement of the Paráenses, than their serious exercise. The ideas
of the majority evidently do not reach beyond the belief that all the
proceedings are, in each case, in honour of the particular wooden image
enshrined at the church. The uneducated Portuguese immigrants seemed to
me to have very degrading notions of religion. I have often travelled
in the company of these shining examples of European enlightenment.
They generally carry with them, wherever they go, a small image of some
favourite saint in their trunks, and when a squall or any other danger
arises, their first impulse is to rush to the cabin, take out the image
and clasp it to their lips, whilst uttering a prayer for protection.
The negroes and mulattos are similar in this respect to the low
Portuguese, but I think they show a purer devotional feeling; and in
conversation, I have always found them to be more rational in religious
views than the lower orders of Portuguese. As to the Indians; with the
exception of the more civilised families residing near the large towns,
they exhibit no religious sentiment at all. They have their own patron
saint, St. Thomé, and celebrate his anniversary in the orthodox way,
for they are fond of observing all the formalities; but they think the
feasting to be of equal importance with the church ceremonies. At some
of the festivals, masquerading forms a large part of the proceedings,
and then the Indians really shine. They get up capital imitations of
wild animals, dress themselves to represent the Caypor and other
fabulous creatures of the forest, and act their parts throughout with
great cleverness. When St. Thome’s festival takes place, every employer
of Indians knows that all his men will get drunk. The Indian, generally
too shy to ask directly for cashaca (rum), is then very bold; he asks
for a frasco at once (two-and-a-half bottles), and says, if
interrogated, that he is going to fuddle in honour of St. Thomé.
In the city of Pará, the provincial government assists to augment the
splendour of the religious holidays. The processions which traverse the
principal streets consist, in the first place, of the image of the
saint, and those of several other subordinate ones belonging to the
same church; these are borne on the shoulders of respectable
householders, who volunteer for the purpose: sometimes you will see
your neighbour the grocer or the carpenter groaning under the load. The
priest and his crowd of attendants precede the images, arrayed in
embroidered robes, and protected by magnificent sunshades—no useless
ornament here, for the heat is very great when the sun is not obscured.
On each side of the long line the citizens walk, clad in crimson silk
cloaks and holding each a large lighted wax candle. Behind follows a
regiment or two of foot soldiers with their bands of music, and last of
all the crowd: the coloured people being cleanly dressed and preserving
a grave demeanour. The women are always in great force, their luxuriant
black hair decorated with jasmines, white orchids and other tropical
flowers. They are dressed in their usual holiday attire, gauze chemises
and black silk petticoats; their necks are adorned with links of gold
beads, which when they are slaves are generally the property of their
mistresses, who love thus to display their wealth.
At night, when festivals are going on in the grassy squares around the
suburban churches, there is really much to admire. A great deal that is
peculiar in the land and the life of its inhabitants can be seen best
at those times. The cheerful white church is brilliantly lighted up,
and the music, not of a very solemn description, peals forth from the
open windows and doors. Numbers of young gaudily-dressed negresses line
the path to the church doors with stands of liqueurs, sweetmeats, and
cigarettes, which they sell to the outsiders. A short distance off is
heard the rattle of dice-boxes and roulette at the open-air
gambling-stalls. When the festival happens on moonlit nights, the whole
scene is very striking to a newcomer. Around the square are groups of
tall palm trees, and beyond it, over the illuminated houses, appear the
thick groves of mangoes near the suburban avenues, from which comes the
perpetual ringing din of insect life. The soft tropical moonlight lends
a wonderful charm to the whole. The inhabitants are all out, dressed in
their best. The upper classes, who come to enjoy the fine evening and
the general cheerfulness, are seated on chairs around the doors of
friendly houses. There is no boisterous conviviality, but a quiet
enjoyment seems to be felt everywhere, and a gentle courtesy rules
amongst all classes and colours. I have seen a splendidly-dressed
colonel, from the President’s palace, walk up to a mulatto, and
politely ask his permission to take a light from his cigar. When the
service is over, the church bells are set ringing, a shower of rockets
mounts upwards, the bands strike up, and parties of coloured people in
the booths begin their dances. About ten o’clock the Brazilian national
air is played, and all disperse quietly and soberly to their homes.
