"'Tis where the streams divide, to swell the floodsOf the two mighty rivers of our globe;Where gushing brooklets in their narrow bedsLie hid, o'ershadow'd by th' eternal woods,And trickle onwards,—these to increase the waveOf turbid Orinooko; those, by a longer courseIn the Black River's isle-strewn bed, flow downTo mighty Amazon, the river-king,And, mingled with his all-engulfing stream,Go to do battle with proud Ocean's self,And drive him back even from his own domain.There is an Indian village; all around,The dark, eternal, boundless forest spreadsIts varied foliage. Stately palm-trees riseOn every side, and numerous trees unknownSave by strange names uncouth to English ears.Here I dwelt awhile the one white manAmong perhaps two hundred living souls.They pass a peaceful and contented life,These black-hair'd, red-skinn'd, handsome, half-wild men.Directed by the sons of Old Castile,They keep their village and their houses clean;And on the eve before the Sabbath-dayAssemble all at summons of a bell,To sweep within and all around their church,In which next morn they meet, all neatly dress'd,To pray as they've been taught unto their God.It was a pleasing sight, that Sabbath morn,Reminding me of distant, dear-loved home.On one side knelt the men, their simple dressA shirt and trousers of coarse cotton cloth:On the other side were women and young girls,Their glossy tresses braided with much taste,And on their necks all wore a kerchief gay,And some a knot of riband in their hair.How like they look'd, save in their dusky skin,To a fair group of English village maids!Yet far superior in their graceful forms;For their free growth no straps or bands impede,But simple food, free air, and daily bathsAnd exercise, give all that Nature asksTo mould a beautiful and healthy frame.Each day some labour calls them. Now they goTo fell the forest's pride, or in canoeWith hook, and spear, and arrow, to catch fish;Or seek the various products of the wood,To make their baskets or their hanging beds.The women dig the mandiocca root,And with much labour make of it their bread.These plant the young shoots in the fertile earth—Earth all untill'd, to which the plough, or spade,Or rake, or harrow, are alike unknown.The young girls carry water on their headsIn well-formed pitchers, just like Cambrian maids;And all each morn and eve wash in the stream,And sport like mermaids in the sparkling wave.The village is laid out with taste and skill:In the midst a spacious square, where stands the church,And narrow streets diverging all around.Between the houses, filling up each space,The broad, green-leaved, luxuriant plantain grows,Bearing huge bunches of most wholesome fruit;The orange too is there, and grateful lime;The Inga pendent hangs its yard-long pods(Whose flowers attract the fairy humming-birds);The guava, and the juicy, sweet cashew,And a most graceful palm, which bears a fruitIn bright red clusters, much esteem'd for food;And there are many more which IndiansEsteem, and which have only Indian names.The houses are of posts fill'd up with mud,Smooth'd, and wash'd over with a pure white clay;A palm-tree's spreading leaves supply a thatchImpervious to the winter's storms and rain.No nail secures the beams or rafters, allIs from the forest, whose lithe, pendent cordsBind them into a firm enduring mass.From the tough fibre of a fan-palm's leafThey twist a cord to make their hammock-bed,Their bow-string, line, and net for catching fish.Their food is simple—fish and cassava-bread,With various fruits, and sometimes forest game,All season'd with hot, pungent, fiery peppers.Sauces and seasonings too, and drinks they have,Made from the mandiocca's poisonous juice;And but one foreign luxury, which is salt.Salt here is money: daily they bring to meCassava cakes, or fish, or ripe bananas,Or birds or insects, fowls or turtles' eggs,And still they ask for salt. Two teacups-fullBuy a large basket of cassava cakes,A great bunch of bananas, or a fowl.One day they made a festa, and, just likeOur villagers at home, they drank much beer,(Beer made from roasted mandiocca cakes,)Call'd here "shirac," by others "caxiri,"But just like beer in flavour and effect;And then they talked much, shouted and sang,And men and maids all danced in a ringWith much delight, like children at their play.For music they've small drums and reed-made fifes.And vocal chants, monotonous and shrill,To which they'll dance for hours without fatigue.The children of small growth are naked, andThe boys and men wear but a narrow cloth.How I delight to see those naked boys!Their well-form'd limbs, their bright, smooth, red-brown skin,And every motion full of grace and health;And as they run, and race, and shout, and leap,Or swim and dive beneath the rapid stream,Or, all bareheaded in the noonday sun,Creep stealthily, with blowpipe or with bow,To shoot small birds or swiftly gliding fish,I pity English boys; their active limbsCramp'd and confined in tightly-fitting clothes;Their toes distorted by the shoemaker,Their foreheads aching under heavy hats,And all their frame by luxury enervate.But how much more I pity English maids,Their waist, and chest, and bosom all confinedBy that vile torturing instrument called stays!And thus these people pass their simple lives.They are a peaceful race; few serious crimesAre known among them; they nor rob nor murder,And all the complicated villaniesOf man called civilised are here unknown.Yet think not I would place, as some would do,The civilised below the savage man;Or wish that we could retrograde, and liveAs did our forefathers ere Cæsar came.'Tis true the miseries, the wants and woes,The poverty, the crimes, the broken hearts,The intense mental agonies that leadSome men to self-destruction, someTo end their days within a madhouse cell,The thousand curses that gold brings upon us,The long death-struggle for the means to live,—All these the savage knows and suffers not.But then the joys, the pleasures and delights,That the well-cultivated mind enjoys;The appreciation of the beautifulIn nature and in art; the boundless rangeOf pleasure and of knowledge books afford;The constant change of incident and sceneThat makes us live a life in every year;—All these the savage knows not and enjoys not.Still we may ask, 'Does stern necessityCompel that this great good must co-existFor ever with that monstrous mass of ill?Must millions suffer these dread miseries,While but a few enjoy the grateful fruits?'For are there not, confined in our dense towns,And scattered over our most fertile fields,Millions of men who live a lower life—Lower in physical and moral health—Than the Red Indian of these trackless wilds?Have we not thousands too who live a lifeMore low, through eager longing after gold,—Whose thoughts, from morn to night, from night to morn,Are—how to get more gold?What know such men of intellectual joys?They've but one joy—the joy of getting gold.In nature's wondrous charms they've no delight,The one thing beautiful for them is—gold.Thoughts of the great of old which books contain,The poet's and the historian's fervid page,Or all the wonders science brings to light,For them exist not. They've no time to spendIn such amusements: 'Time,' say they, 'is gold.'And if they hear of some immortal deed,Some noble sacrifice of power or fortuneTo save a friend or spotless reputation,—A deed that moistens sympathetic eyes,And makes us proud we have such fellow-men,—They say, 'Who make such sacrifice are fools,For what is life without one's hard-earn'd gold?'Rather than live a man like one of these,I'd be an Indian here, and live contentTo fish, and hunt, and paddle my canoe,And see my children grow, like young wild fawns,In health of body and in peace of mind,Rich without wealth, and happy without gold!"A. W.Javíta,March, 1851.I had gone on here in my regular routine some time, when one morning, on getting up, I found none of the Indians, and no fire in the verandah. Thinking they had gone out early to hunt or fish, as they sometimes did, I lit the fire and got my breakfast, but still no sign of any of them. Looking about, I found that their hammocks, knives, an earthen pan, and a few other articles, were all gone, and that nothing was left in the house but what was my own. I was now convinced that they had run away in the night, and left me to get on as I could. They had been rather uneasy for some days past, asking me when I meant to go back. They did not like being among people whose language they could not speak, and hadbeen lately using up an enormous quantity of farinha, hoping when they had finished the last basket that I should be unable to purchase any more in the village, and should therefore be obliged to return. The day before I had just bought a fresh basket, and the sight of that appears to have supplied the last stimulus necessary to decide the question, and make them fly from the strange land and still stranger white man, who spent all his time in catching insects, and wasting good caxaça by putting fish and snakes into it. However, there was now nothing to be done, so I took my insect-net, locked up my house, put the key (an Indian-made wooden one) in my pocket, and started off for the forest.I had luckily, a short time before, bought a fine Venezuelan cheese and some dried beef, so that, with plenty of cassava-bread and plantains, I could get on very well. In the evening some of my usual visitors among the Indians dropped in, and were rather surprised to see me lighting my fire and preparing my dinner; and on my explaining the circumstances to them, they exclaimed that my Indians were "mala gente" (bad fellows), and intimated that they had always thought them no better than they should be. I got some of the boys to fetch me water from the river, and to bring me in a stock of fuel, and then, with coffee and cheese, roasted plantains and cassava-bread, I lived luxuriously. My coffee, however, was just finished, and in a day or two I had none. This I could hardly put up with without a struggle, so I went down to the cottage of an old Indian who could speak a little Spanish, and begged him, "por amor de Dios," to get me some coffee from a small plantation he had. There were some ripe berries on the trees, the sun was shining out, and he promised to set his little girl to work immediately. This was about ten in the morning. I went into the forest, and by four returned, and found that my coffee was ready. It had been gathered, the pulp washed off, dried in the sun (the longest part of the business), husked, roasted, and pounded in a mortar; and in half an hour more I enjoyed one of the most delicious cups of coffee I have ever tasted.As I wanted to remain a fortnight longer, I tried to persuade one of the brown damsels of the village to come and make my fire and cook for me; but, strange to say, not one would venture, though in the other villages of the Rio Negro I mightat any moment have had my choice of half a dozen; and I was forced to be my own cook and housemaid for the rest of my stay in Javíta.There was now in the village an old Indian trader who had come from Medina, a town at the foot of the Andes, near Bogotá, and from him and some other Indians I obtained much information relative to that part of the country, and the character of the streams that flow from the mountains down to the Orinooko. He informed me that he had ascended by the river Muco, which enters the Orinooko above the Falls of Maypures, and by which he had reached a point within twenty miles of the upper waters of the Meta, opposite Medina. The river Muco had no falls or obstructions to navigation, and all the upper part of its course flowed through an open country, and had fine sandy beaches; so that between this river and the Guaviare is the termination of the great forest of the Amazon valley.The weather was now terribly wet. For successive days and nights rain was incessant, and a few hours of sunshine was a rarity. Insects were few, and those I procured it was almost impossible to dry. In the drying box they got destroyed by mould, and if placed in the open air and exposed to the sun minute flies laid eggs upon them, and they were soon eaten up by maggots. The only way I could preserve them was to hang them up some time every evening and morning over my fire. I now began to regret more than ever my loss of the fine season, as I was convinced that I could have reaped a splendid harvest. I had, too, just began to initiate the Indian boys into catching beetles for me, and was accumulating a very nice collection. Every evening three or four would come in with their treasures in pieces of bamboo, or carefully tied up in leaves. I purchased all they brought, giving a fish-hook each; and among many common I generally found some curious and rare species.Coleoptera, generally so scarce in the forest districts of the Amazon and Rio Negro, seemed here to become more abundant, owing perhaps to our approach to the margins of the great forest, and the plains of the Orinooko.I prepared to leave Javíta with much regret. Although, considering the season, I had done well, I knew that had I been earlier I might have done much better. In April I hadarranged to go up the unexplored Uaupés with Senhor L., and even the prospect of his conversation was agreeable after the weary solitude I was exposed to here.I would, however, strongly recommend Javíta to any naturalist wishing for a good unexplored locality in South America. It is easily reached from the West Indies to Angostura, and thence up the Orinooko and Atabápo. A pound's worth of fish-hooks, and five pounds laid out in salt, beads, and calico, will pay all expenses there for six months. The traveller should arrive in September, and can then stay till March, and will have the full benefit of the whole of the dry season. The insects alone would well repay any one; the fishes are also abundant, and very new and interesting; and, as my collections were lost on the voyage home, they would have all the advantage of novelty.On the 31st of March I left Javíta, the Commissario having sent five or six Indians to carry my luggage, four of whom were to proceed with me to Tómo. The Indians of São Carlos, Tómo, and Maróa had been repairing their part of the road, and were returning home, so some of them agreed to go with me in the place of the Javítanos. They had found in the forest a number of the harlequin beetles (Acrocinus longimanus), which they offered me, carefully wrapped up in leaves; I bought five for a few fish-hooks each. On arriving at Pimichin the little river presented a very different appearance from what it had when I last saw it. It was now brim-full, and the water almost reached up to our shed, which had before been forty yards off, up a steep rocky bank. Before my men ran away I had sent two of them to Tómo to bring my canoe to Pimichin, the river having risen enough to allow it to come up, and I now found it here. They had taken a canoe belonging to Antonio Dias, who had passed Javíta a few days before on his way to São Fernando, so that when he returned he had to borrow another to go home in.We descended the little river rapidly, and now saw the extraordinary number of bends in it. I took the bearings of thirty with the compass, but then there came on a tremendous storm of wind and rain right in our faces, which rendered it quite impossible to see ahead. Before this had cleared off night came on, so that the remainder of the bends and doubles of the Pimichin river must still remain in obscurity. Thecountry it flows through appears to be a flat sandy tract, covered with a low scrubby vegetation, very like that of the river Cobáti, up which I ascended to the Serra to obtain the cocks of the rock.It was night when we reached Maróa, and we were nearly passing the village without seeing it. We went to the "casa de nação," rather a better kind of shed than usual, and, making a good fire, passed a comfortable night. The next morning I called on Senhor Carlos Bueno (Charles Good), the dandy Indian Commissario, and did a little business with him. I bought a lot of Indian baskets, gravatánas, quivers, and ururí or curarí poison, and in return gave him some fish-hooks and calico, and, having breakfasted with him, went on to Tómo.Senhor Antonio Dias was not there, having gone to São Carlos, so I determined to wait a few days for his return, as he had promised to send men with me to Guia. I took up my abode with Senhor Domingos, who was busy superintending the completion of the large vessel before mentioned, in order to get it launched with the high water, which was now within a foot or two of its bottom. I amused myself walking about the campo with my gun, and succeeded in shooting one of the beautiful little black-headed parrots, which have the most brillant green plumage, crimson under-wings, and yellow cheeks; they are only found in these districts, and are rather difficult to obtain. I also got some curious fish to figure,—in particular two large species ofGymnotus, of the group which are not electric.The Indians had a festa while I was here. They made abundance of "shirac," and kept up their dancing for thirty hours. The principal peculiarity of it was that they mixed up their civilised dress and their Indian decorations in a most extraordinary manner. They all wore clean trousers and white or striped shirts; but they had also feather-plumes, bead necklaces, and painted faces, which made altogether a rather queer mixture. They also carried their hammocks like scarfs over their shoulders, and had generally hollow cylinders in their hands, used to beat upon the ground in time to the dancing. Others had lances, bows, and wands, ornamented with feathers, producing as they danced in the moonlight a singular and wild appearance.Senhor Antonio Dias delayed his return, and rather a scenein his domestic circle took place in consequence. As might be expected, the ladies did not agree very well together. The elder one in particular was very jealous of the Indian girls, and took every opportunity of ill-treating them, and now that the master was absent went, I suppose, to greater lengths than usual; and the consequence was, one of the girls ran away. This was an unexpecteddénouement, and they were in a great state of alarm, for the girl was a particular favourite of Senhor Antonio's, and if he returned before she came back he was not likely to be very delicate in showing his displeasure. The girl had gone off in a canoe with a child about a year old; the night had been stormy and wet, but that sort of thing will not stop an Indian. Messengers were sent after her, but she was not to be found; and then the old lady and her daughter went off themselves in a tremendous rain, but with no better success. One resource more, however, remained, and they resolved to apply to the Saints. Senhor Domingos was sent to bring the image of St. Antonio from the church. This saint is supposed to have especial power over things lost, but the manner of securing his influence is rather singular:—the poor saint is tied round tightly with a cord and laid on his back on the floor, and it is believed that in order to obtain deliverance from such durance vile he will cause the lost sheep to return. Thus was the unfortunate St. Antony of Tómo now treated, and laid ignominiously on the earthen floor all night, but without effect; he was obstinate, and nothing was heard of the wanderer. More inquiries were made, but with no result, till two days afterwards Senhor Antonio himself returned accompanied by the girl. She had hid herself in a sitio a short distance from the village, waited for Senhor Antonio's passing, and then joined him, and told her own story first; and so the remainder of the harem got some hard words, and I am inclined to think some hard blows too.Before leaving Tómo, I purchased a pair of the beautiful feather-work borders, before alluded to, for which I paid £3 in silver dollars. Five Indians were procured to go with me, and at the same time take another small canoe, in which to bring back several articles that Senhor Antonio was much in want of. We paid the men between us, before going, with calicoes and cotton cloth, worth in England about twopence a yard, but here valued at 2s.6d., and soap, beads, knives, andaxes, in the same proportion. On the way, I got these Tómo Indians to give me a vocabulary of their language, which differs from that of the villages above and below them. We paddled by day, and floated down by night; and as the current was now tremendous, we got on so quickly, that in three days we reached Marabitanas, a distance which had taken us nine in going up.Here I stayed a week with the Commandante, who had invited me when at Guia. I, however, did little in the collecting way: there were no paths in the forest, and no insects, and very few birds worth shooting. I obtained some very curious half-spiny rodent animals, and a pretty white-marked bird, allied to the starlings, which appears here only once a year in flocks, and is called "Ciucí uera" (the star-bird).The inhabitants of Marabitanas are celebrated for their festas: their lives are spent, half at their festas, and the other half in preparing for them. They consume immense quantities of raw spirit, distilled from cane-juice and from the mandiocca: at a festa which took place while I was here, there was about a hogshead of strong spirit consumed, all drunk raw. In every house, where the dancing takes place, there are three or four persons constantly going round with a bottle and glass, and