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Cocoeiro Palm

A
JOURNEY IN BRAZIL.

BY

PROFESSOR AND MRS. LOUIS AGASSIZ.

And whenever the way seemed long,

Or his heart began to fail,

She would sing a more wonderful song,

Or tell a more marvellous tale.

Longfellow.

BOSTON:

TICKNOR AND FIELDS.

1868.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1867, by

TICKNOR AND FIELDS,

in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

SECOND EDITION.

University Press: Welch, Bigelow, & Co.,

Cambridge.

TO

MR. NATHANIEL THAYER,

THE FRIEND WHO MADE IT POSSIBLE TO GIVE THIS JOURNEY THE CHARACTER OF A SCIENTIFIC EXPEDITION,

The Present Volume

IS GRATEFULLY INSCRIBED.

PREFACE.

In the winter of 1865 it became necessary for me, on account of some disturbance of my health, to seek a change of scene and climate, with rest from work. Europe was proposed; but though there is much enjoyment for a naturalist in contact with the active scientific life of the Old World, there is little intellectual rest. Toward Brazil I was drawn by a lifelong desire. After the death of Spix, when a student of twenty years of age, I had been employed by Martius to describe the fishes they had brought back with them from their celebrated Brazilian journey. From that time, the wish to study this fauna in the regions where it belongs had been an ever-recurring thought with me; a scheme deferred for want of opportunity, but never quite forgotten. The fact that the Emperor of Brazil was deeply interested in all scientific undertakings, and had expressed a warm sympathy with my efforts to establish a great zoölogical museum in this country, aiding me even by sending collections made expressly under his order for the purpose, was an additional incentive. I knew that the head of the government would give me every facility for my investigations. Nevertheless, tempting as was the prospect of a visit to Brazil, as a mere vacation it had little charm for me. Single-handed, I could make slight use of the opportunities I should have; and though the excursion might be a pleasant one for myself, it would have no important result for science. I could not forget that, had I only the necessary means, I might make collections on this journey which, whenever our building could be so enlarged as to give room for their exhibition, would place the Museum in Cambridge on a level with the first institutions of the kind. But for this a working force would be needed, and I saw no possibility of providing for such an undertaking. While I was brooding over these thoughts I chanced to meet Mr. Nathaniel Thayer, whom I have ever found a generous friend to science. The idea of appealing to him for a scheme of this magnitude had not, however, occurred to me; but he introduced the subject, and, after expressing his interest in my proposed journey, added, “You wish, of course, to give it a scientific character; take six assistants with you, and I will be responsible for all their expenses, personal and scientific.” It was so simply said, and seemed to me so great a boon, that at first I hardly believed I had heard him rightly. In the end, I had cause to see in how large and liberal a sense he proffered his support to the expedition, which, as is usual in such cases, proved longer and more costly than was at first anticipated. Not only did he provide most liberally for assistants, but, until the last specimen was stored in the Museum, he continued to advance whatever sums were needed, always desiring me to inform him should any additional expenses occur on closing up the affairs of the expedition. It seems to me that the good arising from the knowledge of such facts justifies me in speaking here of these generous deeds, accomplished so unostentatiously that they might otherwise pass unnoticed.

All obstacles thus removed from my path, I made my preparations for departure as rapidly as possible. The assistants I selected to accompany me were Mr. James Burkhardt as artist, Mr. John G. Anthony as conchologist, Mr. Frederick C. Hartt and Mr. Orestes St. John as geologists, Mr. John A. Allen as ornithologist, and Mr. George Sceva as preparator. Beside these, my party was enlarged by several volunteers, to whom I was indebted for assistance as untiring and efficient as if they had been engaged for the purpose. These were Mr. Newton Dexter, Mr. William James, Mr. Edward Copeland, Mr. Thomas Ward, Mr. Walter Hunnewell, and Mr. S. V. R. Thayer. I should not omit to mention my brother-in-law, Mr. Thomas G. Cary, as one of my aids; for, though not nominally connected with the expedition, he made collections for me at Monte Video, Buenos Ayres, and other places. I was also joined by my friends Dr. and Mrs. Cotting. Dr. Cotting, like myself, was in need of a vacation, and it was his intention to remain with us for as long a time as he could spare from his professional practice. But the climate proved unfavorable to his health, and after passing a couple of months in Rio, and sharing with us all our excursions in that neighborhood, he sailed with Mrs. Cotting for Europe, where they passed the summer. His presence with us during that time was most fortunate, for it so happened that the only serious cases of illness we had among us occurred before he left, and his medical advice and care were of great service. I lost the assistance of Mr. Anthony, and Mr. Allen also, early in the expedition; their health, always delicate, obliging them to leave for home. With these exceptions, our working force remained intact, and I am happy to state that every member of the party returned in safety to the United States.[^[1]]