At the festival of Corpus Christi, there was a very pretty arrangement.
The large green square of the Trinidade was lighted up all round with
bonfires. On one side a fine pavilion was erected, the upright posts
consisting of real fan-leaved palm trees—the Mauritia flexuosa, which
had been brought from the forest, stems and heads entire, and fixed in
the ground. The booth was illuminated with coloured lamps, and lined
with red and white cloth. In it were seated the ladies, not all of pure
Caucasian blood, but presenting a fine sample of Pará beauty and
fashion.
The grandest of all these festivals is that held in honour of Our Lady
of Nazareth: it is, I believe, peculiar to Pará. As I have said before,
it falls in the second quarter of the moon, about the middle of the dry
season—that is, in October or November—and lasts, like the others, nine
days. On the first day, a very extensive procession takes place,
starting from the Cathedral, whither the image of the saint had been
conveyed some days previous, and terminating at the chapel or
hermitage, as it is called, of the saint at Nazareth, a distance of
more than two miles. The whole population turns out on this occasion.
All the soldiers, both of the line and the National Guard, take part in
it, each battalion accompanied by its band of music. The civil
authorities, also, with the President at their head, and the principal
citizens, including many of the foreign residents, join in the line.
The boat of the shipwrecked Portuguese vessel is carried after the
saint on the shoulders of officers or men of the Brazilian navy, and
along with it are borne the other symbols of the miracles which Our
Lady is supposed to have performed. The procession starts soon after
the sun’s heat begins to moderate—that is, about half-past four o’clock
in the afternoon. When the image is deposited in the chapel the
festival is considered to be inaugurated, and the village every evening
becomes the resort of the pleasure-loving population, the holiday
portion of the programme being preceded, of course, by a religious
service in the chapel. The aspect of the place is then that of a fair,
without the humour and fun, but, at the same time, without the noise
and coarseness of similar holidays in England. Large rooms are set
apart for panoramic and other exhibitions, to which the public is
admitted gratis. In the course of each evening, large displays of
fireworks take place, all arranged according to a published programme
of the festival.
The various ceremonies which take place during Lent seemed to me the
most impressive, and some of them were exceedingly well- arranged. The
people, both performers and spectators, conduct themselves with more
gravity on these occasions, and there is no holiday-making.
Performances, representing the last events in the life of Christ, are
enacted in the churches or streets in such a way as to remind one of
the old miracle plays or mysteries. A few days before Good Friday, a
torchlight procession takes place by night from one church to another,
in which is carried a large wooden image of Christ bent under the
weight of the cross. The chief members of the government assist, and
the whole slowly moves to the sound of muffled drums. A double
procession is managed a few days afterwards. The image of St. Mary is
carried in one direction, and that of the Saviour in another. The two
images meet in the middle of one of the most beautiful of the churches,
which is previously filled to excess with the multitudes anxious to
witness the affecting meeting of mother and son a few days before the
crucifixion. The images are brought face to face in the middle of the
church, the crowd falls prostrate, and a lachrymose sermon is delivered
from the pulpit. The whole thing, as well as many other spectacles
arranged during the few succeeding days, is highly theatrical and well
calculated to excite the religious emotions of the people, although,
perhaps, only temporarily. On Good Friday the bells do not ring, all
musical sounds are interdicted, and the hours, night and day, are
announced by the dismal noise of wooden clappers, wielded by negroes
stationed near the different churches. A sermon is delivered in each
church. In the middle of it, a scroll is suddenly unfolded from the
pulpit, upon which is an exaggerated picture of the bleeding Christ.