no one is expected ever to refuse; they keep on the whole night, and the moment you have tasted one glass, another succeeds, and you must at least take a sip of it. The Indians empty the glass every time; and this continues for two or three days. When all is finished, the inhabitants return to their sitios, and commence the preparation of a fresh lot of spirit for the next occasion.About a fortnight before each festa—which is always on a Saint's day of the Roman Catholic Church—a party of ten or a dozen of the inhabitants go round, in a canoe, to all the sitios and Indian villages within fifty or a hundred miles, carrying the image of the saint, flags, and music. They are entertained at every house, the saint is kissed, and presents are made for the feast; one gives a fowl, another some eggs or a bunch of plantains, another a few coppers. The live animals are frequently promised beforehand for a particular saint; and often, when I have wanted to buy some provisions, I have been assured that "that is St. John's pig," or that "those fowls belong to the Holy Ghost."Bidding adieu to the Commandante, Senhor Tenente Antonio Filisberto Correio de Araujo, who had treated me with the greatest kindness and hospitality, I proceeded on to Guia, where I arrived about the end of April, hoping to find Senhor L. ready, soon to start for the river Uaupés; but I was again doomed to delay, for a canoe which had been sent to Barra had not yet returned, and we could not start till it came. It was now due, but as it was manned by Indians, only who had no particular interest in hurrying back, it might very well be a month longer. And so it proved, for it did not arrive till the end of May. All that time I could do but little; the season was very wet, and Guia was a poor locality. Fishes were my principal resource, as Senhor L. had a fisherman out every day, to procure us our suppers, and I always had the day's sport brought to me first, to select any species I had not yet seen. In this way I constantly got new kinds, and became more than ever impressed with the extraordinary variety and abundance of the inhabitants of these rivers. I had now figured and described a hundred and sixty species from the Rio Negro alone; I had besides seen many others; and fresh varieties still occurred as abundantly as ever in every new locality. I am convinced that the number of species in the Rio Negro and its tributaries alone would be found to amount to five or six hundred. But the Amazon has most of its fishes peculiar to itself, and so have all its numerous tributaries, especially in their upper waters; so that the number of distinct kinds inhabiting the whole basin of the Amazon must be immense.CHAPTER X.FIRST ASCENT OF THE RIVER UAUPÉS.Rapid Current—An Indian Malocca—The Inmates—A Festival—Paint and Ornaments—Illness—São Jeronymo—Passing the Cataracts—Jauarité—The Tushaúa Calistro—Singular Palm—Birds—Cheap Provisions—Edible Ants, and Earthworms—A Grand Dance—Feather Ornaments—The Snake-dance—The Capí—A State Cigar—Ananárapicóma—Fish—Chegoes—Pass down the Falls—Tame Birds—Orchids—Pium͂s—Eating Dirt—Poisoning—Return to Guia—Manoel Joaquim—Annoying Delays.Atlength the long-looked for canoe arrived, and we immediately made preparations for our voyage. Fish-hooks and knives and beads were looked out to suit the customers we were going among, and from whom Senhor L. hoped to obtain farinha and sarsaparilla: and I, fish, insects, birds, and all sorts of bows, arrows, blowpipes, baskets, and other Indian curiosities.On the 3rd of June, at six in the morning, we started. The weather had cleared up a few days before, and was now very fine. We had only two Indians with us, the same who had run away from Javíta, and who had been paid their wages beforehand, so we now made them work it out. Those who had just returned from Barra were not willing to go out again immediately, but we hoped to get plenty on entering the Uaupés. The same afternoon we reached São Joaquim, at the mouth of that river; but as there were no men there, we were obliged to go on, and then commenced our real difficulties, for we had to encounter the powerful current of the overflowing stream. At first some bays, in which there were counter-currents, favoured us; but in more exposed parts, the waters rushed along with such violence, that our two paddles could not possibly move the canoe.We could only get on by pulling the bushes and creepers and tree-branches which line the margin of the river, now that almost all the adjacent lands were more or less flooded. The next day we cut long hooked poles, by which we could pull and push ourselves along at all difficult points, with more advantage. Sometimes, for miles together, we had to proceed thus,—getting the canoe filled, and ourselves covered, with stinging and biting ants of fifty different species, each producing its own peculiar effect, from a gentle tickle to an acute sting; and which, getting entangled in our hair and beards, and creeping over all parts of our bodies under our clothes, were not the most agreeable companions. Sometimes, too, we would encounter swarms of wasps, whose nests were concealed among the leaves, and who always make a most furious attack upon intruders. The naked bodies of the Indians offered no defence against their stings, and they several times suffered while we escaped. Nor are these the only inconveniences attending an up-stream voyage in the time of high flood, for all the river-banks being overflowed, it is only at some rocky point which still keeps above water that a fire can be made; and as these are few and far between, we frequently had to pass the whole day on farinha and water, with a piece of cold fish or a pacova, if we were so lucky as to have any. All these points, or sleeping places, are well known to the traders in the river, so that whenever we reached one, at whatever hour of the day or night, we stopped to make our coffee and rest a little, knowing that we should only get to another haven after eight or ten hours of hard pulling and paddling.On the second day we found a small "Sucurujú" (Eunectes murinus), about a yard long, sunning itself on a bush over the water; one of our Indians shot it with an arrow, and when we stayed for the night roasted it for supper. I tasted a piece, and found it excessively tough and glutinous, but without any disagreeable flavour; and well stewed, it would, I have no doubt, be very good. Having stopped at a sitio we purchased a fowl, which, boiled with rice, made us an excellent supper.On the 7th we entered a narrow winding channel, branching from the north bank of the river, and in about an hour reached a "malocca," or native Indian lodge, the first we had encountered. It was a large, substantial building, near a hundredfeet long, by about forty wide and thirty high, very strongly constructed of round, smooth, barked timbers, and thatched with the fan-shaped leaves of the Caraná palm. One end was square, with a gable, the other circular; and the eaves, hanging over the low walls, reached nearly to the ground. In the middle was a broad aisle, formed by the two rows of the principal columns supporting the roof, and between these and the sides were other rows of smaller and shorter timbers; the whole of them were firmly connected by longitudinal and transverse beams at the top, supporting the rafters, and were all bound together with much symmetry by sipós.Projecting inwards from the walls on each side were short partitions of palm-thatch, exactly similar in arrangement to the boxes in a London eating-house, or those of a theatre. Each of these is the private apartment of a separate family, who thus live in a sort of patriarchal community. In the side aisles are the farinha ovens, tipitís for squeezing the mandiocca, huge pans and earthen vessels for making caxirí, and other large articles, which appear to be in common; while in every separate apartment are the small pans, stools, baskets, redes, water-pots, weapons, and ornaments of the occupants. The centre aisle remains unoccupied, and forms a fine walk through the house. At the circular end is a cross partition or railing about five feet high, cutting off rather more than the semicircle, but with a wide opening in the centre: this forms the residence of the chief or head of the malocca, with his wives and children; the more distant relations residing in the other part of the house. The door at the gable end is very wide and lofty, that at the circular end is smaller, and these are the only apertures to admit light and air. The upper part of the gable is loosely covered with palm-leaves hung vertically, through which the smoke of the numerous wood fires slowly percolates, giving, however, in its passage a jetty lustre to the whole of the upper part of the roof.On entering this house, I was delighted to find myself at length in the presence of the true denizens of the forest. An old and a young man and two women were the only occupiers, the rest being out on their various pursuits. The women were absolutely naked; but on the entrance of the "brancos" they slipped on a petticoat, with which in these lower parts of the river they are generally provided but never use except onsuch occasions. Their hair was but moderately long, and they were without any ornament but strongly knitted garters, tightly laced immediately below the knee.It was the men, however, who presented the most novel appearance, as different from all the half-civilised races among whom I had been so long living, as they could be if I had been suddenly transported to another quarter of the globe. Their hair was carefully parted in the middle, combed behind the ears, and tied behind in a long tail reaching a yard down the back. The hair of this tail was firmly bound with a long cord formed of monkeys' hair, very soft and pliable. On the top of the head was stuck a comb, ingeniously constructed of palm-wood and grass, and ornamented with little tufts of toucans' rump feathers at each end; and the ears were pierced, and a small piece of straw stuck in the hole; altogether giving a most feminine appearance to the face, increased by the total absence of beard or whiskers, and by the hair of the eyebrows being almost entirely plucked out. A small strip of "tururí" (the inner bark of a tree) passed between the legs, and secured to a string round the waist, with a pair of knitted garters, constituted their simple dress.The young man was lazily swinging in a maqueira, but disappeared soon after we entered; the elder one was engaged making one of the flat hollow baskets, a manufacture peculiar to this district. He continued quietly at his occupation, answering the questions Senhor L. put to him about the rest of the inhabitants in a very imperfect "Lingoa Geral," which language is comparatively little known in this river, and that only in the lower and more frequented parts. As we wanted to procure one or two men to go with us, we determined to stay here for the night. We succeeded in purchasing for a few fish-hooks some fresh fish, which another Indian brought in: and then prepared our dinner and coffee, and brought our maqueiras up to the house, hanging them in the middle aisle, to pass the night there. About dusk many more Indians, male and female, arrived; fires were lighted in the several compartments, pots put on with fish or game for supper, and fresh mandiocca cakes made. I now saw several of the men with their most peculiar and valued ornament—a cylindrical, opaque, white stone, looking like marble, but which is really quartz imperfectly crystallized. These stones are from four to eight inches long,and about an inch in diameter. They are ground round, and flat at the ends, a work of great labour, and are each pierced with a hole at one end, through which a string is inserted, to suspend it round the neck. It appears almost incredible that they should make this hole in so hard a substance without any iron instrument for the purpose. What they are said to use is the pointed flexible leaf-shoot of the large wild plantain, triturating with fine sand and a little water; and I have no doubt it is, as it is said to be, a labour of years. Yet it must take a much longer time to pierce that which the Tushaúa wears as the symbol of his authority, for it is generally of the largest size, and is worn transversely across the breast, for which purpose the hole is bored lengthways from one end to the other, an operation which I was informed sometimes occupies two lives. The stones themselves are procured from a great distance up the river, probably from near its sources at the base of the Andes; they are therefore highly valued, and it is seldom the owners can be induced to part with them, the chiefs scarcely ever. I here purchased a club of hard red wood for a small mirror, a comb for half-a-dozen small fish-hooks, and some other trifling articles.A portion only of the inhabitants arrived that night, as when traders come they are afraid of being compelled to go with them, and so hide themselves. Many of the worst characters in the Rio Negro come to trade in this river, force the Indians, by threats of shooting them, into their canoes, and sometimes even do not scruple to carry their threats into execution, they being here quite out of reach of even that minute portion of the law which still struggles for existence in the Rio Negro.We passed the night in the malocca, surrounded by the naked Indians hanging round their fires, which sent a fitful light up into the dark smoke-filled roof. A torrent of rain poured without, and I could not help admiring the degree of sociality and comfort in numerous families thus living together in patriarchal harmony. The next morning Senhor L. succeeded in persuading one Indian to earn a "saía" (petticoat) for his wife, and embark with us, and so we bade adieu to Assaí Paraná (Assaí river). On lifting up the mat covering of our canoe, I found lying comfortably coiled up on the top of my box a fine young boa, of a species of which I possessed two live specimens at Guía: he had probably fallen in unperceived during our passage among the bushes on the river-side. In the afternoon we reached another village, also situated up a narrow igaripé, and consisting of a house and two maloccas at some distance from it. The inhabitants had gone to a neighbouring village, where there was caxirí and dancing, and two women only were left behind with some children. About these houses were several parrots, macaws, and curassow-birds, which all these Indians breed in great numbers. The next day we reached Ananárapicóma, or "Pine-apple Point," the village where the dance was taking place. It consisted of several small houses besides the large malocca, many of the Indians who have been with traders to the Rio Negro imitating them in using separate dwellings.On entering the great malocca a most extraordinary and novel scene presented itself. Some two hundred men, women, and children were scattered about the house, lying in the maqueiras, squatting on the ground, or sitting on the small painted stools, which are made only by the inhabitants of this river. Almost all were naked and painted, and wearing their various feathers and other ornaments. Some were walking or conversing, and others were dancing, or playing small fifes and whistles. The regular festa had been broken up that morning; the chiefs and principal men had put off their feather head-dresses, but as caxirí still remained, the young men and women continued dancing. They were painted over their whole bodies in regular patterns of a diamond or diagonal character, with black, red, and yellow colours; the former, a purple or blue black, predominating. The face was ornamented in various styles, generally with bright red in bold stripes or spots, a large quantity of the colour being applied to each ear, and running down on the sides of the cheeks and neck, producing a very fearful and sanguinary appearance. The grass in the ears was now decorated with a little tuft of white downy feathers, and some in addition had three little strings of beads from a hole pierced in the lower lip. All wore the garters, which were now generally painted yellow. Most of the young women who danced had besides a small apron of beads of about eight inches by six inches, arranged in diagonal patterns with much taste; besides this, the paint on their naked bodies was their only ornament; they had not even the comb in their hair, which the men are never without.The men and boys appropriated all the ornaments, thus reversing the custom of civilised countries and imitating nature, who invariably decorates the male sex with the most brilliant colours and most remarkable ornaments. On the head all wore a coronet of bright red and yellow toucans' feathers, set in a circlet of plaited straw. The comb in the hair was ornamented with feathers, and frequently a bunch of white heron's plumes attached to it fell gracefully down the back. Round the neck or over one shoulder were large necklaces of many folds of white or red beads, as well as the white cylindrical stone hung on the middle of a string of some black shining seeds.The ends of the monkey-hair cords which tied the hair were ornamented with little plumes, and from the arm hung a bunch of curiously-shaped seeds, ornamented with bright coloured feathers attached by strings of monkeys' hair. Round the waist was one of their most valued ornaments, possessed by comparatively few,—the girdle of onças' teeth. And lastly, tied round the ankles were large bunches of a curious hard fruit, which produce a rattling sound in the dance. In their hands some carried a bow and a bundle of curabís, or war-arrows; others a murucú, or spear of hard polished wood, or an oval painted gourd, filled with small stones and attached to a handle, which, being shaken at regular intervals in the dance, produced a rattling accompaniment to the leg ornaments and the song.The wild and strange appearance of these handsome, naked, painted Indians, with their curious ornaments and weapons, the stamp and song and rattle which accompanies the dance, the hum of conversation in a strange language, the music of fifes and flutes and other instruments of reed, bone, and turtles' shells, the large calabashes of caxirí constantly carried about, and the great smoke-blackened gloomy house, produced an effect to which no description can do justice, and of which the sight of half-a-dozen Indians going through their dances for show, gives but a very faint idea.I stayed looking on a considerable time, highly delighted at such an opportunity of seeing these interesting people in their most characteristic festivals. I was myself a great object of admiration, principally on account of my spectacles, which they saw for the first time and could not at all understand.A hundred bright pairs of eyes were continually directed on me from all sides, and I was doubtless the great subject of conversation. An old man brought me three ripe pine-apples, for which I gave him half-a-dozen small hooks, and he was very well contented.Senhor L. was conversing with many of the Indians, with whom he was well acquainted, and was arranging with one to go up a branch of the river, several days' journey, to purchase some salsa and farinha for him. I succeeded in buying a beautiful ornamented murucú, the principal insignia of the Tushaúa, or chief. He was very loth to part with it, and I had to give an axe and a large knife, of which he was much in want. I also bought two cigar-holders, about two feet long, in which a gigantic cigar is placed and handed round on these occasions. The next morning, after making our payments for the articles we had purchased, we went to bid our adieus to the chief. A small company who had come from some distance were taking their leave at the same time, going round the great house in Indian file, and speaking in a muttering tone to each head of a family. First came the old men bearing lances and shields of strong wicker-work, then the younger ones with their bows and arrows, and lastly the old and young women carrying their infants and the few household utensils they had brought with them. At these festivals drink alone is provided, in immense quantities, each party bringing a little mandiocca-cake or fish for its consumption, which, while the caxirí lasts, is very little. The paint on their bodies is very durable, for though they never miss washing two or three times a day, it lasts a week or a fortnight before it quite disappears.Leaving Ananárapicóma, we arrived the same evening at Mandii Paraná, where there was also a malocca, which, owing to the great rise of the river, could only be reached by wading up to the middle through the flooded forest. I accordingly stayed to superintend the making of a fire, which the soaking rain we had had all the afternoon rendered a somewhat difficult matter, while Senhor L. went with an Indian to the house to arrange some "negocio" and obtain fish for supper. We stayed here for the night, and the next morning the Indians came down in a body to the canoe, and made some purchases of fish-hooks, beads, mirrors, cloth for trousers, etc., of SenhorL., to be paid in farinha, fowls, and other articles on our return. I also ordered a small canoe as a specimen, and some sieves and fire-fanners, which I paid for in similar trifles; for these Indians are so accustomed to receive payment beforehand, that without doing so you cannot depend upon their making anything. The next day, the 