No sooner was the Brazilian Expedition known to the public, than I received a letter from Mr. Allen McLane, President of the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, offering to me and my whole party the hospitality of their magnificent ship the Colorado, then just sailing from New York for the Pacific coast. She was going almost empty of passengers, being bound by the way of Cape Horn for San Francisco. We left New York on board this beautiful vessel, on the 1st of April, 1865. The record of our delightful voyage to Rio de Janeiro will be found in the narrative; but I wish here publicly to acknowledge my obligation to Mr. McLane for his generosity to the expedition. Besides the sympathy accorded me by private individuals, I have to thank the Hon. Gideon Welles, Secretary of the Navy, for a general order, received on the eve of my departure, desiring the officers of the United States Navy, wherever I should fall in with them, to afford me such assistance in my scientific researches as would not interfere with the regular service; and I learned at Rio that Mr. Seward had warmly recommended the expedition to General Webb, at that time United States Minister to Brazil. Finally, I would express my thanks also to Messrs. Garrison and Allen for the free passage offered to myself and my companions for our return, on board the line of steamers established between New York and Rio de Janeiro during our stay in Brazil.

It will be seen hereafter what facilities were granted me throughout this journey by the Brazilians themselves, and that the undertaking, so warmly speeded on its way, was welcomed no less cordially in the country to which it was bound.

One word as to the manner in which this volume has grown into its present shape, for it has been rather the natural growth of circumstances than the result of any preconceived design. Partly for the entertainment of her friends, partly with the idea that I might make some use of it in knitting together the scientific reports of my journey by a thread of narrative, Mrs. Agassiz began this diary. I soon fell into the habit of giving her daily the more general results of my scientific observations, knowing that she would allow nothing to be lost which was worth preserving. In consequence of this mode of working, our separate contributions have become so closely interwoven that we should hardly know how to disconnect them, and our common journal is therefore published, with the exception of a few unimportant changes, almost as it was originally written. In this volume I have attempted only to give such an account of my scientific work and its results as would explain to the public what were the aims of the expedition, and how far they have been accomplished. It is my hope to complete a work, already begun, on the Natural History, and especially on the Fishes of Brazil, in which will be recorded not only my investigations during the journey and those of my assistants in their independent excursions, but also the researches now regularly carried on in connection with the immense Brazilian collections stored in the Museum at Cambridge. This must, however, be the slow labor of many years, and can only be published very gradually. In the mean time I hope that this forerunner of the more special reports may serve to show that our year in Brazil, full as it was of enjoyment for all the party, was also rich in permanent results for science.

L. AGASSIZ.

TABLE OF CONTENTS.

APPENDIX.

LIST OF WOODCUTS.

A JOURNEY IN BRAZIL.

CHAPTER I.
VOYAGE FROM NEW YORK TO RIO DE JANEIRO.

First Sunday at Sea.—Gulf Stream.—Gulf-Weed.—Lectures proposed.—First Lecture: “On the Gulf Stream in the Gulf Stream.”—Aquarium established on board.—Second Lecture.—Rough Sea.—Peculiar Tint of Water.—Third Lecture: Laying out Work of Expedition in Brazil; Distribution of Fishes in Brazilian Rivers; its Bearing on Origin of Species; Collecting of Eggs.—Tropical Sunset.—Fourth Lecture: Plan of Geological Investigations with special reference to Glacial Phenomena in South America.—Flying-Fish.—Fifth Lecture: Glacial Phenomena, continued.—Second Sunday at Sea.—Rough Water.—Sixth Lecture: Embryological Investigations as a Guide to sound Classification.—Seventh Lecture.—Moonlight Nights.—Trade-Winds.—Eighth Lecture: Importance of Precision in Localizing Specimens.—Southern Cross.—Ninth Lecture: Fresh-water Fishes of Brazil.—Easter Sunday.—First Sight of South American Shore.—Olinda.—Pernambuco.—Catamarans.—Tenth Lecture: Methods of Collecting.—Eleventh Lecture: Classification of Fishes, as illustrated by Embryology.—Preparations for Arrival.—Twelfth Lecture: Practical Lesson in Embryology—Closing Lecture: Transmutation Theory; Intellectual and Political Independence.—Resolutions and Speeches.—Singular Red Patches on the Surface of the Sea.

April 2d, 1865.—Our first Sunday at sea. The weather is delicious, the ship as steady as anything on the water can be, and even the most forlorn of our party have little excuse for sea-sickness. We have had service from Bishop Potter this morning, and since then we have been on deck reading, walking, watching a singular cloud, which the captain says is a cloud of smoke, in the direction of Petersburg. We think it may be the smoke of a great decisive engagement going on while we sail peacefully along. What it means, or how the battle ends, if battle it be, we shall not know for two months perhaps.[^[2]] Mr. Agassiz is busy to-day in taking notes, at regular intervals, of the temperature of the water, as we approach the Gulf Stream. To-night we cut it at right angles, and he will remain on deck to continue his observations.