This act is accompanied by loud groans, which come from stout-lunged
individuals concealed in the vestry and engaged for the purpose. The
priest becomes greatly excited, and actually sheds tears. On one of
these occasions I squeezed myself into the crowd, and watched the
effect of the spectacle on the audience. Old Portuguese men and
Brazilian women seemed very much affected—sobbing, beating their
breasts, and telling their beads. The negroes themselves behaved with
great propriety, but seemed moved more particularly by the pomp, the
gilding, the dresses, and the general display. Young Brazilians
laughed. Several aborigines were there, coolly looking on. One old
Indian, who was standing near me, said, in a derisive manner, when the
sermon was over: “It’s all very good; better it could not be” (Está
todo bom; melhor nao pude ser).
The negroes of Pará are very devout. They have built, by slow degrees,
as I was told, a fine church by their own unaided exertions. It is
called Nossa Senhora do Rosario, or Our Lady of the Rosary. During the
first weeks of our residence at Pará, I frequently observed a line of
negroes and negresses, late at night, marching along the streets,
singing a chorus. Each carried on his or her head a quantity of
building materials—stones, bricks, mortar, or planks. I found they were
chiefly slaves, who, after their hard day’s work, were contributing a
little towards the construction of their church. The materials had all
been purchased by their own savings. The interior was finished about a
year afterwards, and is decorated, I thought, quite as superbly as the
other churches which were constructed, with far larger means, by the
old religious orders more than a century ago. Annually, the negroes
celebrate the festival of Nossa Senhora do Rosario, and generally make
it a complete success.
I will now add a few more notes which I have accumulated on the subject
of the natural history, and then we shall have done, for the present,
with Pará and its neighbourhood.
I have already mentioned that monkeys were rare in the immediate
vicinity of Pará. I met with only three species in the forest near the
city; they are shy animals, and avoid the neighbourhood of towns, where
they are subject to much persecution by the inhabitants, who kill them
for food. The only kind which I saw frequently was the little Midas
ursulus, one of the Marmosets, a family peculiar to tropical America,
and differing in many essential points of structure and habits from all
other apes. They are small in size, and more like squirrels than true
monkeys in their manner of climbing. The nails, except those of the
hind thumbs, are long and claw-shaped like those of squirrels, and the
thumbs of the fore extremities, or hands, are not opposable to the
other fingers. I do not mean to imply that they have a near
relationship to squirrels, which belong to the Rodents, an inferior
order of mammals; their resemblance to those animals is merely a
superficial one. They have two molar teeth less in each jaw than the
Cebidæ, the other family of American monkeys; they agree with them,
however, in the sideway position of the nostrils, a character which
distinguishes both from all the monkeys of the old world. The body is
long and slender, clothed with soft hairs, and the tail, which is
nearly twice the length of the trunk, is not prehensile. The hind limbs
are much larger in volume than the anterior pair. The Midas ursulus is
never seen in large flocks; three or four is the greatest number
observed together. It seems to be less afraid of the neighbourhood of
man than any other monkey. I sometimes saw it in the woods which border
the suburban streets, and once I espied two individuals in a thicket
behind the English consul’s house at Nazareth. Its mode of progression
along the main boughs of the lofty trees is like that of the squirrel;
it does not ascend to the slender branches, or take those wonderful
flying leaps which the Cebidæ do, whose prehensile tails and flexible
hands fit them for such headlong travelling. It confines itself to the
larger boughs and trunks of trees, the long nails being of great
assistance to the creature, enabling it to cling securely to the bark,
and it is often seen passing rapidly around the perpendicular
cylindrical trunks. It is a quick, restless, timid little creature, and
has a great share of curiosity, for when a person passes by under the
trees along which a flock is running, they always stop for a few
moments to have a stare at the intruder. In Pará, Midas ursulus is
often seen in a tame state in the houses of the inhabitants. When full
grown it is about nine inches long, independently of the tail, which
measures fifteen inches. The fur is thick, and black in colour, with
the exception of a reddish-brown streak down the middle of the back.