12th of June, we reached Sâo Jeronymo, situated about a mile below the first and most dangerous of the Falls of the Uaupés.For the last five days I had been very ill with dysentery and continual pains in the stomach, brought on, I believe, by eating rather incautiously of the fat and delicious fish, the white Pirahiba or Laulau, three or four times consecutively without vegetable food. Here the symptoms became rather aggravated, and though not at all inclined to despond in sickness, yet as I knew this disease to be a very fatal one in tropical climates, and I had no medicines or even proper food of any kind, I certainly did begin to be a little alarmed. The worst of it was that I was continually hungry, but could not eat or drink the smallest possible quantity of anything without pains of the stomach and bowels immediately succeeding, which lasted several hours. The diarrhœa too was continual, with evacuations of slime and blood, which my diet of the last few days, of tapioca-gruel and coffee, seemed rather to have increased.I remained here most of the day in my maqueira, but in the afternoon some fish were brought in, and finding among them a couple of new species, I set to work figuring them, determined to let no opportunity pass of increasing my collections. This village has no malocca, but a number of small houses; having been founded by the Portuguese before the Independence. It is pleasantly situated on the sloping bank of the river, which is about half a mile wide, with rather high land opposite, and a view up to the narrow channel, where the waters are bounding and foaming and leaping high in the air with the violence of the fall, or more properly rapid.There was a young Brazilian "negociante" and his wife residing in this village, and as he was also about ascending the river to fetch farinha, we agreed to go together. The next morning we accordingly started, proceeding along the shore to near the fall, where we crossed among boiling foam and whirling eddies, and entered into a small igaripé, where thecanoe was entirely unloaded, all the cargo carried along a rugged path through the forest, and the canoe taken round a projecting point, where the violence of the current and the heaving waves of the fall render it impossible for anything but a small empty obá to pass, and even that with great difficulty.The path terminated at a narrow channel, through which a part of the river in the wet season flows, but which in the summer is completely dry. Were it not for this stream, the passage of the rapids in the wet season would be quite impossible; for though the actual fall of the water is trifling, its violence is inconceivable. The average width of the river may be stated at near three times that of the Thames at London; and it is in the wet season very deep and rapid. At the fall it is enclosed in a narrow sloping rocky gorge, about the width of the middle arch of London Bridge, or even less. I need say no more to prove the impossibility of ascending such a channel. There are immense whirlpools which engulf large canoes. The waters roll like ocean waves, and leap up at intervals, forty or fifty feet into the air, as if great subaqueous explosions were taking place.Presently the Indians appeared with our canoe, and, assisted by a dozen more who came to help us, pulled it up through the shallows, where the water was less violent. Then came another difficult point; and we plunged again into the forest with half the Indians carrying our cargo, while the remainder went with the canoe. There were several other dangerous places, and two more disembarkations and land carriages, the last for a considerable distance. Above the main fall the river is suddenly widened out into a kind of a lake, filled with rocky islands, among which are a confusion of minor falls and rapids. However, having plenty of Indians to assist us, we passed all these dangers by a little after midday, and reached a malocca, where we stayed for the afternoon repairing the wear and tear of the palm-mats and toldas, and cleaning our canoe and arranging our cargo, ready to start the next morning.In two days more we reached another village, called Jukeíra Picóma, or Salt Point, where we stayed a day. I was well satisfied to find myself here considerably better, owing, I believe, to my having tried fasting as a last resource: for twodays I had only taken a little farinha gruel once in the twenty-four hours. In a day and a half from Jukeíra we reached Jauarité, a village situated just below the caxoeira of the same name, the second great rapid on the Uaupés. Here we had determined to stay some days and then return, as the caxoeira is very dangerous to pass, and above it the river, for many days' journey, is a succession of rapids and strong currents, which render the voyage up at this season in the highest degree tedious and disagreeable. We accordingly disembarked our cargo into a house, or rather shed, near the shore, made for the accommodation of traders, which we cleaned and took possession of, and felt ourselves quite comfortable after the annoyances we had been exposed to in reaching this place. We then walked up to the malocca, to pay a visit to the Tushaúa. This house was a noble building of its kind, being one hundred and fifteen feet long, seventy-five wide, and about twenty-five feet high, the roof and upper timbers being black as jet with the smokes of many years. There were besides about a dozen private cottages, forming a small village. Scattered around were immense numbers of the Pupunha Palm (Guilielma speciosa), the fruit of which forms an important part of the food of these people during the season; it was now just beginning to ripen. The Tushaúa was rather a respectable-looking man, the possessor of a pair of trousers and a shirt, which he puts on in honour of white visitors. Senhor L., however, says he is one of the greatest rogues on the river, and will not trust him, as he does most of the other Indians, with goods beforehand. He rejoices in the name of Calistro, and pleased me much by his benevolent countenance and quiet dignified manner. He is said to be the possessor of great riches in the way of oncas' teeth and feathers, the result of his wars upon the Macús and other tribes of the tributary rivers; but these he will not show to the whites, for fear of being made to sell them. Behind the malocca I was pleased to see a fine broad path, leading into the forest to the several mandiocca rhossas. The next morning early I went with my net to explore it, and found it promise pretty well for insects, considering the season. I was greatly delighted at meeting in it the lovely clear-winged butterfly allied to theEsmeralda, that I had taken so sparingly at Javíta; and I also took a specimen of another of the same genus, quite new to me. Aplain-colouredAcrœa, that I had first met with at Jukeíra, was here also very abundant.In a hollow near a small stream that crossed the path I found growing the singular palm called "Paxiúba barriguda" (the big-bellied paxiuba). It is a fine, tall, rather slender tree, with a head of very elegant curled leaves. At the base of the stem is a conical mass of air-roots, five or six feet high, more or less developed in all the species of this genus. But the peculiar character from which it derives its name is, that the stem at rather more than halfway up swells suddenly out to double its former thickness or more, and after a short distance again contracts, and continues cylindrical to the top. It is only by seeing great numbers of these trees, all with this character more or less palpable, that one can believe it is not an accidental circumstance in the individual tree, instead of being truly characteristic of the species. It is theIriartea ventricosaof Martius.I tried here to procure some hunters and fishermen, but was not very successful. I had a few fish brought me, and now and then a bird. A curious bird, called anambé, was flying in flocks about the pupunha palms, and after much trouble I succeeded in shooting one, and it proved, as I had anticipated, quite different from theGymnoderus nudicollis, which is a species much resembling it in its flight, and common in all parts of the Rio Negro. I went after them several times, but could not succeed in shooting another; for though they take but short flights, they remain at rest scarcely an instant. About the houses here were several trumpeters, curassow-birds, and those beautiful parrots, the anacás (Derotypus accipitrinus), which all wander and fly about at perfect liberty, but being bred from the nest, always return to be fed. The Uaupés Indians take much delight, and are very successful, in breeding birds and animals of all kinds.We stayed here a week, and I went daily into the forest when the weather was not very wet, and generally obtained something interesting. I frequently met parties of women and boys, going to and returning from the rhossas. Sometimes they would run into the thicket till I had passed; at other times they would merely stand on one side of the path, with a kind of bashful fear at encountering a white man while in that state of complete nudity, which they know is strange to us.When about the houses in the village however, or coming to fill their water-pots or bathe in the river close to our habitation, they were quite unembarrassed, being, like Eve, "naked and not ashamed." Though some were too fat, most of them had splendid figures, and many of them were very pretty. Before daylight in the morning all were astir, and came to the river to wash. It is the chilliest hour of the twenty-four, and when we were wrapping our sheet or blanket more closely around us, we could hear the plunges and splashings of these early bathers. Rain or wind is all alike to them: their morning bath is never dispensed with.Fish were here very scarce, and we were obliged to live almost entirely on fowls, which, though very nice when well roasted and with the accompaniment of ham and gravy, are rather tasteless simply boiled or stewed, with no variation in the cookery, and without vegetables. I had now got so thoroughly into the life of this part of the country, that, like everybody else here, I preferred fish to every other article of food. One never tires of it; and I must again repeat that I believe there are fish here superior to any in the world. Our fowls cost us about a penny each, paid in fish-hooks or salt, so that they are not such expensive food as they would be at home. In fact, if a person buys his hooks, salt, and other things in Pará, where they are about half the price they are at Barra, the price of a fowl will not exceed a halfpenny; and fish, pacovas, and other eatables that the country produces, in the same proportion. A basket of farinha, that will last one person very well a month, will cost about threepence; so that with a small expenditure a man may obtain enough to live on. The Indians here made their mandiocca bread very differently from, and very superior to, those of the adjacent rivers. The greater part is tapioca, which they mix with a small quantity of the prepared mandiocca-root, and form a white, gelatinous, granular cake, which with a little use is very agreeable, and is much sought after by all the white traders on the river. Farinha they scarcely ever eat themselves, but make it only to sell; and as they extract the tapioca, which is the pure glutinous portion of the root, to make their own bread, they mix the refuse with a little fresh mandiocca to make farinha, which is thus of a very poor quality; yet such is the state of agriculture on the Rio Negro, that the city of Barradepends in a great measure upon this refuse food of the Indians, and several thousand alqueires are purchased, and most of it sent there, annually.The principal food of these Indians is fish, and when they have neither this nor any game, they boil a quantity of peppers, in which they dip their bread. At several places where we stopped this was offered to our men, who ate with a relish the intensely burning mess. Yams and sweet potatoes are also abundant, and with pacovas form a large item in their stock of eatables. Then they have the delicious drinks made from the fruits of the assaí, baccába, and patawá palms, as well as several other fruits.The large saübas and white ants are an occasional luxury, and when nothing else is to be had in the wet season they eat large earth-worms, which, when the lands in which they live are flooded, ascend trees, and take up their abode in the hollow leaves of a species ofTillandsia, where they are often found accumulated by thousands. Nor is it only hunger that makes them eat these worms, for they sometimes boil them with their fish to give it an extra relish.They consume great quantities of mandiocca in making caxirí for their festas, which are continually taking place. As I had not seen a regular dance, Senhor L. asked the Tushaúa to make some caxirí and invite his friends and vassals to dance, for the white stranger to see. He readily consented, and, as we were to leave in two or three days, immediately sent round a messenger to the houses of the Indians near, to make known the day and request the honour of their company. As the notice was so short, it was only those in the immediate neighbourhood who could be summoned.On the appointed day numerous preparations were taking place. The young girls came repeatedly to fill their pitchers at the river early in the morning, to complete the preparation of the caxirí. In the forenoon they were busy weeding all round the malocca, and sprinkling water, and sweeping within it. The women were bringing in dry wood for the fires, and the young men were scattered about in groups, plaiting straw coronets or arranging some other parts of their ornaments. In the afternoon, as I came from the forest, I found several engaged in the operation of painting, which others had already completed. The women had painted themselves or eachother, and presented a neat pattern in black and red all over their bodies, some circles and curved lines occurring on their hips and breasts, while on their faces round spots of a bright vermilion seemed to be the prevailing fashion. The juice of a fruit which stains of a fine purplish-black is often poured on the back of the head and neck, and, trickling all down the back, produces what they, no doubt, consider a very elegant dishabille. These spotted beauties were now engaged in performing the same operation for their husbands and sweethearts, some standing, others sitting, and directing the fair artists how to dispose the lines and tints to their liking.We prepared our supper rather early, and about sunset, just as we had finished, a messenger came to notify to us that the dance had begun, and that the Tushaúa had sent to request our company. We accordingly at once proceeded to the malocca, and entering the private apartment at the circular end, were politely received by the Tushaúa, who was dressed in his shirt and trousers only, and requested us to be seated in maqueiras. After a few minutes' conversation I turned to look at the dancing, which was taking place in the body of the house, in a large clear space round the two central columns. A party of about fifteen or twenty middle-aged men were dancing; they formed a semicircle, each with his left hand on his neighbour's right shoulder. They were all completely furnished with their feather ornaments, and I now saw for the first time the head-dress, or acangatára, which they value highly. This consists of a coronet of red and yellow feathers disposed in regular rows, and firmly attached to a strong woven or plaited band. The feathers are entirely from the shoulders of the great red macaw, but they are not those that the bird naturally possesses, for these Indians have a curious art by which they change the colours of the feathers of many birds.They pluck out those they wish to paint, and in the fresh wound inoculate with the milky secretion from the skin of a small frog or toad. When the feathers grow again they are of a brilliant yellow or orange colour, without any mixture of blue or green, as in the natural state of the bird; and on the new plumage being again plucked out, it is said always to come of the same colour without any fresh operation. The feathers are renewed but slowly, and it requires a great number of them to make a coronet, so we see the reason why the owner esteemsit so highly, and only in the greatest necessity will part with it.Attached to the comb on the top of the head is a fine broad plume of the tail-coverts of the white egret, or more rarely of the under tail-coverts of the great harpy eagle. These are large, snowy white, loose and downy, and are almost equal in beauty to a plume of white ostrich feathers. The Indians keep these noble birds in great open houses or cages, feeding them with fowls (of which they will consume two a day), solely for the sake of these feathers; but as the birds are rare, and the young with difficulty secured, the ornament is one that few possess. From the ends of the comb cords of monkeys' hair, decorated with small feathers, hang down the back, and in the ears are the little downy plumes, forming altogether a most imposing and elegant head-dress. All these dancers had also the cylindrical stone of large size, the necklace of white beads, the girdle of onças' teeth, the garters, and ankle-rattles. A very few had besides a most curious ornament, the nature of which completely puzzled me: it was either a necklace or a circlet round the forehead, according to the quantity possessed, and consisted of small curiously curved pieces of a white colour with a delicate rosy tinge, and appearing like shell or enamel. They say they procure them from the Indians of the Japurá and other rivers, and that they are very expensive, three or four pieces only costing an axe. They appear to me more like portions of the lip of a large shell cut into perfectly regular pieces than anything else, but so regular in size and shape, as to make me doubt again that they can be shell, or that Indians can form them.In their hands each held a lance, or bundle of arrows, or the painted calabash-rattle. The dance consisted simply of a regular sideway step, carrying the performers round and round in a circle; the simultaneous stamping of the feet, the rattle and clash of the leg ornaments and calabashes, and a chant of a few words repeated in a deep tone, producing a very martial and animated effect. At certain intervals the young women joined in, each one taking her place between two men, whom she clasped with each arm round the waist, her head bending forward beneath the outstretched arm above, which, as the women were all of low stature, did not much interfere with their movements. They kept their places for one or tworounds, and then, at a signal of some sort, all left and retired to their seat on stools or on the ground, till the time should come for them again to take their places. The greater part of them wore the "tanga," or small apron of beads, but some were perfectly naked. Several wore large cylindrical copper earrings, so polished as to appear like gold. These and the garters formed their only ornaments,—necklaces, bracelets, and feathers being entirely monopolised by the men. The paint with which they decorate their whole bodies has a very neat effect, and gives them almost the appearance of being dressed, and as such they seem to regard it; and however much those who have not witnessed this strange scene may be disposed to differ from me, I must record my opinion that there is far more immodesty in the transparent and flesh-coloured garments of our stage-dancers, than in the perfect nudity of these daughters of the forest.In the open space outside the house, a party of young men and boys, who did not possess the full costume, were dancing in the same manner. They soon, however, began what may be called the snake dance. They had made two huge artificial snakes of twigs and bushes bound together with sipós, from thirty to forty feet long and about a foot in diameter, with a head of a bundle of leaves of the Umboöba (Cecropia), painted with bright red colour, making altogether a very formidable-looking reptile. They divided themselves into two parties of twelve or fifteen each, and lifting the snakes on their shoulders, began dancing.In the dance they imitated the undulations of the serpent, raising the head and twisting the tail. They kept advancing and retreating, keeping parallel to each other, and every time coming nearer to the principal door of the house. At length they brought the heads of the snakes into the very door, but still retreated several times. Those within had now concluded their first dance, and after several more approaches, in came the snakes with a sudden rush, and, parting, went one on the right side and one on the left. They still continued the advancing and retreating step, till at length, each having traversed a semicircle, they met face to face. Here the two snakes seemed inclined to fight, and it was only after many retreatings and brandishings of the head and tail, that they could muster resolution to rush past each other. After one ortwo more rounds, they passed out to the outside of the house, and the dance, which had apparently much pleased all the spectators, was concluded.During all this time caxirí was being abundantly supplied, three men being constantly employed carrying it to the guests. They came one behind the other down