work that has long held a deserved reputation for the closeness
and accuracy of its observations and the interest of its
narrative. The author, born at Leicester, England, in 1825,
accompanied the noted biologist, Alfred Russel Wallace, to
Brazil, the story of which journey is given in the work cited.
From it we extract some passages concerning the animal life of
that country, embracing the doings of the "leaf-cutting" ants
and the monkeys. Our selections begin in the suburbs of Para.]
In the gardens numbers of fine showy butterflies were seen. There were
two swallow-tailed species, similar in colors to the English _Papilio
machaon_, a white Pieris (_P. monuste_), and two or three species of
brimstone- and orange-colored butterflies, which do not belong, however,
to the same genus as our English species. In weedy places a beautiful
butterfly with eye-like spots on its wings was common, the _Junonia
lavinia_, the only Amazonian species which is at all nearly related to
our Vanessas, the Admiral and Peacock butterflies.
One day we made our first acquaintance with two of the most beautiful
productions of nature in this department,--namely, the _Helicopis
cupido_ and _endymion_. A little beyond our house one of the narrow
green lanes which I have already mentioned diverged from the mongabu
avenue, and led between enclosures overrun with a profusion of creeping
plants and glorious flowers down to a moist hollow, where there was a
public well and a picturesque nook, buried in a grove of mucaja
palm-trees. On the tree-trunks, walls, and palings grew a great quantity
of climbing Pothos plants, with large, glossy, heart-shaped leaves.
These plants were the resort of these two exquisite species, and we
captured a great number of specimens. They are of extremely delicate
texture. The wings are cream-colored; the hind pair have several
tail-like appendages, and are spangled beneath as if with silver. Their
flight is very slow and feeble; they seek the protected under surface of
the leaves, and in repose close their wings over the back, so as to
expose the brilliantly spotted under surface.
I will pass over the many orders and families of insects, and proceed at
once to the ants. These were in great numbers everywhere, but I will
mention here only two kinds. We were amazed at seeing ants an inch and a
quarter in length, and stout in proportion, marching in single file
through the thickets. These belonged to the species called _Dinoponera
grandis_. Its colonies consist of a small number of individuals, and are
established about the roots of slender trees. It is a stinging species,
but the sting is not so severe as in many of the smaller kinds. There
was nothing peculiar or attractive in the habits of this giant among the
ants. Another far more interesting species was the Sauba (_Oecodoma
cephalotes_). This ant is seen everywhere about the suburbs, marching to
and fro in broad columns. From its habit of despoiling the most valuable
cultivated trees of their foliage, it is a great scourge to the
Brazilians. In some districts it is so abundant that agriculture is
almost impossible, and everywhere complaints are heard of the terrible
pest....
In our first walks we were puzzled to account for large mounds of earth,
of a different color from the surrounding soil, which were thrown up in
the plantations and woods. Some of them were very extensive, being forty
yards in circumference, but not more than two feet in height. We soon
ascertained that these were the work of the Saubas, being the outworks
or domes which overlie and protect the entrances to their vast
subterranean galleries. On close examination I found the earth of which
they are composed to consist of very minute granules, agglomerated
with cement, and forming many rows of little ridges and turrets. The
difference in color from the superficial soil of the vicinity is owing
to their being formed of the under-soil, brought up from a considerable
depth.
It is very rarely that the ants are seen at work on these mounds; the
entrances seem to be generally closed; only now and then, when some
particular work is going on, are the galleries opened. The entrances are
small and numerous; in the larger hillocks it would require a great
amount of excavation to get at the main galleries; but I succeeded in
removing portions of the dome in smaller hillocks, and then I found that
the minor entrances converged, at the depth of about two feet, to one
broad, elaborately worked gallery or mine, which was four or five inches
in diameter.
The habit in the Sauba ant of clipping and carrying away immense
quantities of leaves has long been recorded in books on natural history.
When employed on this work their processions look like a multitude of
animated leaves on the march. In some places I found an accumulation of
such leaves, all circular pieces, about the size of a sixpence, lying on
the pathway, unattended by ants, and at some distance from the colony.
Such heaps are always found to be removed when the place is revisited
the next day. In course of time I had plenty of opportunities of seeing
them at work. They mount the trees in multitudes, the individuals being
all worker-miners. Each one places itself on the surface of a leaf, and
cuts with its sharp, scissor-like jaws, and by a sharp jerk detaches the
piece. Sometimes they let the leaf drop to the ground, where a little
heap accumulates until carried away by another relay of workers; but
generally each marches off with the piece it has operated upon, and, as
all take the same road to their colony, the path they follow becomes in
a short time smooth and bare, looking like the impression of a
cart-wheel through the herbage.
It is a most interesting sight to see the vast host of busy diminutive
laborers occupied on this work. Unfortunately, they choose cultivated
trees for their purpose. This ant is quite peculiar to tropical America,
as is the entire genus to which it belongs. It sometimes despoils the
young trees of species growing wild in its native forests; but it seems
to prefer, when within reach, plants imported from other countries, such
as the coffee- and orange-trees.... The heavily-laden workers, each
carrying its segment of leaf vertically, the lower edge secured in its
mandibles, troop up and cast their burdens on the hillock; another relay
of laborers place the leaves in position, covering them with a layer of
earthy granules, which are brought one by one from the soil beneath.