When first taken, or when kept tied up, it is very timid and irritable.
It will not allow itself to be approached, but keeps retreating
backwards when any one attempts to coax it. It is always in a querulous
humour, uttering a twittering, complaining noise; its dark, watchful
eyes are expressive of distrust, and observant of every movement which
takes place near it. When treated kindly, however, as it generally is
in the houses of the natives, it becomes very tame and familiar. I once
saw one as playful as a kitten, running about the house after the negro
children, who fondled it to their hearts’ content. It acted somewhat
differently towards strangers, and seemed not to like them to sit in
the hammock which was slung in the room, leaping up, trying to bite,
and otherwise annoying them. It is generally fed sweet fruits, such as
the banana; but it is also fond of insects, especially soft-bodied
spiders and grasshoppers, which it will snap up with eagerness when
within reach. The expression of countenance in these small monkeys is
intelligent and pleasing. This is partly owing to the open facial
angle, which is given as one of 60°; but the quick movements of the
head, and the way they have of inclining it to one side when their
curiosity is excited, contribute very much to give them a knowing
expression.
On the Upper Amazons I once saw a tame individual of the Midas
leoninus, a species first described by Humboldt, which was still more
playful and intelligent than the one just described. This rare and
beautiful little monkey is only seven inches in length, exclusive of
the tail. It is named leoninus on account of the long brown mane which
depends from the neck, and which gives it very much the appearance of a
diminutive lion. In the house where it was kept, it was familiar with
everyone; its greatest pleasure seeming to be to climb about the bodies
of different persons who entered. The first time I went in, it ran
across the room straightway to the chair on which I had sat down, and
climbed up to my shoulder; having arrived there, it turned round and
looked into my face, showing its little teeth and chattering, as though
it would say, “Well, and how do _you_ do?” It showed more affection
towards its master than towards strangers, and would climb up to his
head a dozen times in the course of an hour, making a great show every
time of searching there for certain animalcula. Isidore Geoffroy St.
Hilaire relates of a species of this genus, that it distinguished
between different objects depicted on an engraving. M. Audouin showed
it the portraits of a cat and a wasp; at these it became much
terrified; whereas, at the sight of a figure of a grasshopper or
beetle, it precipitated itself on the picture, as if to seize the
objects there represented.
Although monkeys are now rare in a wild state near Pará, a great number
may be seen semi-domesticated in the city. The Brazilians are fond of
pet animals. Monkeys, however, have not been known to breed in
captivity in this country. I counted, in a short time, thirteen
different species, whilst walking about the Pará streets, either at the
doors or windows of houses, or in the native canoes. Two of them I did
not meet with afterwards in any other part of the country. One of these
was the well-known Hapale Jacchus, a little creature resembling a
kitten, banded with black and grey all over the body and tail, and
having a fringe of long white hairs surrounding the ears. It was seated
on the shoulder of a young mulatto girl, as she was walking along the
street, and I was told had been captured in the island of Marajo. The
other was a species of Cebus, with a remarkably large head. It had
ruddy-brown fur, paler on the face, but presenting a blackish tuft on
the top of the forehead.
In the wet season serpents are common in the neighbourhood of Pará. One
morning, in April, 1849, after a night of deluging rain, the
lamplighter, on his rounds to extinguish the lamps, woke me up to show
me a boa-constrictor he had just killed in the Rua St. Antonio, not far
from my door. He had cut it nearly in two with a large knife, as it was
making its way down the sandy street. Sometimes the native hunters
capture boa- constrictors alive in the forest near the city. We bought
one which had been taken in this way, and kept it for some time in a
large box under our verandah. This is not, however, the largest or most
formidable serpent found in the Amazons region. It is far inferior, in
these respects, to the hideous Sucurujú, or Water Boa (Eunectes
murinus), which sometimes attacks man; but of this I shall have to give
an account in a subsequent chapter.