the middle of the house, with a large calabash-full in each hand, half stooping down, with a kind of running dance, and making a curious whirring, humming noise: on reaching the door they parted on each side, distributing their calabashes to whoever wished to drink. In a minute or two they were all empty, and the cupbearers returned to fill them, bringing them every time with the same peculiar forms, which evidently constitute the etiquette of the caxirí-servers. As each of the calabashes holds at least two quarts, the quantity drunk during a whole night that this process is going on must be very great.Presently the Capí was introduced, an account of which I had had from Senhor L. An old man comes forward with a large newly-painted earthen pot, which he sets down in the middle of the house. He then squats behind it, stirs it about, and takes out two small calabashes-full, which he holds up in each hand. After a moment's pause, two Indians advance with bows and arrows or lances in their hands. Each takes the proffered cup and drinks, makes a wry face, for it is intensely bitter, and stands motionless perhaps half a minute. They then with a start twang their bows, shake their lances, stamp their feet, and return to their seats. The little bowls are again filled, and two others succeed them, with a similar result. Some, however, become more excited, run furiously, lance in hand, as if they would kill an enemy, shout and stamp savagely, and look very warlike and terrible, and then, like the others, return quietly to their places. Most of these receive a hum or shake of applause from the spectators, which is also given at times during the dances.The house at this time contained at least three hundred men, women, and children; a continual murmuring conversation was kept up, and fifty little fifes and flutes were constantly playing, each on its own account, producing a not very harmonious medley. After dark a large fire was lighted in the middle of the house, and as it blazed up brightly at intervals, illuminating the painted and feather-dressed dancers and the numerousstrange groups in every variety of posture scattered about the great house, I longed for a skilful painter to do justice to a scene so novel, picturesque, and interesting.A number of fires were also made outside the house, and the young men and boys amused themselves by jumping over them when flaming furiously, an operation which, with their naked bodies, appeared somewhat hazardous. Having been now looking on about three hours, we went to bid adieu to the Tushaúa, previous to retiring to our house, as I did not feel much inclined to stay with them all night. We found him with a few visitors, smoking, which on these occasions is performed in a very ceremonious manner. The cigar is eight or ten inches long and an inch in diameter, made of tobacco pounded and dried, and enclosed in a cylinder made of a large leaf spirally twisted. It is placed in a cigar-holder about two feet long, like a great two-pronged fork. The bottom is pointed, so that when not in use it can be stuck in the ground. This cigar was offered to us, and Senhor L. took a few whiffs for us both, as he is a confirmed smoker. The caxirí was exceedingly good (although the mandiocca-cake of which it is made is chewed by a parcel of old women), and I much pleased the lady of the Tushaúa by emptying the calabash she offered me, and pronouncing it to be "purángareté" (excellent). We then said "Eré" (adieu), and groped our way down the rough path to our river-side house, to be sung to sleep by the hoarse murmur of the cataract. The next morning the dance was still going on, but, as the caxirí was nearly finished, it terminated about nine o'clock, and the various guests took their leave.During the dance, Bernardo, an Indian of São Jeronymo, arrived from the Rio Apaporis. Senhor L. had sent a message to him by his son (who had come with us) to procure some Indian boys and girls for him, and he now came to talk over the business. The procuring consists in making an attack on some malocca of another nation, and capturing all that do not escape or are not killed. Senhor L. has frequently been on these expeditions, and has had some narrow escapes from lances and poisoned arrows. At Ananárapicóma there was an Indian dreadfully scarred all over one shoulder and part of his back, the effects of a discharge of B.B. shot which Senhor L. had given him, just as he was in the act of turning with his bow and arrow: they are now excellent friends, and do businesstogether. The "negociantes" and authorities in Barra and Pará, ask the traders among the Indians to procure a boy or girl for them, well knowing the only manner in which they can be obtained; in fact, the Government in some degree authorise the practice. There is something to be said too in its favour, for the Indians make war on each other,—principally the natives of the margin of the river on those in the more distant igaripés,—for the sake of their weapons and ornaments, and for revenge of any injury, real or imaginary, and then kill all they can, reserving only some young girls for their wives. The hope of selling them to the traders, however, induces them to spare many who would otherwise be murdered. These are brought up to some degree of civilisation (though I much doubt if they are better or happier than in their native forests), and though at times ill-treated, they are free, and can leave their masters whenever they like, which, however, they seldom do when taken very young. Senhor L. had been requested by two parties at Barra—one the Delegarde de Policia—to furnish them each with an Indian girl, and as this man was an old hand at the business, he was now agreeing with him, furnishing him with powder and shot—for he had a gun—and giving him some goods, to pay other Indians for assisting him, and to do a little business at the same time if he had the opportunity. He was to return at the furthest in a fortnight, and we were to wait for him in São Jeronymo.
"'Tis where the streams divide, to swell the floodsOf the two mighty rivers of our globe;Where gushing brooklets in their narrow bedsLie hid, o'ershadow'd by th' eternal woods,And trickle onwards,—these to increase the waveOf turbid Orinooko; those, by a longer courseIn the Black River's isle-strewn bed, flow downTo mighty Amazon, the river-king,And, mingled with his all-engulfing stream,Go to do battle with proud Ocean's self,And drive him back even from his own domain.There is an Indian village; all around,The dark, eternal, boundless forest spreadsIts varied foliage. Stately palm-trees riseOn every side, and numerous trees unknownSave by strange names uncouth to English ears.Here I dwelt awhile the one white manAmong perhaps two hundred living souls.They pass a peaceful and contented life,These black-hair'd, red-skinn'd, handsome, half-wild men.Directed by the sons of Old Castile,They keep their village and their houses clean;And on the eve before the Sabbath-dayAssemble all at summons of a bell,To sweep within and all around their church,In which next morn they meet, all neatly dress'd,To pray as they've been taught unto their God.It was a pleasing sight, that Sabbath morn,Reminding me of distant, dear-loved home.On one side knelt the men, their simple dressA shirt and trousers of coarse cotton cloth:On the other side were women and young girls,Their glossy tresses braided with much taste,And on their necks all wore a kerchief gay,And some a knot of riband in their hair.How like they look'd, save in their dusky skin,To a fair group of English village maids!Yet far superior in their graceful forms;For their free growth no straps or bands impede,But simple food, free air, and daily bathsAnd exercise, give all that Nature asksTo mould a beautiful and healthy frame.Each day some labour calls them. Now they goTo fell the forest's pride, or in canoeWith hook, and spear, and arrow, to catch fish;Or seek the various products of the wood,To make their baskets or their hanging beds.The women dig the mandiocca root,And with much labour make of it their bread.These plant the young shoots in the fertile earth—Earth all untill'd, to which the plough, or spade,Or rake, or harrow, are alike unknown.The young girls carry water on their headsIn well-formed pitchers, just like Cambrian maids;And all each morn and eve wash in the stream,And sport like mermaids in the sparkling wave.The village is laid out with taste and skill:In the midst a spacious square, where stands the church,And narrow streets diverging all around.Between the houses, filling up each space,The broad, green-leaved, luxuriant plantain grows,Bearing huge bunches of most wholesome fruit;The orange too is there, and grateful lime;The Inga pendent hangs its yard-long pods(Whose flowers attract the fairy humming-birds);The guava, and the juicy, sweet cashew,And a most graceful palm, which bears a fruitIn bright red clusters, much esteem'd for food;And there are many more which IndiansEsteem, and which have only Indian names.The houses are of posts fill'd up with mud,Smooth'd, and wash'd over with a pure white clay;A palm-tree's spreading leaves supply a thatchImpervious to the winter's storms and rain.No nail secures the beams or rafters, allIs from the forest, whose lithe, pendent cordsBind them into a firm enduring mass.From the tough fibre of a fan-palm's leafThey twist a cord to make their hammock-bed,Their bow-string, line, and net for catching fish.Their food is simple—fish and cassava-bread,With various fruits, and sometimes forest game,All season'd with hot, pungent, fiery peppers.Sauces and seasonings too, and drinks they have,Made from the mandiocca's poisonous juice;And but one foreign luxury, which is salt.Salt here is money: daily they bring to meCassava cakes, or fish, or ripe bananas,Or birds or insects, fowls or turtles' eggs,And still they ask for salt. Two teacups-fullBuy a large basket of cassava cakes,A great bunch of bananas, or a fowl.One day they made a festa, and, just likeOur villagers at home, they drank much beer,(Beer made from roasted mandiocca cakes,)Call'd here "shirac," by others "caxiri,"But just like beer in flavour and effect;And then they talked much, shouted and sang,And men and maids all danced in a ringWith much delight, like children at their play.For music they've small drums and reed-made fifes.And vocal chants, monotonous and shrill,To which they'll dance for hours without fatigue.The children of small growth are naked, andThe boys and men wear but a narrow cloth.How I delight to see those naked boys!Their well-form'd limbs, their bright, smooth, red-brown skin,And every motion full of grace and health;And as they run, and race, and shout, and leap,Or swim and dive beneath the rapid stream,Or, all bareheaded in the noonday sun,Creep stealthily, with blowpipe or with bow,To shoot small birds or swiftly gliding fish,I pity English boys; their active limbsCramp'd and confined in tightly-fitting clothes;Their toes distorted by the shoemaker,Their foreheads aching under heavy hats,And all their frame by luxury enervate.But how much more I pity English maids,Their waist, and chest, and bosom all confinedBy that vile torturing instrument called stays!And thus these people pass their simple lives.They are a peaceful race; few serious crimesAre known among them; they nor rob nor murder,And all the complicated villaniesOf man called civilised are here unknown.Yet think not I would place, as some would do,The civilised below the savage man;Or wish that we could retrograde, and liveAs did our forefathers ere Cæsar came.'Tis true the miseries, the wants and woes,The poverty, the crimes, the broken hearts,The intense mental agonies that leadSome men to self-destruction, someTo end their days within a madhouse cell,The thousand curses that gold brings upon us,The long death-struggle for the means to live,—All these the savage knows and suffers not.But then the joys, the pleasures and delights,That the well-cultivated mind enjoys;The appreciation of the beautifulIn nature and in art; the boundless rangeOf pleasure and of knowledge books afford;The constant change of incident and sceneThat makes us live a life in every year;—All these the savage knows not and enjoys not.Still we may ask, 'Does stern necessityCompel that this great good must co-existFor ever with that monstrous mass of ill?Must millions suffer these dread miseries,While but a few enjoy the grateful fruits?'For are there not, confined in our dense towns,And scattered over our most fertile fields,Millions of men who live a lower life—Lower in physical and moral health—Than the Red Indian of these trackless wilds?Have we not thousands too who live a lifeMore low, through eager longing after gold,—Whose thoughts, from morn to night, from night to morn,Are—how to get more gold?What know such men of intellectual joys?They've but one joy—the joy of getting gold.In nature's wondrous charms they've no delight,The one thing beautiful for them is—gold.Thoughts of the great of old which books contain,The poet's and the historian's fervid page,Or all the wonders science brings to light,For them exist not. They've no time to spendIn such amusements: 'Time,' say they, 'is gold.'And if they hear of some immortal deed,Some noble sacrifice of power or fortuneTo save a friend or spotless reputation,—A deed that moistens sympathetic eyes,And makes us proud we have such fellow-men,—They say, 'Who make such sacrifice are fools,For what is life without one's hard-earn'd gold?'Rather than live a man like one of these,I'd be an Indian here, and live contentTo fish, and hunt, and paddle my canoe,And see my children grow, like young wild fawns,In health of body and in peace of mind,Rich without wealth, and happy without gold!"
"'Tis where the streams divide, to swell the floodsOf the two mighty rivers of our globe;Where gushing brooklets in their narrow bedsLie hid, o'ershadow'd by th' eternal woods,And trickle onwards,—these to increase the waveOf turbid Orinooko; those, by a longer courseIn the Black River's isle-strewn bed, flow downTo mighty Amazon, the river-king,And, mingled with his all-engulfing stream,Go to do battle with proud Ocean's self,And drive him back even from his own domain.There is an Indian village; all around,The dark, eternal, boundless forest spreadsIts varied foliage. Stately palm-trees riseOn every side, and numerous trees unknownSave by strange names uncouth to English ears.Here I dwelt awhile the one white manAmong perhaps two hundred living souls.They pass a peaceful and contented life,These black-hair'd, red-skinn'd, handsome, half-wild men.Directed by the sons of Old Castile,They keep their village and their houses clean;And on the eve before the Sabbath-dayAssemble all at summons of a bell,To sweep within and all around their church,In which next morn they meet, all neatly dress'd,To pray as they've been taught unto their God.It was a pleasing sight, that Sabbath morn,Reminding me of distant, dear-loved home.On one side knelt the men, their simple dressA shirt and trousers of coarse cotton cloth:On the other side were women and young girls,Their glossy tresses braided with much taste,And on their necks all wore a kerchief gay,And some a knot of riband in their hair.How like they look'd, save in their dusky skin,To a fair group of English village maids!Yet far superior in their graceful forms;For their free growth no straps or bands impede,But simple food, free air, and daily bathsAnd exercise, give all that Nature asksTo mould a beautiful and healthy frame.Each day some labour calls them. Now they goTo fell the forest's pride, or in canoeWith hook, and spear, and arrow, to catch fish;Or seek the various products of the wood,To make their baskets or their hanging beds.The women dig the mandiocca root,And with much labour make of it their bread.These plant the young shoots in the fertile earth—Earth all untill'd, to which the plough, or spade,Or rake, or harrow, are alike unknown.The young girls carry water on their headsIn well-formed pitchers, just like Cambrian maids;And all each morn and eve wash in the stream,And sport like mermaids in the sparkling wave.The village is laid out with taste and skill:In the midst a spacious square, where stands the church,And narrow streets diverging all around.Between the houses, filling up each space,The broad, green-leaved, luxuriant plantain grows,Bearing huge bunches of most wholesome fruit;The orange too is there, and grateful lime;The Inga pendent hangs its yard-long pods(Whose flowers attract the fairy humming-birds);The guava, and the juicy, sweet cashew,And a most graceful palm, which bears a fruitIn bright red clusters, much esteem'd for food;And there are many more which IndiansEsteem, and which have only Indian names.The houses are of posts fill'd up with mud,Smooth'd, and wash'd over with a pure white clay;A palm-tree's spreading leaves supply a thatchImpervious to the winter's storms and rain.No nail secures the beams or rafters, allIs from the forest, whose lithe, pendent cordsBind them into a firm enduring mass.From the tough fibre of a fan-palm's leafThey twist a cord to make their hammock-bed,Their bow-string, line, and net for catching fish.Their food is simple—fish and cassava-bread,With various fruits, and sometimes forest game,All season'd with hot, pungent, fiery peppers.Sauces and seasonings too, and drinks they have,Made from the mandiocca's poisonous juice;And but one foreign luxury, which is salt.Salt here is money: daily they bring to meCassava cakes, or fish, or ripe bananas,Or birds or insects, fowls or turtles' eggs,And still they ask for salt. Two teacups-fullBuy a large basket of cassava cakes,A great bunch of bananas, or a fowl.One day they made a festa, and, just likeOur villagers at home, they drank much beer,(Beer made from roasted mandiocca cakes,)Call'd here "shirac," by others "caxiri,"But just like beer in flavour and effect;And then they talked much, shouted and sang,And men and maids all danced in a ringWith much delight, like children at their play.For music they've small drums and reed-made fifes.And vocal chants, monotonous and shrill,To which they'll dance for hours without fatigue.The children of small growth are naked, andThe boys and men wear but a narrow cloth.How I delight to see those naked boys!Their well-form'd limbs, their bright, smooth, red-brown skin,And every motion full of grace and health;And as they run, and race, and shout, and leap,Or swim and dive beneath the rapid stream,Or, all bareheaded in the noonday sun,Creep stealthily, with blowpipe or with bow,To shoot small birds or swiftly gliding fish,I pity English boys; their active limbsCramp'd and confined in tightly-fitting clothes;Their toes distorted by the shoemaker,Their foreheads aching under heavy hats,And all their frame by luxury enervate.But how much more I pity English maids,Their waist, and chest, and bosom all confinedBy that vile torturing instrument called stays!And thus these people pass their simple lives.They are a peaceful race; few serious crimesAre known among them; they nor rob nor murder,And all the complicated villaniesOf man called civilised are here unknown.Yet think not I would place, as some would do,The civilised below the savage man;Or wish that we could retrograde, and liveAs did our forefathers ere Cæsar came.'Tis true the miseries, the wants and woes,The poverty, the crimes, the broken hearts,The intense mental agonies that leadSome men to self-destruction, someTo end their days within a madhouse cell,The thousand curses that gold brings upon us,The long death-struggle for the means to live,—All these the savage knows and suffers not.But then the joys, the pleasures and delights,That the well-cultivated mind enjoys;The appreciation of the beautifulIn nature and in art; the boundless rangeOf pleasure and of knowledge books afford;The constant change of incident and sceneThat makes us live a life in every year;—All these the savage knows not and enjoys not.Still we may ask, 'Does stern necessityCompel that this great good must co-existFor ever with that monstrous mass of ill?Must millions suffer these dread miseries,While but a few enjoy the grateful fruits?'For are there not, confined in our dense towns,And scattered over our most fertile fields,Millions of men who live a lower life—Lower in physical and moral health—Than the Red Indian of these trackless wilds?Have we not thousands too who live a lifeMore low, through eager longing after gold,—Whose thoughts, from morn to night, from night to morn,Are—how to get more gold?What know such men of intellectual joys?They've but one joy—the joy of getting gold.In nature's wondrous charms they've no delight,The one thing beautiful for them is—gold.Thoughts of the great of old which books contain,The poet's and the historian's fervid page,Or all the wonders science brings to light,For them exist not. They've no time to spendIn such amusements: 'Time,' say they, 'is gold.'And if they hear of some immortal deed,Some noble sacrifice of power or fortuneTo save a friend or spotless reputation,—A deed that moistens sympathetic eyes,And makes us proud we have such fellow-men,—They say, 'Who make such sacrifice are fools,For what is life without one's hard-earn'd gold?'Rather than live a man like one of these,I'd be an Indian here, and live contentTo fish, and hunt, and paddle my canoe,And see my children grow, like young wild fawns,In health of body and in peace of mind,Rich without wealth, and happy without gold!"