The underground abodes of this wonderful ant are known to be very
extensive. The Rev. Hamlet Clark has related that the Sauba of Rio de
Janeiro, a species closely allied to ours, has excavated a tunnel under
the bed of the river Parahyba at a place where it is as broad as the
Thames at London Bridge. At the Magoary rice-mills, near Para, these
ants once pierced the embankment of a large reservoir; the great body
of water which it contained escaped before the damage could be repaired.
In the Botanic Gardens at Para an enterprising French gardener tried all
he could think of to extirpate the Sauba. With this object he made fires
over some of the main entrances to their colonies, and blew the fumes of
sulphur down the galleries by means of bellows. I saw the smoke issue
from a great number of outlets, one of which was seventy yards distant
from the place where the bellows were used. This shows how extensively
the underground galleries are ramified.
Besides injuring and destroying young trees by despoiling them of their
foliage, the Sauba ant is troublesome to the inhabitants from its habit
of plundering the stores of provisions in houses at night, for it is
even more active at night than in the daytime. At first I was inclined
to discredit the stories of their entering habitations and carrying off
grain by grain the farinha or mandioca meal, the bread of the poorer
classes of Brazil. At length, while residing at an Indian village on the
Tapajos, I had ample proof of the fact. One night my servant woke me
three or four times before sunrise by calling out that the rats were
robbing the farinha baskets. The article at that time was scarce and
dear. I got up, listened, and found the noise very unlike that made by
rats. So I took the light and went into the store-room, which was close
to my sleeping-place. I there found a broad column of Sauba ants,
consisting of thousands of individuals, as busy as possible, passing to
and fro between the door and my precious baskets. Most of those passing
outward were laden each with a grain of farinha, which was, in some
cases, larger and many times heavier than the bodies of the carriers.
Farinha consists of grains of similar size and appearance to the tapioca
of our shops; both are products of the same root, tapioca being the
pure starch, and farinha the starch mixed with woody fibre, the latter
ingredient giving it a yellowish color. It was amusing to see some of
the dwarfs, the smallest members of their family, staggering along,
completely hidden under their load. The baskets, which were on a high
table, were entirely covered with ants, many hundreds of whom were
employed in snipping the dry leaves which served as lining. This
produced the rustling sound which had at first disturbed us. My servant
told me that they would carry off the whole contents of the two baskets
(about two bushels) in the course of the night if they were not driven
off, so we tried to exterminate them by killing them with our wooden
clogs. It was impossible, however, to prevent fresh hosts coming in as
fast as we killed their companions. They returned the next night, and I
was then obliged to lay trains of gun-powder along their line and blow
them up. This, repeated many times, at last seemed to intimidate them,
for we were free from their visits during the remainder of my residence
at the place.
What they did with the hard dry grains of mandioca I was never able to
ascertain, and cannot even conjecture. The meal contains no gluten, and
therefore would be useless as cement. It contains only a small relative
portion of starch, and, when mixed with water, it separates and
falls away like so much earthy matter. It may serve as food for the
subterranean workers. But the young or larvae of ants are usually fed
by juices secreted by the worker-nurses.
[Leaving the ants with this example of their curious habits, we
shall proceed with the author's description of Brazilian
monkeys.]
I have already mentioned that monkeys were rare in the immediate
vicinity of Para. I met with three species only in the forest near the
city; they are shy animals and avoid the neighborhood 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 convey 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 Cebidae, 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 neighborhood 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 squirrels; it does not ascend to the slender branches, or take
those wonderful flying leaps which the Cebidae 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 round 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 Para _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 color, 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 backward when any one attempts to coax it. It is
always in a querulous humor, uttering a twittering, complaining noise;
its dark, watchful eyes, expressive of distrust, 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 on 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 sixty
degrees; 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. Anatomists who have
dissected species of Midas tell us that the brain is of a very low type
as far as the absence of convolutions goes, the surface being as smooth
as that of a squirrel's. I should conclude at once that this character
is an unsafe guide in judging of the mental qualities of these animals;
in mobility of expression of countenance, intelligence, and general
manners these small monkeys resemble the higher apes far more than they
do any rodent animal with which I am acquainted.
On the upper Amazon 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
every one; its greatest pleasure seemed 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 sat down and climbed
up to my shoulder; 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 Geoffrey 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 Para, 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
while walking about the Para 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 gray 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....
The only monkeys I observed at Cameta were the Couxio (_Pithecia
satanas_), a large species, clothed with long brownish black hair, and
the tiny _Midas argentatus_. The Couxio has a thick bushy tail; the hair
of the head sits on it like a cap, and looks as if it had been carefully
combed. It inhabits only the most retired parts of the forest, on the
terra firma, and I observed nothing of its habits. The little _Midas
argentatus_ is one of the rarest of the American monkeys. I have not
heard of its being found anywhere except near Cameta. I once saw three
individuals together running along a branch in a cacao grove near
Cameta; they looked like white kittens: in their motions they resembled
precisely the _Midas ursulus_ already described.