It frequently happened, in passing through the thickets, that a snake
would fall from the boughs close to me. Once for a few moments I got
completely entangled in the folds of one, a wonderfully slender kind,
being nearly six feet in length, and not more than half an inch in
diameter at its broadest part. It was a species of Dryophis. The
majority of the snakes seen were innocuous. One day, however, I trod on
the tail of a young serpent belonging to a very poisonous kind, the
Jararaca (Craspedocephalus atrox). It turned round and bit my trousers;
and a young Indian lad, who was behind me, dexterously cut it through
with his knife before it had time to free itself. In some seasons
snakes are very abundant, and it often struck me as strange that
accidents did not occur more frequently than was the case.
Amphisbæna.
Amongst the most curious snakes found here were the Amphisbænæ, a genus
allied to the slow-worm of Europe. Several species occur at Pará. Those
brought to me were generally not much more than a foot in length. They
are of cylindrical shape, having, properly speaking, no neck, and the
blunt tail which is only about an inch in length, is of the same shape
as the head. This peculiar form, added to their habit of wriggling
backwards as well as forwards, has given rise to the fable that they
have two heads, one at each extremity. They are extremely sluggish in
their motions, and are clothed with scales that have the form of small
imbedded plates arranged in rings round the body. The eye is so small
as to be scarcely perceptible. They live habitually in the subterranean
chambers of the Saüba ant; only coming out of their abodes occasionally
in the night time. The natives call the Amphisbæna the “Mai das
Saübas,” or Mother of the Saübas, and believe it to be poisonous,
although it is perfectly harmless. It is one of the many curious
animals which have become the subject of mythical stories with the
natives. They say the ants treat it with great affection, and that if
the snake be taken away from a nest, the Saübas will forsake the spot.
I once took one quite whole out of the body of a young Jararaca, the
poisonous species already alluded to, whose body was so distended with
its contents that the skin was stretched out to a film over the
contained Amphisbæna. I was, unfortunately, not able to ascertain the
exact relation which subsists between these curious snakes and the
Saüba ants. I believe however, they feed upon the Saübas, for I once
found remains of ants in the stomach of one of them. Their motions are
quite peculiar; the undilatable jaws, small eyes and curious plated
integument also distinguish them from other snakes. These properties
have evidently some relation to their residence in the subterranean
abodes of ants. It is now well ascertained by naturalists, that some of
the most anomalous forms amongst Coleopterous insects are those which
live solely in the nests of ants, and it is curious that an abnormal
form of snakes should also be found in the society of these insects.
The neighbourhood of Pará is rich in insects. I do not speak of the
number of individuals, which is probably less than one meets with,
excepting ants and termites, in summer days in temperate latitudes; but
the variety, or in other words, the number of species, is very great.
It will convey some idea of the diversity of butterflies when I mention
that about 700 species of that tribe are found within an hour’s walk of
the town; whilst the total number found in the British Islands does not
exceed 66, and the whole of Europe supports only 321. Some of the most
showy species, such as the swallow-tailed kinds, Papilio Polycaon,
Thoas, Torquatus, and others, are seen flying about the streets and
gardens; sometimes they come through the open windows, attracted by
flowers in the apartments. Those species of Papilio which are most
characteristic of the country, so conspicuous in their velvety-black,
green, and rose-coloured hues, which Linnæus, in pursuance of his
elegant system of nomenclature—naming the different kinds after the
heroes of Greek mythology—called Trojans, never leave the shades of the
forest. The splendid metallic blue Morphos, some of which measure seven
inches in expanse, are generally confined to the shady alleys of the
forest. They sometimes come forth into the broad sunlight. When we
first went to look at our new residence in Nazareth, a Morpho Menelaus,
one of the most beautiful kinds, was seen flapping its huge wings like
a bird along the verandah. This species, however, although much
admired, looks dull in colour by the side of its congener, the Morpho
Rhetenor, whose wings, on the upper face, are of quite a dazzling
lustre. Rhetenor usually prefers the broad sunny roads in the forest,
and is an almost unattainable prize, on account of its lofty flight,
for it very rarely descends nearer the ground than about twenty feet.