"'Tis where the streams divide, to swell the floodsOf the two mighty rivers of our globe;Where gushing brooklets in their narrow bedsLie hid, o'ershadow'd by th' eternal woods,And trickle onwards,—these to increase the waveOf turbid Orinooko; those, by a longer courseIn the Black River's isle-strewn bed, flow downTo mighty Amazon, the river-king,And, mingled with his all-engulfing stream,Go to do battle with proud Ocean's self,And drive him back even from his own domain.There is an Indian village; all around,The dark, eternal, boundless forest spreadsIts varied foliage. Stately palm-trees riseOn every side, and numerous trees unknownSave by strange names uncouth to English ears.Here I dwelt awhile the one white manAmong perhaps two hundred living souls.They pass a peaceful and contented life,These black-hair'd, red-skinn'd, handsome, half-wild men.Directed by the sons of Old Castile,They keep their village and their houses clean;And on the eve before the Sabbath-dayAssemble all at summons of a bell,To sweep within and all around their church,In which next morn they meet, all neatly dress'd,To pray as they've been taught unto their God.It was a pleasing sight, that Sabbath morn,Reminding me of distant, dear-loved home.On one side knelt the men, their simple dressA shirt and trousers of coarse cotton cloth:On the other side were women and young girls,Their glossy tresses braided with much taste,And on their necks all wore a kerchief gay,And some a knot of riband in their hair.How like they look'd, save in their dusky skin,To a fair group of English village maids!Yet far superior in their graceful forms;For their free growth no straps or bands impede,But simple food, free air, and daily bathsAnd exercise, give all that Nature asksTo mould a beautiful and healthy frame.
"'Tis where the streams divide, to swell the floods
Of the two mighty rivers of our globe;
Where gushing brooklets in their narrow beds
Lie hid, o'ershadow'd by th' eternal woods,
And trickle onwards,—these to increase the wave
Of turbid Orinooko; those, by a longer course
In the Black River's isle-strewn bed, flow down
To mighty Amazon, the river-king,
And, mingled with his all-engulfing stream,
Go to do battle with proud Ocean's self,
And drive him back even from his own domain.
There is an Indian village; all around,
The dark, eternal, boundless forest spreads
Its varied foliage. Stately palm-trees rise
On every side, and numerous trees unknown
Save by strange names uncouth to English ears.
Here I dwelt awhile the one white man
Among perhaps two hundred living souls.
They pass a peaceful and contented life,
These black-hair'd, red-skinn'd, handsome, half-wild men.
Directed by the sons of Old Castile,
They keep their village and their houses clean;
And on the eve before the Sabbath-day
Assemble all at summons of a bell,
To sweep within and all around their church,
In which next morn they meet, all neatly dress'd,
To pray as they've been taught unto their God.
It was a pleasing sight, that Sabbath morn,
Reminding me of distant, dear-loved home.
On one side knelt the men, their simple dress
A shirt and trousers of coarse cotton cloth:
On the other side were women and young girls,
Their glossy tresses braided with much taste,
And on their necks all wore a kerchief gay,
And some a knot of riband in their hair.
How like they look'd, save in their dusky skin,
To a fair group of English village maids!
Yet far superior in their graceful forms;
For their free growth no straps or bands impede,
But simple food, free air, and daily baths
And exercise, give all that Nature asks
To mould a beautiful and healthy frame.
Each day some labour calls them. Now they goTo fell the forest's pride, or in canoeWith hook, and spear, and arrow, to catch fish;Or seek the various products of the wood,To make their baskets or their hanging beds.The women dig the mandiocca root,And with much labour make of it their bread.These plant the young shoots in the fertile earth—Earth all untill'd, to which the plough, or spade,Or rake, or harrow, are alike unknown.The young girls carry water on their headsIn well-formed pitchers, just like Cambrian maids;And all each morn and eve wash in the stream,And sport like mermaids in the sparkling wave.
Each day some labour calls them. Now they go
To fell the forest's pride, or in canoe
With hook, and spear, and arrow, to catch fish;
Or seek the various products of the wood,
To make their baskets or their hanging beds.
The women dig the mandiocca root,
And with much labour make of it their bread.
These plant the young shoots in the fertile earth—
Earth all untill'd, to which the plough, or spade,
Or rake, or harrow, are alike unknown.
The young girls carry water on their heads
In well-formed pitchers, just like Cambrian maids;
And all each morn and eve wash in the stream,
And sport like mermaids in the sparkling wave.
The village is laid out with taste and skill:In the midst a spacious square, where stands the church,And narrow streets diverging all around.Between the houses, filling up each space,The broad, green-leaved, luxuriant plantain grows,Bearing huge bunches of most wholesome fruit;The orange too is there, and grateful lime;The Inga pendent hangs its yard-long pods(Whose flowers attract the fairy humming-birds);The guava, and the juicy, sweet cashew,And a most graceful palm, which bears a fruitIn bright red clusters, much esteem'd for food;And there are many more which IndiansEsteem, and which have only Indian names.The houses are of posts fill'd up with mud,Smooth'd, and wash'd over with a pure white clay;A palm-tree's spreading leaves supply a thatchImpervious to the winter's storms and rain.No nail secures the beams or rafters, allIs from the forest, whose lithe, pendent cordsBind them into a firm enduring mass.From the tough fibre of a fan-palm's leafThey twist a cord to make their hammock-bed,Their bow-string, line, and net for catching fish.Their food is simple—fish and cassava-bread,With various fruits, and sometimes forest game,All season'd with hot, pungent, fiery peppers.Sauces and seasonings too, and drinks they have,Made from the mandiocca's poisonous juice;And but one foreign luxury, which is salt.Salt here is money: daily they bring to meCassava cakes, or fish, or ripe bananas,Or birds or insects, fowls or turtles' eggs,And still they ask for salt. Two teacups-fullBuy a large basket of cassava cakes,A great bunch of bananas, or a fowl.
The village is laid out with taste and skill:
In the midst a spacious square, where stands the church,
And narrow streets diverging all around.
Between the houses, filling up each space,
The broad, green-leaved, luxuriant plantain grows,
Bearing huge bunches of most wholesome fruit;
The orange too is there, and grateful lime;
The Inga pendent hangs its yard-long pods
(Whose flowers attract the fairy humming-birds);
The guava, and the juicy, sweet cashew,
And a most graceful palm, which bears a fruit
In bright red clusters, much esteem'd for food;
And there are many more which Indians
Esteem, and which have only Indian names.
The houses are of posts fill'd up with mud,
Smooth'd, and wash'd over with a pure white clay;
A palm-tree's spreading leaves supply a thatch
Impervious to the winter's storms and rain.
No nail secures the beams or rafters, all
Is from the forest, whose lithe, pendent cords
Bind them into a firm enduring mass.
From the tough fibre of a fan-palm's leaf
They twist a cord to make their hammock-bed,
Their bow-string, line, and net for catching fish.
Their food is simple—fish and cassava-bread,
With various fruits, and sometimes forest game,
All season'd with hot, pungent, fiery peppers.
Sauces and seasonings too, and drinks they have,
Made from the mandiocca's poisonous juice;
And but one foreign luxury, which is salt.
Salt here is money: daily they bring to me
Cassava cakes, or fish, or ripe bananas,
Or birds or insects, fowls or turtles' eggs,
And still they ask for salt. Two teacups-full
Buy a large basket of cassava cakes,
A great bunch of bananas, or a fowl.
One day they made a festa, and, just likeOur villagers at home, they drank much beer,(Beer made from roasted mandiocca cakes,)Call'd here "shirac," by others "caxiri,"But just like beer in flavour and effect;And then they talked much, shouted and sang,And men and maids all danced in a ringWith much delight, like children at their play.For music they've small drums and reed-made fifes.And vocal chants, monotonous and shrill,To which they'll dance for hours without fatigue.The children of small growth are naked, andThe boys and men wear but a narrow cloth.How I delight to see those naked boys!Their well-form'd limbs, their bright, smooth, red-brown skin,And every motion full of grace and health;And as they run, and race, and shout, and leap,Or swim and dive beneath the rapid stream,Or, all bareheaded in the noonday sun,Creep stealthily, with blowpipe or with bow,To shoot small birds or swiftly gliding fish,I pity English boys; their active limbsCramp'd and confined in tightly-fitting clothes;Their toes distorted by the shoemaker,Their foreheads aching under heavy hats,And all their frame by luxury enervate.But how much more I pity English maids,Their waist, and chest, and bosom all confinedBy that vile torturing instrument called stays!
One day they made a festa, and, just like
Our villagers at home, they drank much beer,
(Beer made from roasted mandiocca cakes,)
Call'd here "shirac," by others "caxiri,"
But just like beer in flavour and effect;
And then they talked much, shouted and sang,
And men and maids all danced in a ring
With much delight, like children at their play.
For music they've small drums and reed-made fifes.
And vocal chants, monotonous and shrill,
To which they'll dance for hours without fatigue.
The children of small growth are naked, and
The boys and men wear but a narrow cloth.
How I delight to see those naked boys!
Their well-form'd limbs, their bright, smooth, red-brown skin,
And every motion full of grace and health;
And as they run, and race, and shout, and leap,
Or swim and dive beneath the rapid stream,
Or, all bareheaded in the noonday sun,
Creep stealthily, with blowpipe or with bow,
To shoot small birds or swiftly gliding fish,
I pity English boys; their active limbs
Cramp'd and confined in tightly-fitting clothes;
Their toes distorted by the shoemaker,
Their foreheads aching under heavy hats,
And all their frame by luxury enervate.
But how much more I pity English maids,
Their waist, and chest, and bosom all confined
By that vile torturing instrument called stays!
And thus these people pass their simple lives.They are a peaceful race; few serious crimesAre known among them; they nor rob nor murder,And all the complicated villaniesOf man called civilised are here unknown.Yet think not I would place, as some would do,The civilised below the savage man;Or wish that we could retrograde, and liveAs did our forefathers ere Cæsar came.'Tis true the miseries, the wants and woes,The poverty, the crimes, the broken hearts,The intense mental agonies that leadSome men to self-destruction, someTo end their days within a madhouse cell,The thousand curses that gold brings upon us,The long death-struggle for the means to live,—All these the savage knows and suffers not.But then the joys, the pleasures and delights,That the well-cultivated mind enjoys;The appreciation of the beautifulIn nature and in art; the boundless rangeOf pleasure and of knowledge books afford;The constant change of incident and sceneThat makes us live a life in every year;—All these the savage knows not and enjoys not.Still we may ask, 'Does stern necessityCompel that this great good must co-existFor ever with that monstrous mass of ill?Must millions suffer these dread miseries,While but a few enjoy the grateful fruits?'For are there not, confined in our dense towns,And scattered over our most fertile fields,Millions of men who live a lower life—Lower in physical and moral health—Than the Red Indian of these trackless wilds?Have we not thousands too who live a lifeMore low, through eager longing after gold,—Whose thoughts, from morn to night, from night to morn,Are—how to get more gold?What know such men of intellectual joys?They've but one joy—the joy of getting gold.In nature's wondrous charms they've no delight,The one thing beautiful for them is—gold.Thoughts of the great of old which books contain,The poet's and the historian's fervid page,Or all the wonders science brings to light,For them exist not. They've no time to spendIn such amusements: 'Time,' say they, 'is gold.'And if they hear of some immortal deed,Some noble sacrifice of power or fortuneTo save a friend or spotless reputation,—A deed that moistens sympathetic eyes,And makes us proud we have such fellow-men,—They say, 'Who make such sacrifice are fools,For what is life without one's hard-earn'd gold?'Rather than live a man like one of these,I'd be an Indian here, and live contentTo fish, and hunt, and paddle my canoe,And see my children grow, like young wild fawns,In health of body and in peace of mind,Rich without wealth, and happy without gold!"
And thus these people pass their simple lives.
They are a peaceful race; few serious crimes
Are known among them; they nor rob nor murder,
And all the complicated villanies
Of man called civilised are here unknown.
Yet think not I would place, as some would do,
The civilised below the savage man;
Or wish that we could retrograde, and live
As did our forefathers ere Cæsar came.
'Tis true the miseries, the wants and woes,
The poverty, the crimes, the broken hearts,
The intense mental agonies that lead
Some men to self-destruction, some
To end their days within a madhouse cell,
The thousand curses that gold brings upon us,
The long death-struggle for the means to live,—
All these the savage knows and suffers not.
But then the joys, the pleasures and delights,
That the well-cultivated mind enjoys;
The appreciation of the beautiful
In nature and in art; the boundless range
Of pleasure and of knowledge books afford;
The constant change of incident and scene
That makes us live a life in every year;—
All these the savage knows not and enjoys not.
Still we may ask, 'Does stern necessity
Compel that this great good must co-exist
For ever with that monstrous mass of ill?
Must millions suffer these dread miseries,
While but a few enjoy the grateful fruits?'
For are there not, confined in our dense towns,
And scattered over our most fertile fields,
Millions of men who live a lower life—
Lower in physical and moral health—
Than the Red Indian of these trackless wilds?
Have we not thousands too who live a life
More low, through eager longing after gold,—
Whose thoughts, from morn to night, from night to morn,
Are—how to get more gold?
What know such men of intellectual joys?
They've but one joy—the joy of getting gold.
In nature's wondrous charms they've no delight,
The one thing beautiful for them is—gold.