I saw afterwards a pet animal of this species, and heard that there were
many so kept, and that they were esteemed as choice treasures. The one I
saw was full grown, but it measured only seven inches in length of body.
It was covered with long white, silky hairs, the tail was blackish, and
the face nearly naked and flesh-colored. It was a most timid and
sensitive little thing. The woman who owned it carried it constantly in
her bosom, and no money would induce her to part with her pet. She
called it Mico. It fed from her mouth and allowed her to fondle it
freely, but the nervous little creature would not permit strangers to
touch it. If any one attempted to do so it shrank back, the whole body
trembling with fear, and its teeth chattered, while it uttered its
tremulous frightened tones. The expression of its features was like that
of its more robust brother _Midas ursulus_; the eyes, which were black,
were full of curiosity and mistrust, and it always kept them fixed on
the person who attempted to advance towards it.
In the orange groves and other parts humming-birds were plentiful, but I
did not notice more than three species. I saw a little pigmy belonging
to the genus Phaethornis one day in the act of washing itself in a brook.
It was perched on a thin branch, whose end was under water. It dipped
itself, then fluttered its wings and pruned its feathers, and seemed
thoroughly to enjoy itself alone in the shady nook which it had
chosen,--a place overshadowed by broad leaves of ferns and Heliconiae. I
thought as I watched it that there was no need for poets to invent elves
and gnomes while nature furnishes us with such marvellous little sprites
ready to hand.
THE MONARCHS OF THE ANDES.
JAMES ORTON.
[The story of the Andes and the great river to which this
mountain-chain gives birth has never been better told than in
Orton's "The Andes and the Amazon," from which we select the
following description of Chimborazo and its mountain neighbors.
James Orton, born at Seneca Falls, New York, in 1830, became a
Congregationalist clergyman, and in 1867 headed an exploring
expedition to South America. In 1873 he sought that continent
again, and died on Lake Titicaca, September 24, 1877.]
Coming up from Peru through the cinchona forests of Loja, and over the
barren hills of Assuay, the traveller reaches Riobamba seated on the
threshold of magnificence,--like Damascus, an oasis in a sandy plain,
but, unlike the Queen of the East, surrounded with a splendid retinue of
snowy peaks that look like icebergs floating in a sea of clouds.
On our left is the most sublime spectacle in the New World. It is a
majestic pile of snow, its clear outline on the deep blue sky describing
the profile of a lion in repose. At noon the vertical sun, and the
profusion of light reflected from the glittering surface, will not allow
a shadow to be cast on any part, so that you can easily fancy the figure
is cut out of a mountain of spotless marble. This is Chimborazo,--yet
not the whole of it,--you see but a third of the great giant. His feet
are as eternally green as his head is everlastingly white; but they are
far away beneath the banana and cocoanut palms of the Pacific coast.
Rousseau was disappointed when he first saw the sea; and the first
glimpse of Niagara often fails to meet one's expectations. But
Chimborazo is sure of a worshipper the moment its overwhelming grandeur
breaks upon the traveller. You feel that you are in the presence-chamber
of the monarch of the Andes. There is sublimity in his kingly look of
which the ocean might be proud.
"All that expands the spirit, yet appeals,
Gathers around this summit, as if to show
How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below."
[Illustration: THE MONARCHS OF THE ANDES]
Well do we remember our disappointment as we stood before that wonder of
the world,--St. Peter's. We mounted the pyramid of steps and looked up,
but were not overcome by the magnificence. We read in our guide-book
that the edifice covers eight acres, and to the tip-top of the cross is
almost five hundred feet; that it took three hundred and fifty years and
twelve successive artists to finish it and an expenditure of fifty
million dollars, and now costs thirty thousand dollars per annum to keep
it in repair, still we do not appreciate its greatness. We pushed aside
the curtain and walked in,--walked a day's journey across the transept
and up and down the everlasting nave, and yet continued heterodox. We
tried hard to believe it was very vast and sublime, and we knew we ought
to feel its grandeur, but somehow we did not. Then we sat down by the
Holy of Holies, and there we were startled into a better judgment by the
astounding fact that the Cathedral of St. Paul--the largest edifice in
Great Britain--could stand upright, spire, dome, body, and all, inside
of St. Peter's! that the letters of the inscription which run round the
_base_ of the dome, though apparently but an inch, are in reality six
feet high! Then for the first time the scales fell from our eyes, the
giant building began to grow; higher and higher still it rose, longer
and deeper it expanded, yet in perfect proportions; the colossal
structure, now a living temple, put on its beautiful garments and the
robe of majesty. And that dome! the longer we looked at it the vaster
it grew, till finally it seemed to be a temple not made with hands; the
spacious canopy became the firmament; the mosaic figures of cherubim and
seraphim were endowed with life; and as we fixed our eyes on the zenith
where the Almighty is represented in glory, we thought we had the vision
of Stephen. Long we gazed upward into this heaven of man's creation, and
gazed again till we were lost in wonder.