When it comes sailing along, it occasionally flaps its wings, and then
the blue surface flashes in the sunlight, so that it is visible a
quarter of a mile off. There is another species of this genus, of a
satiny-white hue, the Morpho Uraneis; this is equally difficult to
obtain; the male only has the satiny lustre, the female being of a
pale-lavender colour. It is in the height of the dry season that the
greatest number and variety of butterflies are found in the woods;
especially when a shower falls at intervals of a few days. An infinite
number of curious and rare species may then be taken, most diversified
in habits, mode of flight, colours, and markings: some yellow, others
bright red, green, purple, and blue, and many bordered or spangled with
metallic lines and spots of a silvery or golden lustre. Some have wings
transparent as glass; one of these clear wings is especially beautiful,
namely, the Hetaira Esmeralda. It has one spot only of opaque colouring
on its wings, which is of a violet and rose hue; this is the only part
visible when the insect is flying low over dead leaves in the gloomy
shades where alone it is found, and it then looks like a wandering
petal of a flower.
Acrosoma arcuatum.
Bees and wasps are not especially numerous near Pará, and I will
reserve an account of their habits for a future chapter. Many species
of Mygale, those monstrous hairy spiders, half a foot in expanse, which
attract the attention so much in museums, are found in sandy places at
Nazareth. The different kinds have the most diversified habits. Some
construct, amongst the tiles or thatch of houses, dens of closely-woven
web, which, in its texture, very much resembles fine muslin; these are
often seen crawling over the walls of apartments. Others build similar
nests in trees, and are known to attack birds. One very robust fellow,
the Mygale Blondii, burrows into the earth, forming a broad, slanting
gallery, about two feet long, the sides of which he lines beautifully
with silk. He is nocturnal in his habits. Just before sunset he may be
seen keeping watch within the mouth of his tunnel, disappearing
suddenly when he hears a heavy foot-tread near his hiding place. The
number of spiders ornamented with showy colours was somewhat
remarkable. Some double themselves up at the base of leaf-stalks, so as
to resemble flower-buds, and thus deceive the insects on which they
prey. The most extraordinary-looking spider was a species of Acrosoma,
which had two curved bronze-coloured spines, an inch and a half in
length, proceeding from the tip of its abdomen. It spins a large web,
the monstrous appendages being apparently no impediment to it in its
work; but what their use can be I am unable to divine.
Coleoptera, or beetles, at first seemed to be very scarce. This
apparent scarcity has been noticed in other equatorial countries, and
arises, probably, from the great heat of the sun not permitting them to
exist in exposed situations, where they form such conspicuous objects
in Europe. Many hundred species of the different families can be found
when they are patiently searched for in the shady places to which they
are confined. It is vain to look for the Geodephaga, or carnivorous
beetles, under stones, or anywhere, indeed, in open, sunny places. The
terrestrial forms of this interesting family, which abound in England
and temperate countries generally, are scarce in the neighbourhood of
Pará; in fact, I met with only four or five species; on the other hand,
the purely arboreal kinds were rather numerous. The contrary of this
happens in northern latitudes, where the great majority of the species
and genera are exclusively terrestrial. The arboreal forms are
distinguished by the structure of the feet, which have broad spongy
soles and toothed claws, enabling them to climb over and cling to
branches and leaves. The remarkable scarcity of ground beetles is,
doubtless, attributable to the number of ants and Termites which people
every inch of surface in all shady places, and which would most likely
destroy the larvæ of Coleoptera. Moreover, these active creatures have
the same functions as Coleoptera, and thus render their existence
unnecessary. The large proportion of climbing forms of carnivorous
beetles is an interesting fact, because it affords another instance of
the arboreal character which animal forms tend to assume in equinoctial
America, a circumstance which points to the slow adaptation of the
fauna to a forest-clad country throughout an immense lapse of
geological time.