Thoughts of the great of old which books contain,
The poet's and the historian's fervid page,
Or all the wonders science brings to light,
For them exist not. They've no time to spend
In such amusements: 'Time,' say they, 'is gold.'
And if they hear of some immortal deed,
Some noble sacrifice of power or fortune
To save a friend or spotless reputation,—
A deed that moistens sympathetic eyes,
And makes us proud we have such fellow-men,—
They say, 'Who make such sacrifice are fools,
For what is life without one's hard-earn'd gold?'
Rather than live a man like one of these,
I'd be an Indian here, and live content
To fish, and hunt, and paddle my canoe,
And see my children grow, like young wild fawns,
In health of body and in peace of mind,
Rich without wealth, and happy without gold!"
A. W.
Javíta,March, 1851.
I had gone on here in my regular routine some time, when one morning, on getting up, I found none of the Indians, and no fire in the verandah. Thinking they had gone out early to hunt or fish, as they sometimes did, I lit the fire and got my breakfast, but still no sign of any of them. Looking about, I found that their hammocks, knives, an earthen pan, and a few other articles, were all gone, and that nothing was left in the house but what was my own. I was now convinced that they had run away in the night, and left me to get on as I could. They had been rather uneasy for some days past, asking me when I meant to go back. They did not like being among people whose language they could not speak, and hadbeen lately using up an enormous quantity of farinha, hoping when they had finished the last basket that I should be unable to purchase any more in the village, and should therefore be obliged to return. The day before I had just bought a fresh basket, and the sight of that appears to have supplied the last stimulus necessary to decide the question, and make them fly from the strange land and still stranger white man, who spent all his time in catching insects, and wasting good caxaça by putting fish and snakes into it. However, there was now nothing to be done, so I took my insect-net, locked up my house, put the key (an Indian-made wooden one) in my pocket, and started off for the forest.
I had luckily, a short time before, bought a fine Venezuelan cheese and some dried beef, so that, with plenty of cassava-bread and plantains, I could get on very well. In the evening some of my usual visitors among the Indians dropped in, and were rather surprised to see me lighting my fire and preparing my dinner; and on my explaining the circumstances to them, they exclaimed that my Indians were "mala gente" (bad fellows), and intimated that they had always thought them no better than they should be. I got some of the boys to fetch me water from the river, and to bring me in a stock of fuel, and then, with coffee and cheese, roasted plantains and cassava-bread, I lived luxuriously. My coffee, however, was just finished, and in a day or two I had none. This I could hardly put up with without a struggle, so I went down to the cottage of an old Indian who could speak a little Spanish, and begged him, "por amor de Dios," to get me some coffee from a small plantation he had. There were some ripe berries on the trees, the sun was shining out, and he promised to set his little girl to work immediately. This was about ten in the morning. I went into the forest, and by four returned, and found that my coffee was ready. It had been gathered, the pulp washed off, dried in the sun (the longest part of the business), husked, roasted, and pounded in a mortar; and in half an hour more I enjoyed one of the most delicious cups of coffee I have ever tasted.
As I wanted to remain a fortnight longer, I tried to persuade one of the brown damsels of the village to come and make my fire and cook for me; but, strange to say, not one would venture, though in the other villages of the Rio Negro I mightat any moment have had my choice of half a dozen; and I was forced to be my own cook and housemaid for the rest of my stay in Javíta.
There was now in the village an old Indian trader who had come from Medina, a town at the foot of the Andes, near Bogotá, and from him and some other Indians I obtained much information relative to that part of the country, and the character of the streams that flow from the mountains down to the Orinooko. He informed me that he had ascended by the river Muco, which enters the Orinooko above the Falls of Maypures, and by which he had reached a point within twenty miles of the upper waters of the Meta, opposite Medina. The river Muco had no falls or obstructions to navigation, and all the upper part of its course flowed through an open country, and had fine sandy beaches; so that between this river and the Guaviare is the termination of the great forest of the Amazon valley.
The weather was now terribly wet. For successive days and nights rain was incessant, and a few hours of sunshine was a rarity. Insects were few, and those I procured it was almost impossible to dry. In the drying box they got destroyed by mould, and if placed in the open air and exposed to the sun minute flies laid eggs upon them, and they were soon eaten up by maggots. The only way I could preserve them was to hang them up some time every evening and morning over my fire. I now began to regret more than ever my loss of the fine season, as I was convinced that I could have reaped a splendid harvest. I had, too, just began to initiate the Indian boys into catching beetles for me, and was accumulating a very nice collection. Every evening three or four would come in with their treasures in pieces of bamboo, or carefully tied up in leaves. I purchased all they brought, giving a fish-hook each; and among many common I generally found some curious and rare species.Coleoptera, generally so scarce in the forest districts of the Amazon and Rio Negro, seemed here to become more abundant, owing perhaps to our approach to the margins of the great forest, and the plains of the Orinooko.
I prepared to leave Javíta with much regret. Although, considering the season, I had done well, I knew that had I been earlier I might have done much better. In April I hadarranged to go up the unexplored Uaupés with Senhor L., and even the prospect of his conversation was agreeable after the weary solitude I was exposed to here.
I would, however, strongly recommend Javíta to any naturalist wishing for a good unexplored locality in South America. It is easily reached from the West Indies to Angostura, and thence up the Orinooko and Atabápo. A pound's worth of fish-hooks, and five pounds laid out in salt, beads, and calico, will pay all expenses there for six months. The traveller should arrive in September, and can then stay till March, and will have the full benefit of the whole of the dry season. The insects alone would well repay any one; the fishes are also abundant, and very new and interesting; and, as my collections were lost on the voyage home, they would have all the advantage of novelty.
On the 31st of March I left Javíta, the Commissario having sent five or six Indians to carry my luggage, four of whom were to proceed with me to Tómo. The Indians of São Carlos, Tómo, and Maróa had been repairing their part of the road, and were returning home, so some of them agreed to go with me in the place of the Javítanos. They had found in the forest a number of the harlequin beetles (Acrocinus longimanus), which they offered me, carefully wrapped up in leaves; I bought five for a few fish-hooks each. On arriving at Pimichin the little river presented a very different appearance from what it had when I last saw it. It was now brim-full, and the water almost reached up to our shed, which had before been forty yards off, up a steep rocky bank. Before my men ran away I had sent two of them to Tómo to bring my canoe to Pimichin, the river having risen enough to allow it to come up, and I now found it here. They had taken a canoe belonging to Antonio Dias, who had passed Javíta a few days before on his way to São Fernando, so that when he returned he had to borrow another to go home in.
We descended the little river rapidly, and now saw the extraordinary number of bends in it. I took the bearings of thirty with the compass, but then there came on a tremendous storm of wind and rain right in our faces, which rendered it quite impossible to see ahead. Before this had cleared off night came on, so that the remainder of the bends and doubles of the Pimichin river must still remain in obscurity. Thecountry it flows through appears to be a flat sandy tract, covered with a low scrubby vegetation, very like that of the river Cobáti, up which I ascended to the Serra to obtain the cocks of the rock.
It was night when we reached Maróa, and we were nearly passing the village without seeing it. We went to the "casa de nação," rather a better kind of shed than usual, and, making a good fire, passed a comfortable night. The next morning I called on Senhor Carlos Bueno (Charles Good), the dandy Indian Commissario, and did a little business with him. I bought a lot of Indian baskets, gravatánas, quivers, and ururí or curarí poison, and in return gave him some fish-hooks and calico, and, having breakfasted with him, went on to Tómo.
Senhor Antonio Dias was not there, having gone to São Carlos, so I determined to wait a few days for his return, as he had promised to send men with me to Guia. I took up my abode with Senhor Domingos, who was busy superintending the completion of the large vessel before mentioned, in order to get it launched with the high water, which was now within a foot or two of its bottom. I amused myself walking about the campo with my gun, and succeeded in shooting one of the beautiful little black-headed parrots, which have the most brillant green plumage, crimson under-wings, and yellow cheeks; they are only found in these districts, and are rather difficult to obtain. I also got some curious fish to figure,—in particular two large species ofGymnotus, of the group which are not electric.
The Indians had a festa while I was here. They made abundance of "shirac," and kept up their dancing for thirty hours. The principal peculiarity of it was that they mixed up their civilised dress and their Indian decorations in a most extraordinary manner. They all wore clean trousers and white or striped shirts; but they had also feather-plumes, bead necklaces, and painted faces, which made altogether a rather queer mixture. They also carried their hammocks like scarfs over their shoulders, and had generally hollow cylinders in their hands, used to beat upon the ground in time to the dancing. Others had lances, bows, and wands, ornamented with feathers, producing as they danced in the moonlight a singular and wild appearance.
Senhor Antonio Dias delayed his return, and rather a scenein his domestic circle took place in consequence. As might be expected, the ladies did not agree very well together. The elder one in particular was very jealous of the Indian girls, and took every opportunity of ill-treating them, and now that the master was absent went, I suppose, to greater lengths than usual; and the consequence was, one of the girls ran away. This was an unexpecteddénouement, and they were in a great state of alarm, for the girl was a particular favourite of Senhor Antonio's, and if he returned before she came back he was not likely to be very delicate in showing his displeasure. The girl had gone off in a canoe with a child about a year old; the night had been stormy and wet, but that sort of thing will not stop an Indian. Messengers were sent after her, but she was not to be found; and then the old lady and her daughter went off themselves in a tremendous rain, but with no better success. One resource more, however, remained, and they resolved to apply to the Saints. Senhor Domingos was sent to bring the image of St. Antonio from the church. This saint is supposed to have especial power over things lost, but the manner of securing his influence is rather singular:—the poor saint is tied round tightly with a cord and laid on his back on the floor, and it is believed that in order to obtain deliverance from such durance vile he will cause the lost sheep to return. Thus was the unfortunate St. Antony of Tómo now treated, and laid ignominiously on the earthen floor all night, but without effect; he was obstinate, and nothing was heard of the wanderer. More inquiries were made, but with no result, till two days afterwards Senhor Antonio himself returned accompanied by the girl. She had hid herself in a sitio a short distance from the village, waited for Senhor Antonio's passing, and then joined him, and told her own story first; and so the remainder of the harem got some hard words, and I am inclined to think some hard blows too.
Before leaving Tómo, I purchased a pair of the beautiful feather-work borders, before alluded to, for which I paid £3 in silver dollars. Five Indians were procured to go with me, and at the same time take another small canoe, in which to bring back several articles that Senhor Antonio was much in want of. We paid the men between us, before going, with calicoes and cotton cloth, worth in England about twopence a yard, but here valued at 2s.6d., and soap, beads, knives, andaxes, in the same proportion. On the way, I got these Tómo Indians to give me a vocabulary of their language, which differs from that of the villages above and below them. We paddled by day, and floated down by night; and as the current was now tremendous, we got on so quickly, that in three days we reached Marabitanas, a distance which had taken us nine in going up.
Here I stayed a week with the Commandante, who had invited me when at Guia. I, however, did little in the collecting way: there were no paths in the forest, and no insects, and very few birds worth shooting. I obtained some very curious half-spiny rodent animals, and a pretty white-marked bird, allied to the starlings, which appears here only once a year in flocks, and is called "Ciucí uera" (the star-bird).
The inhabitants of Marabitanas are celebrated for their festas: their lives are spent, half at their festas, and the other half in preparing for them. They consume immense quantities of raw spirit, distilled from cane-juice and from the mandiocca: at a festa which took place while I was here, there was about a hogshead of strong spirit consumed, all drunk raw. In every house, where the dancing takes place, there are three or four persons constantly going round with a bottle and glass, and no one is expected ever to refuse; they keep on the whole night, and the moment you have tasted one glass, another succeeds, and you must at least take a sip of it. The Indians empty the glass every time; and this continues for two or three days. When all is finished, the inhabitants return to their sitios, and commence the preparation of a fresh lot of spirit for the next occasion.
About a fortnight before each festa—which is always on a Saint's day of the Roman Catholic Church—a party of ten or a dozen of the inhabitants go round, in a canoe, to all the sitios and Indian villages within fifty or a hundred miles, carrying the image of the saint, flags, and music. They are entertained at every house, the saint is kissed, and presents are made for the feast; one gives a fowl, another some eggs or a bunch of plantains, another a few coppers. The live animals are frequently promised beforehand for a particular saint; and often, when I have wanted to buy some provisions, I have been assured that "that is St. John's pig," or that "those fowls belong to the Holy Ghost."
Bidding adieu to the Commandante, Senhor Tenente Antonio Filisberto Correio de Araujo, who had treated me with the greatest kindness and hospitality, I proceeded on to Guia, where I arrived about the end of April, hoping to find Senhor L. ready, soon to start for the river Uaupés; but I was again doomed to delay, for a canoe which had been sent to Barra had not yet returned, and we could not start till it came. It was now due, but as it was manned by Indians, only who had no particular interest in hurrying back, it might very well be a month longer. And so it proved, for it did not arrive till the end of May. All that time I could do but little; the season was very wet, and Guia was a poor locality. Fishes were my principal resource, as Senhor L. had a fisherman out every day, to procure us our suppers, and I always had the day's sport brought to me first, to select any species I had not yet seen. In this way I constantly got new kinds, and became more than ever impressed with the extraordinary variety and abundance of the inhabitants of these rivers. I had now figured and described a hundred and sixty species from the Rio Negro alone; I had besides seen many others; and fresh varieties still occurred as abundantly as ever in every new locality. I am convinced that the number of species in the Rio Negro and its tributaries alone would be found to amount to five or six hundred. But the Amazon has most of its fishes peculiar to itself, and so have all its numerous tributaries, especially in their upper waters; so that the number of distinct kinds inhabiting the whole basin of the Amazon must be immense.
FIRST ASCENT OF THE RIVER UAUPÉS.
Rapid Current—An Indian Malocca—The Inmates—A Festival—Paint and Ornaments—Illness—São Jeronymo—Passing the Cataracts—Jauarité—The Tushaúa Calistro—Singular Palm—Birds—Cheap Provisions—Edible Ants, and Earthworms—A Grand Dance—Feather Ornaments—The Snake-dance—The Capí—A State Cigar—Ananárapicóma—Fish—Chegoes—Pass down the Falls—Tame Birds—Orchids—Pium͂s—Eating Dirt—Poisoning—Return to Guia—Manoel Joaquim—Annoying Delays.
Atlength the long-looked for canoe arrived, and we immediately made preparations for our voyage. Fish-hooks and knives and beads were looked out to suit the customers we were going among, and from whom Senhor L. hoped to obtain farinha and sarsaparilla: and I, fish, insects, birds, and all sorts of bows, arrows, blowpipes, baskets, and other Indian curiosities.
On the 3rd of June, at six in the morning, we started. The weather had cleared up a few days before, and was now very fine. We had only two Indians with us, the same who had run away from Javíta, and who had been paid their wages beforehand, so we now made them work it out. Those who had just returned from Barra were not willing to go out again immediately, but we hoped to get plenty on entering the Uaupés. The same afternoon we reached São Joaquim, at the mouth of that river; but as there were no men there, we were obliged to go on, and then commenced our real difficulties, for we had to encounter the powerful current of the overflowing stream. At first some bays, in which there were counter-currents, favoured us; but in more exposed parts, the waters rushed along with such violence, that our two paddles could not possibly move the canoe.
We could only get on by pulling the bushes and creepers and tree-branches which line the margin of the river, now that almost all the adjacent lands were more or less flooded. The next day we cut long hooked poles, by which we could pull and push ourselves along at all difficult points, with more advantage. Sometimes, for miles together, we had to proceed thus,—getting the canoe filled, and ourselves covered, with stinging and biting ants of fifty different species, each producing its own peculiar effect, from a gentle tickle to an acute sting; and which, getting entangled in our hair and beards, and creeping over all parts of our bodies under our clothes, were not the most agreeable companions. Sometimes, too, we would encounter swarms of wasps, whose nests were concealed among the leaves, and who always make a most furious attack upon intruders. The naked bodies of the Indians offered no defence against their stings, and they several times suffered while we escaped. Nor are these the only inconveniences attending an up-stream voyage in the time of high flood, for all the river-banks being overflowed, it is only at some rocky point which still keeps above water that a fire can be made; and as these are few and far between, we frequently had to pass the whole day on farinha and water, with a piece of cold fish or a pacova, if we were so lucky as to have any. All these points, or sleeping places, are well known to the traders in the river, so that whenever we reached one, at whatever hour of the day or night, we stopped to make our coffee and rest a little, knowing that we should only get to another haven after eight or ten hours of hard pulling and paddling.
On the second day we found a small "Sucurujú" (Eunectes murinus), about a yard long, sunning itself on a bush over the water; one of our Indians shot it with an arrow, and when we stayed for the night roasted it for supper. I tasted a piece, and found it excessively tough and glutinous, but without any disagreeable flavour; and well stewed, it would, I have no doubt, be very good. Having stopped at a sitio we purchased a fowl, which, boiled with rice, made us an excellent supper.
On the 7th we entered a narrow winding channel, branching from the north bank of the river, and in about an hour reached a "malocca," or native Indian lodge, the first we had encountered. It was a large, substantial building, near a hundredfeet long, by about forty wide and thirty high, very strongly constructed of round, smooth, barked timbers, and thatched with the fan-shaped leaves of the Caraná palm. One end was square, with a gable, the other circular; and the eaves, hanging over the low walls, reached nearly to the ground. In the middle was a broad aisle, formed by the two rows of the principal columns supporting the roof, and between these and the sides were other rows of smaller and shorter timbers; the whole of them were firmly connected by longitudinal and transverse beams at the top, supporting the rafters, and were all bound together with much symmetry by sipós.
Projecting inwards from the walls on each side were short partitions of palm-thatch, exactly similar in arrangement to the boxes in a London eating-house, or those of a theatre. Each of these is the private apartment of a separate family, who thus live in a sort of patriarchal community. In the side aisles are the farinha ovens, tipitís for squeezing the mandiocca, huge pans and earthen vessels for making caxirí, and other large articles, which appear to be in common; while in every separate apartment are the small pans, stools, baskets, redes, water-pots, weapons, and ornaments of the occupants. The centre aisle remains unoccupied, and forms a fine walk through the house. At the circular end is a cross partition or railing about five feet high, cutting off rather more than the semicircle, but with a wide opening in the centre: this forms the residence of the chief or head of the malocca, with his wives and children; the more distant relations residing in the other part of the house. The door at the gable end is very wide and lofty, that at the circular end is smaller, and these are the only apertures to admit light and air. The upper part of the gable is loosely covered with palm-leaves hung vertically, through which the smoke of the numerous wood fires slowly percolates, giving, however, in its passage a jetty lustre to the whole of the upper part of the roof.
On entering this house, I was delighted to find myself at length in the presence of the true denizens of the forest. An old and a young man and two women were the only occupiers, the rest being out on their various pursuits. The women were absolutely naked; but on the entrance of the "brancos" they slipped on a petticoat, with which in these lower parts of the river they are generally provided but never use except onsuch occasions. Their hair was but moderately long, and they were without any ornament but strongly knitted garters, tightly laced immediately below the knee.
It was the men, however, who presented the most novel appearance, as different from all the half-civilised races among whom I had been so long living, as they could be if I had been suddenly transported to another quarter of the globe. Their hair was carefully parted in the middle, combed behind the ears, and tied behind in a long tail reaching a yard down the back. The hair of this tail was firmly bound with a long cord formed of monkeys' hair, very soft and pliable. On the top of the head was stuck a comb, ingeniously constructed of palm-wood and grass, and ornamented with little tufts of toucans' rump feathers at each end; and the ears were pierced, and a small piece of straw stuck in the hole; altogether giving a most feminine appearance to the face, increased by the total absence of beard or whiskers, and by the hair of the eyebrows being almost entirely plucked out. A small strip of "tururí" (the inner bark of a tree) passed between the legs, and secured to a string round the waist, with a pair of knitted garters, constituted their simple dress.
The young man was lazily swinging in a maqueira, but disappeared soon after we entered; the elder one was engaged making one of the flat hollow baskets, a manufacture peculiar to this district. He continued quietly at his occupation, answering the questions Senhor L. put to him about the rest of the inhabitants in a very imperfect "Lingoa Geral," which language is comparatively little known in this river, and that only in the lower and more frequented parts. As we wanted to procure one or two men to go with us, we determined to stay here for the night. We succeeded in purchasing for a few fish-hooks some fresh fish, which another Indian brought in: and then prepared our dinner and coffee, and brought our maqueiras up to the house, hanging them in the middle aisle, to pass the night there. About dusk many more Indians, male and female, arrived; fires were lighted in the several compartments, pots put on with fish or game for supper, and fresh mandiocca cakes made. I now saw several of the men with their most peculiar and valued ornament—a cylindrical, opaque, white stone, looking like marble, but which is really quartz imperfectly crystallized. These stones are from four to eight inches long,and about an inch in diameter. They are ground round, and flat at the ends, a work of great labour, and are each pierced with a hole at one end, through which a string is inserted, to suspend it round the neck. It appears almost incredible that they should make this hole in so hard a substance without any iron instrument for the purpose. What they are said to use is the pointed flexible leaf-shoot of the large wild plantain, triturating with fine sand and a little water; and I have no doubt it is, as it is said to be, a labour of years. Yet it must take a much longer time to pierce that which the Tushaúa wears as the symbol of his authority, for it is generally of the largest size, and is worn transversely across the breast, for which purpose the hole is bored lengthways from one end to the other, an operation which I was informed sometimes occupies two lives. The stones themselves are procured from a great distance up the river, probably from near its sources at the base of the Andes; they are therefore highly valued, and it is seldom the owners can be induced to part with them, the chiefs scarcely ever. I here purchased a club of hard red wood for a small mirror, a comb for half-a-dozen small fish-hooks, and some other trifling articles.
A portion only of the inhabitants arrived that night, as when traders come they are afraid of being compelled to go with them, and so hide themselves. Many of the worst characters in the Rio Negro come to trade in this river, force the Indians, by threats of shooting them, into their canoes, and sometimes even do not scruple to carry their threats into execution, they being here quite out of reach of even that minute portion of the law which still struggles for existence in the Rio Negro.
We passed the night in the malocca, surrounded by the naked Indians hanging round their fires, which sent a fitful light up into the dark smoke-filled roof. A torrent of rain poured without, and I could not help admiring the degree of sociality and comfort in numerous families thus living together in patriarchal harmony. The next morning Senhor L. succeeded in persuading one Indian to earn a "saía" (petticoat) for his wife, and embark with us, and so we bade adieu to Assaí Paraná (Assaí river). On lifting up the mat covering of our canoe, I found lying comfortably coiled up on the top of my box a fine young boa, of a species of which I possessed two live specimens at Guía: he had probably fallen in unperceived during our passage among the bushes on the river-side. In the afternoon we reached another village, also situated up a narrow igaripé, and consisting of a house and two maloccas at some distance from it. The inhabitants had gone to a neighbouring village, where there was caxirí and dancing, and two women only were left behind with some children. About these houses were several parrots, macaws, and curassow-birds, which all these Indians breed in great numbers. The next day we reached Ananárapicóma, or "Pine-apple Point," the village where the dance was taking place. It consisted of several small houses besides the large malocca, many of the Indians who have been with traders to the Rio Negro imitating them in using separate dwellings.
On entering the great malocca a most extraordinary and novel scene presented itself. Some two hundred men, women, and children were scattered about the house, lying in the maqueiras, squatting on the ground, or sitting on the small painted stools, which are made only by the inhabitants of this river. Almost all were naked and painted, and wearing their various feathers and other ornaments. Some were walking or conversing, and others were dancing, or playing small fifes and whistles. The regular festa had been broken up that morning; the chiefs and principal men had put off their feather head-dresses, but as caxirí still remained, the young men and women continued dancing. They were painted over their whole bodies in regular patterns of a diamond or diagonal character, with black, red, and yellow colours; the former, a purple or blue black, predominating. The face was ornamented in various styles, generally with bright red in bold stripes or spots, a large quantity of the colour being applied to each ear, and running down on the sides of the cheeks and neck, producing a very fearful and sanguinary appearance. The grass in the ears was now decorated with a little tuft of white downy feathers, and some in addition had three little strings of beads from a hole pierced in the lower lip. All wore the garters, which were now generally painted yellow. Most of the young women who danced had besides a small apron of beads of about eight inches by six inches, arranged in diagonal patterns with much taste; besides this, the paint on their naked bodies was their only ornament; they had not even the comb in their hair, which the men are never without.
The men and boys appropriated all the ornaments, thus reversing the custom of civilised countries and imitating nature, who invariably decorates the male sex with the most brilliant colours and most remarkable ornaments. On the head all wore a coronet of bright red and yellow toucans' feathers, set in a circlet of plaited straw. The comb in the hair was ornamented with feathers, and frequently a bunch of white heron's plumes attached to it fell gracefully down the back. Round the neck or over one shoulder were large necklaces of many folds of white or red beads, as well as the white cylindrical stone hung on the middle of a string of some black shining seeds.
The ends of the monkey-hair cords which tied the hair were ornamented with little plumes, and from the arm hung a bunch of curiously-shaped seeds, ornamented with bright coloured feathers attached by strings of monkeys' hair. Round the waist was one of their most valued ornaments, possessed by comparatively few,—the girdle of onças' teeth. And lastly, tied round the ankles were large bunches of a curious hard fruit, which produce a rattling sound in the dance. In their hands some carried a bow and a bundle of curabís, or war-arrows; others a murucú, or spear of hard polished wood, or an oval painted gourd, filled with small stones and attached to a handle, which, being shaken at regular intervals in the dance, produced a rattling accompaniment to the leg ornaments and the song.
The wild and strange appearance of these handsome, naked, painted Indians, with their curious ornaments and weapons, the stamp and song and rattle which accompanies the dance, the hum of conversation in a strange language, the music of fifes and flutes and other instruments of reed, bone, and turtles' shells, the large calabashes of caxirí constantly carried about, and the great smoke-blackened gloomy house, produced an effect to which no description can do justice, and of which the sight of half-a-dozen Indians going through their dances for show, gives but a very faint idea.
I stayed looking on a considerable time, highly delighted at such an opportunity of seeing these interesting people in their most characteristic festivals. I was myself a great object of admiration, principally on account of my spectacles, which they saw for the first time and could not at all understand.A hundred bright pairs of eyes were continually directed on me from all sides, and I was doubtless the great subject of conversation. An old man brought me three ripe pine-apples, for which I gave him half-a-dozen small hooks, and he was very well contented.
Senhor L. was conversing with many of the Indians, with whom he was well acquainted, and was arranging with one to go up a branch of the river, several days' journey, to purchase some salsa and farinha for him. I succeeded in buying a beautiful ornamented murucú, the principal insignia of the Tushaúa, or chief. He was very loth to part with it, and I had to give an axe and a large knife, of which he was much in want. I also bought two cigar-holders, about two feet long, in which a gigantic cigar is placed and handed round on these occasions. The next morning, after making our payments for the articles we had purchased, we went to bid our adieus to the chief. A small company who had come from some distance were taking their leave at the same time, going round the great house in Indian file, and speaking in a muttering tone to each head of a family. First came the old men bearing lances and shields of strong wicker-work, then the younger ones with their bows and arrows, and lastly the old and young women carrying their infants and the few household utensils they had brought with them. At these festivals drink alone is provided, in immense quantities, each party bringing a little mandiocca-cake or fish for its consumption, which, while the caxirí lasts, is very little. The paint on their bodies is very durable, for though they never miss washing two or three times a day, it lasts a week or a fortnight before it quite disappears.
Leaving Ananárapicóma, we arrived the same evening at Mandii Paraná, where there was also a malocca, which, owing to the great rise of the river, could only be reached by wading up to the middle through the flooded forest. I accordingly stayed to superintend the making of a fire, which the soaking rain we had had all the afternoon rendered a somewhat difficult matter, while Senhor L. went with an Indian to the house to arrange some "negocio" and obtain fish for supper. We stayed here for the night, and the next morning the Indians came down in a body to the canoe, and made some purchases of fish-hooks, beads, mirrors, cloth for trousers, etc., of SenhorL., to be paid in farinha, fowls, and other articles on our return. I also ordered a small canoe as a specimen, and some sieves and fire-fanners, which I paid for in similar trifles; for these Indians are so accustomed to receive payment beforehand, that without doing so you cannot depend upon their making anything. The next day, the 12th of June, we reached Sâo Jeronymo, situated about a mile below the first and most dangerous of the Falls of the Uaupés.
For the last five days I had been very ill with dysentery and continual pains in the stomach, brought on, I believe, by eating rather incautiously of the fat and delicious fish, the white Pirahiba or Laulau, three or four times consecutively without vegetable food. Here the symptoms became rather aggravated, and though not at all inclined to despond in sickness, yet as I knew this disease to be a very fatal one in tropical climates, and I had no medicines or even proper food of any kind, I certainly did begin to be a little alarmed. The worst of it was that I was continually hungry, but could not eat or drink the smallest possible quantity of anything without pains of the stomach and bowels immediately succeeding, which lasted several hours. The diarrhœa too was continual, with evacuations of slime and blood, which my diet of the last few days, of tapioca-gruel and coffee, seemed rather to have increased.
I remained here most of the day in my maqueira, but in the afternoon some fish were brought in, and finding among them a couple of new species, I set to work figuring them, determined to let no opportunity pass of increasing my collections. This village has no malocca, but a number of small houses; having been founded by the Portuguese before the Independence. It is pleasantly situated on the sloping bank of the river, which is about half a mile wide, with rather high land opposite, and a view up to the narrow channel, where the waters are bounding and foaming and leaping high in the air with the violence of the fall, or more properly rapid.
There was a young Brazilian "negociante" and his wife residing in this village, and as he was also about ascending the river to fetch farinha, we agreed to go together. The next morning we accordingly started, proceeding along the shore to near the fall, where we crossed among boiling foam and whirling eddies, and entered into a small igaripé, where thecanoe was entirely unloaded, all the cargo carried along a rugged path through the forest, and the canoe taken round a projecting point, where the violence of the current and the heaving waves of the fall render it impossible for anything but a small empty obá to pass, and even that with great difficulty.
The path terminated at a narrow channel, through which a part of the river in the wet season flows, but which in the summer is completely dry. Were it not for this stream, the passage of the rapids in the wet season would be quite impossible; for though the actual fall of the water is trifling, its violence is inconceivable. The average width of the river may be stated at near three times that of the Thames at London; and it is in the wet season very deep and rapid. At the fall it is enclosed in a narrow sloping rocky gorge, about the width of the middle arch of London Bridge, or even less. I need say no more to prove the impossibility of ascending such a channel. There are immense whirlpools which engulf large canoes. The waters roll like ocean waves, and leap up at intervals, forty or fifty feet into the air, as if great subaqueous explosions were taking place.
Presently the Indians appeared with our canoe, and, assisted by a dozen more who came to help us, pulled it up through the shallows, where the water was less violent. Then came another difficult point; and we plunged again into the forest with half the Indians carrying our cargo, while the remainder went with the canoe. There were several other dangerous places, and two more disembarkations and land carriages, the last for a considerable distance. Above the main fall the river is suddenly widened out into a kind of a lake, filled with rocky islands, among which are a confusion of minor falls and rapids. However, having plenty of Indians to assist us, we passed all these dangers by a little after midday, and reached a malocca, where we stayed for the afternoon repairing the wear and tear of the palm-mats and toldas, and cleaning our canoe and arranging our cargo, ready to start the next morning.
In two days more we reached another village, called Jukeíra Picóma, or Salt Point, where we stayed a day. I was well satisfied to find myself here considerably better, owing, I believe, to my having tried fasting as a last resource: for twodays I had only taken a little farinha gruel once in the twenty-four hours. In a day and a half from Jukeíra we reached Jauarité, a village situated just below the caxoeira of the same name, the second great rapid on the Uaupés. Here we had determined to stay some days and then return, as the caxoeira is very dangerous to pass, and above it the river, for many days' journey, is a succession of rapids and strong currents, which render the voyage up at this season in the highest degree tedious and disagreeable. We accordingly disembarked our cargo into a house, or rather shed, near the shore, made for the accommodation of traders, which we cleaned and took possession of, and felt ourselves quite comfortable after the annoyances we had been exposed to in reaching this place. We then walked up to the malocca, to pay a visit to the Tushaúa. This house was a noble building of its kind, being one hundred and fifteen feet long, seventy-five wide, and about twenty-five feet high, the roof and upper timbers being black as jet with the smokes of many years. There were besides about a dozen private cottages, forming a small village. Scattered around were immense numbers of the Pupunha Palm (Guilielma speciosa), the fruit of which forms an important part of the food of these people during the season; it was now just beginning to ripen. The Tushaúa was rather a respectable-looking man, the possessor of a pair of trousers and a shirt, which he puts on in honour of white visitors. Senhor L., however, says he is one of the greatest rogues on the river, and will not trust him, as he does most of the other Indians, with goods beforehand. He rejoices in the name of Calistro, and pleased me much by his benevolent countenance and quiet dignified manner. He is said to be the possessor of great riches in the way of oncas' teeth and feathers, the result of his wars upon the Macús and other tribes of the tributary rivers; but these he will not show to the whites, for fear of being made to sell them. Behind the malocca I was pleased to see a fine broad path, leading into the forest to the several mandiocca rhossas. The next morning early I went with my net to explore it, and found it promise pretty well for insects, considering the season. I was greatly delighted at meeting in it the lovely clear-winged butterfly allied to theEsmeralda, that I had taken so sparingly at Javíta; and I also took a specimen of another of the same genus, quite new to me. Aplain-colouredAcrœa, that I had first met with at Jukeíra, was here also very abundant.
In a hollow near a small stream that crossed the path I found growing the singular palm called "Paxiúba barriguda" (the big-bellied paxiuba). It is a fine, tall, rather slender tree, with a head of very elegant curled leaves. At the base of the stem is a conical mass of air-roots, five or six feet high, more or less developed in all the species of this genus. But the peculiar character from which it derives its name is, that the stem at rather more than halfway up swells suddenly out to double its former thickness or more, and after a short distance again contracts, and continues cylindrical to the top. It is only by seeing great numbers of these trees, all with this character more or less palpable, that one can believe it is not an accidental circumstance in the individual tree, instead of being truly characteristic of the species. It is theIriartea ventricosaof Martius.
I tried here to procure some hunters and fishermen, but was not very successful. I had a few fish brought me, and now and then a bird. A curious bird, called anambé, was flying in flocks about the pupunha palms, and after much trouble I succeeded in shooting one, and it proved, as I had anticipated, quite different from theGymnoderus nudicollis, which is a species much resembling it in its flight, and common in all parts of the Rio Negro. I went after them several times, but could not succeed in shooting another; for though they take but short flights, they remain at rest scarcely an instant. About the houses here were several trumpeters, curassow-birds, and those beautiful parrots, the anacás (Derotypus accipitrinus), which all wander and fly about at perfect liberty, but being bred from the nest, always return to be fed. The Uaupés Indians take much delight, and are very successful, in breeding birds and animals of all kinds.
We stayed here a week, and I went daily into the forest when the weather was not very wet, and generally obtained something interesting. I frequently met parties of women and boys, going to and returning from the rhossas. Sometimes they would run into the thicket till I had passed; at other times they would merely stand on one side of the path, with a kind of bashful fear at encountering a white man while in that state of complete nudity, which they know is strange to us.When about the houses in the village however, or coming to fill their water-pots or bathe in the river close to our habitation, they were quite unembarrassed, being, like Eve, "naked and not ashamed." Though some were too fat, most of them had splendid figures, and many of them were very pretty. Before daylight in the morning all were astir, and came to the river to wash. It is the chilliest hour of the twenty-four, and when we were wrapping our sheet or blanket more closely around us, we could hear the plunges and splashings of these early bathers. Rain or wind is all alike to them: their morning bath is never dispensed with.
Fish were here very scarce, and we were obliged to live almost entirely on fowls, which, though very nice when well roasted and with the accompaniment of ham and gravy, are rather tasteless simply boiled or stewed, with no variation in the cookery, and without vegetables. I had now got so thoroughly into the life of this part of the country, that, like everybody else here, I preferred fish to every other article of food. One never tires of it; and I must again repeat that I believe there are fish here superior to any in the world. Our fowls cost us about a penny each, paid in fish-hooks or salt, so that they are not such expensive food as they would be at home. In fact, if a person buys his hooks, salt, and other things in Pará, where they are about half the price they are at Barra, the price of a fowl will not exceed a halfpenny; and fish, pacovas, and other eatables that the country produces, in the same proportion. A basket of farinha, that will last one person very well a month, will cost about threepence; so that with a small expenditure a man may obtain enough to live on. The Indians here made their mandiocca bread very differently from, and very superior to, those of the adjacent rivers. The greater part is tapioca, which they mix with a small quantity of the prepared mandiocca-root, and form a white, gelatinous, granular cake, which with a little use is very agreeable, and is much sought after by all the white traders on the river. Farinha they scarcely ever eat themselves, but make it only to sell; and as they extract the tapioca, which is the pure glutinous portion of the root, to make their own bread, they mix the refuse with a little fresh mandiocca to make farinha, which is thus of a very poor quality; yet such is the state of agriculture on the Rio Negro, that the city of Barradepends in a great measure upon this refuse food of the Indians, and several thousand alqueires are purchased, and most of it sent there, annually.
The principal food of these Indians is fish, and when they have neither this nor any game, they boil a quantity of peppers, in which they dip their bread. At several places where we stopped this was offered to our men, who ate with a relish the intensely burning mess. Yams and sweet potatoes are also abundant, and with pacovas form a large item in their stock of eatables. Then they have the delicious drinks made from the fruits of the assaí, baccába, and patawá palms, as well as several other fruits.
The large saübas and white ants are an occasional luxury, and when nothing else is to be had in the wet season they eat large earth-worms, which, when the lands in which they live are flooded, ascend trees, and take up their abode in the hollow leaves of a species ofTillandsia, where they are often found accumulated by thousands. Nor is it only hunger that makes them eat these worms, for they sometimes boil them with their fish to give it an extra relish.
They consume great quantities of mandiocca in making caxirí for their festas, which are continually taking place. As I had not seen a regular dance, Senhor L. asked the Tushaúa to make some caxirí and invite his friends and vassals to dance, for the white stranger to see. He readily consented, and, as we were to leave in two or three days, immediately sent round a messenger to the houses of the Indians near, to make known the day and request the honour of their company. As the notice was so short, it was only those in the immediate neighbourhood who could be summoned.
On the appointed day numerous preparations were taking place. The young girls came repeatedly to fill their pitchers at the river early in the morning, to complete the preparation of the caxirí. In the forenoon they were busy weeding all round the malocca, and sprinkling water, and sweeping within it. The women were bringing in dry wood for the fires, and the young men were scattered about in groups, plaiting straw coronets or arranging some other parts of their ornaments. In the afternoon, as I came from the forest, I found several engaged in the operation of painting, which others had already completed. The women had painted themselves or eachother, and presented a neat pattern in black and red all over their bodies, some circles and curved lines occurring on their hips and breasts, while on their faces round spots of a bright vermilion seemed to be the prevailing fashion. The juice of a fruit which stains of a fine purplish-black is often poured on the back of the head and neck, and, trickling all down the back, produces what they, no doubt, consider a very elegant dishabille. These spotted beauties were now engaged in performing the same operation for their husbands and sweethearts, some standing, others sitting, and directing the fair artists how to dispose the lines and tints to their liking.
We prepared our supper rather early, and about sunset, just as we had finished, a messenger came to notify to us that the dance had begun, and that the Tushaúa had sent to request our company. We accordingly at once proceeded to the malocca, and entering the private apartment at the circular end, were politely received by the Tushaúa, who was dressed in his shirt and trousers only, and requested us to be seated in maqueiras. After a few minutes' conversation I turned to look at the dancing, which was taking place in the body of the house, in a large clear space round the two central columns. A party of about fifteen or twenty middle-aged men were dancing; they formed a semicircle, each with his left hand on his neighbour's right shoulder. They were all completely furnished with their feather ornaments, and I now saw for the first time the head-dress, or acangatára, which they value highly. This consists of a coronet of red and yellow feathers disposed in regular rows, and firmly attached to a strong woven or plaited band. The feathers are entirely from the shoulders of the great red macaw, but they are not those that the bird naturally possesses, for these Indians have a curious art by which they change the colours of the feathers of many birds.
They pluck out those they wish to paint, and in the fresh wound inoculate with the milky secretion from the skin of a small frog or toad. When the feathers grow again they are of a brilliant yellow or orange colour, without any mixture of blue or green, as in the natural state of the bird; and on the new plumage being again plucked out, it is said always to come of the same colour without any fresh operation. The feathers are renewed but slowly, and it requires a great number of them to make a coronet, so we see the reason why the owner esteemsit so highly, and only in the greatest necessity will part with it.
Attached to the comb on the top of the head is a fine broad plume of the tail-coverts of the white egret, or more rarely of the under tail-coverts of the great harpy eagle. These are large, snowy white, loose and downy, and are almost equal in beauty to a plume of white ostrich feathers. The Indians keep these noble birds in great open houses or cages, feeding them with fowls (of which they will consume two a day), solely for the sake of these feathers; but as the birds are rare, and the young with difficulty secured, the ornament is one that few possess. From the ends of the comb cords of monkeys' hair, decorated with small feathers, hang down the back, and in the ears are the little downy plumes, forming altogether a most imposing and elegant head-dress. All these dancers had also the cylindrical stone of large size, the necklace of white beads, the girdle of onças' teeth, the garters, and ankle-rattles. A very few had besides a most curious ornament, the nature of which completely puzzled me: it was either a necklace or a circlet round the forehead, according to the quantity possessed, and consisted of small curiously curved pieces of a white colour with a delicate rosy tinge, and appearing like shell or enamel. They say they procure them from the Indians of the Japurá and other rivers, and that they are very expensive, three or four pieces only costing an axe. They appear to me more like portions of the lip of a large shell cut into perfectly regular pieces than anything else, but so regular in size and shape, as to make me doubt again that they can be shell, or that Indians can form them.
In their hands each held a lance, or bundle of arrows, or the painted calabash-rattle. The dance consisted simply of a regular sideway step, carrying the performers round and round in a circle; the simultaneous stamping of the feet, the rattle and clash of the leg ornaments and calabashes, and a chant of a few words repeated in a deep tone, producing a very martial and animated effect. At certain intervals the young women joined in, each one taking her place between two men, whom she clasped with each arm round the waist, her head bending forward beneath the outstretched arm above, which, as the women were all of low stature, did not much interfere with their movements. They kept their places for one or tworounds, and then, at a signal of some sort, all left and retired to their seat on stools or on the ground, till the time should come for them again to take their places. The greater part of them wore the "tanga," or small apron of beads, but some were perfectly naked. Several wore large cylindrical copper earrings, so polished as to appear like gold. These and the garters formed their only ornaments,—necklaces, bracelets, and feathers being entirely monopolised by the men. The paint with which they decorate their whole bodies has a very neat effect, and gives them almost the appearance of being dressed, and as such they seem to regard it; and however much those who have not witnessed this strange scene may be disposed to differ from me, I must record my opinion that there is far more immodesty in the transparent and flesh-coloured garments of our stage-dancers, than in the perfect nudity of these daughters of the forest.
In the open space outside the house, a party of young men and boys, who did not possess the full costume, were dancing in the same manner. They soon, however, began what may be called the snake dance. They had made two huge artificial snakes of twigs and bushes bound together with sipós, from thirty to forty feet long and about a foot in diameter, with a head of a bundle of leaves of the Umboöba (Cecropia), painted with bright red colour, making altogether a very formidable-looking reptile. They divided themselves into two parties of twelve or fifteen each, and lifting the snakes on their shoulders, began dancing.
In the dance they imitated the undulations of the serpent, raising the head and twisting the tail. They kept advancing and retreating, keeping parallel to each other, and every time coming nearer to the principal door of the house. At length they brought the heads of the snakes into the very door, but still retreated several times. Those within had now concluded their first dance, and after several more approaches, in came the snakes with a sudden rush, and, parting, went one on the right side and one on the left. They still continued the advancing and retreating step, till at length, each having traversed a semicircle, they met face to face. Here the two snakes seemed inclined to fight, and it was only after many retreatings and brandishings of the head and tail, that they could muster resolution to rush past each other. After one ortwo more rounds, they passed out to the outside of the house, and the dance, which had apparently much pleased all the spectators, was concluded.
During all this time caxirí was being abundantly supplied, three men being constantly employed carrying it to the guests. They came one behind the other down the middle of the house, with a large calabash-full in each hand, half stooping down, with a kind of running dance, and making a curious whirring, humming noise: on reaching the door they parted on each side, distributing their calabashes to whoever wished to drink. In a minute or two they were all empty, and the cupbearers returned to fill them, bringing them every time with the same peculiar forms, which evidently constitute the etiquette of the caxirí-servers. As each of the calabashes holds at least two quarts, the quantity drunk during a whole night that this process is going on must be very great.
Presently the Capí was introduced, an account of which I had had from Senhor L. An old man comes forward with a large newly-painted earthen pot, which he sets down in the middle of the house. He then squats behind it, stirs it about, and takes out two small calabashes-full, which he holds up in each hand. After a moment's pause, two Indians advance with bows and arrows or lances in their hands. Each takes the proffered cup and drinks, makes a wry face, for it is intensely bitter, and stands motionless perhaps half a minute. They then with a start twang their bows, shake their lances, stamp their feet, and return to their seats. The little bowls are again filled, and two others succeed them, with a similar result. Some, however, become more excited, run furiously, lance in hand, as if they would kill an enemy, shout and stamp savagely, and look very warlike and terrible, and then, like the others, return quietly to their places. Most of these receive a hum or shake of applause from the spectators, which is also given at times during the dances.
The house at this time contained at least three hundred men, women, and children; a continual murmuring conversation was kept up, and fifty little fifes and flutes were constantly playing, each on its own account, producing a not very harmonious medley. After dark a large fire was lighted in the middle of the house, and as it blazed up brightly at intervals, illuminating the painted and feather-dressed dancers and the numerousstrange groups in every variety of posture scattered about the great house, I longed for a skilful painter to do justice to a scene so novel, picturesque, and interesting.
A number of fires were also made outside the house, and the young men and boys amused themselves by jumping over them when flaming furiously, an operation which, with their naked bodies, appeared somewhat hazardous. Having been now looking on about three hours, we went to bid adieu to the Tushaúa, previous to retiring to our house, as I did not feel much inclined to stay with them all night. We found him with a few visitors, smoking, which on these occasions is performed in a very ceremonious manner. The cigar is eight or ten inches long and an inch in diameter, made of tobacco pounded and dried, and enclosed in a cylinder made of a large leaf spirally twisted. It is placed in a cigar-holder about two feet long, like a great two-pronged fork. The bottom is pointed, so that when not in use it can be stuck in the ground. This cigar was offered to us, and Senhor L. took a few whiffs for us both, as he is a confirmed smoker. The caxirí was exceedingly good (although the mandiocca-cake of which it is made is chewed by a parcel of old women), and I much pleased the lady of the Tushaúa by emptying the calabash she offered me, and pronouncing it to be "purángareté" (excellent). We then said "Eré" (adieu), and groped our way down the rough path to our river-side house, to be sung to sleep by the hoarse murmur of the cataract. The next morning the dance was still going on, but, as the caxirí was nearly finished, it terminated about nine o'clock, and the various guests took their leave.
During the dance, Bernardo, an Indian of São Jeronymo, arrived from the Rio Apaporis. Senhor L. had sent a message to him by his son (who had come with us) to procure some Indian boys and girls for him, and he now came to talk over the business. The procuring consists in making an attack on some malocca of another nation, and capturing all that do not escape or are not killed. Senhor L. has frequently been on these expeditions, and has had some narrow escapes from lances and poisoned arrows. At Ananárapicóma there was an Indian dreadfully scarred all over one shoulder and part of his back, the effects of a discharge of B.B. shot which Senhor L. had given him, just as he was in the act of turning with his bow and arrow: they are now excellent friends, and do businesstogether. The "negociantes" and authorities in Barra and Pará, ask the traders among the Indians to procure a boy or girl for them, well knowing the only manner in which they can be obtained; in fact, the Government in some degree authorise the practice. There is something to be said too in its favour, for the Indians make war on each other,—principally the natives of the margin of the river on those in the more distant igaripés,—for the sake of their weapons and ornaments, and for revenge of any injury, real or imaginary, and then kill all they can, reserving only some young girls for their wives. The hope of selling them to the traders, however, induces them to spare many who would otherwise be murdered. These are brought up to some degree of civilisation (though I much doubt if they are better or happier than in their native forests), and though at times ill-treated, they are free, and can leave their masters whenever they like, which, however, they seldom do when taken very young. Senhor L. had been requested by two parties at Barra—one the Delegarde de Policia—to furnish them each with an Indian girl, and as this man was an old hand at the business, he was now agreeing with him, furnishing him with powder and shot—for he had a gun—and giving him some goods, to pay other Indians for assisting him, and to do a little business at the same time if he had the opportunity. He was to return at the furthest in a fortnight, and we were to wait for him in São Jeronymo.