April 3d.—The Professor sat up last night as he intended, and found his watch, which was shared by one or two of his young assistants, very interesting. We crossed the Gulf Stream opposite Cape Hatteras, at a latitude where it is comparatively narrow, some sixty miles only in breadth. Entering it at about six o’clock, we passed out of it a little after midnight. The western boundary of the warm waters stretching along the coast had a temperature of about 57°. Immediately after entering it, the temperature began to rise gradually, the maximum being about 74°, falling occasionally, however, when we passed through a cold streak, to 68°. These cold streaks in the Gulf Stream, which reach to a considerable depth, the warm and cold waters descending together in immediate contact for at least a hundred fathoms, are attributed by Dr. Bache to the fact that the Gulf Stream is not stationary. It sways as a whole sometimes a little toward the shore, sometimes a little away from it, and, in consequence of this, the colder water from the coast creeps in, forming these vertical layers in its midst. The eastern boundary is warmer than the western one, for the latter is chilled by the Arctic currents, which form a band of cold water all along the Atlantic shore. Their influence is felt nearly to the latitude of Florida. On coming out of the Gulf Stream the temperature of the water was 68°, and so it continued for an hour longer, after which Mr. Agassiz ceased his observations. To-day some of the gulf-weed was gathered by a sailor, and we found it crowded with life. Hydroids, in numbers, had their home upon it; the delicate branching plumularia and a pretty campanularia, very like some of our New England species; beside these, bryozoa, tiny compound mollusks, crusted its stem, and barnacles were abundant upon it. These are all the wonders that the deep has yielded us to-day, though the pretty Portuguese men-of-war go floating by the vessel, out of reach thus far. Such are the events of our life: we eat and drink and sleep, read, study Portuguese, and write up our journals.

April 4th.—It has occurred to Mr. Agassiz, as a means of preparing the young men who accompany him for the work before them, to give a course of lectures on ship-board. Some preparation of the kind is the more necessary, since much of the work must be done independently of him, as it will be impossible for so large a party to travel together; and the instructions needed will be more easily given in a daily lecture to all, than in separate conversations with each one singly. The idea finds general favor. The large saloon makes an excellent lecture-room; a couple of leaves from the dining-table with a black oil-cloth stretched across them serve as a blackboard. The audience consists, not only of our own company, but includes the few ladies who are on board, Mr. Bradbury, the captain of our steamer, Bishop Potter, some of the ship’s officers, and a few additional passengers, all of whom seem to think the lecture a pleasant break in the monotony of a sea voyage. To-day the subject was naturally suggested by the seaweeds of the Gulf Stream, so recently caught and so crowded with life,—“A lecture on the Gulf Stream in the Gulf Stream,” as one of the listeners suggests. It was opened, however, by a few words on the exceptional character of the position of this scientific commission on board the Colorado.

“Fifty years ago, when naturalists carried their investigations to distant lands, either government was obliged to provide an expensive outfit for them, or, if they had no such patronage, scanty opportunities grudgingly given might be granted them on ordinary conveyances. Even if such accommodation were allowed them, their presence was looked upon as a nuisance: no general interest was felt in their objects; it was much if they were permitted, on board some vessel, to have their bucket of specimens in a corner, which any sailor might kick over, unreproved, if it chanced to stand in his way. This ship, and the spirit prevailing in her command, opens to me a vista such as I never dreamed of till I stood upon her deck. Here, in place of the meagre chances I remember in old times, the facilities could hardly be greater if the ship had been built as a scientific laboratory. If any such occasion has ever been known before, if any naturalist has ever been treated with such consideration, and found such intelligent appreciation of his highest aims, on board a merchant-ship fitted up for purposes of trade, I am not aware of it. I hope the first trip of the Colorado will be remembered in the annals of science. I, at least, shall know whom to thank for an opportunity so unique. This voyage, and the circumstances connected with it, are, to me, the signs of a good time coming; when men of different interests will help each other; when naturalists will be more liberal and sailors more cultivated, and natural science and navigation will work hand in hand. And now for my lecture,—my first lecture on ship-board.”

The lecture was given, of course, specimen in hand, the various inhabitants of the branch of seaweed giving their evidence in succession of their own structure and way of life. To these living illustrations were added drawings on the blackboard to show the transformations of the animals, their embryological history, &c.[^[3]] Since the lecture, Captain Bradbury has fitted up a large tank as an aquarium, where any specimens taken during the voyage may be preserved and examined. Mr. Agassiz is perfectly happy, enjoying every hour of the voyage, as well he may, surrounded as he is with such considerate kindness.

April 6th.—Though I took notes, as usual, of the lecture yesterday, I had not energy enough to enter them in my journal. The subject was the Gulf Stream,—the stream itself this time, not the animals it carries along with it. Mr. Agassiz’s late observations, though deeply interesting to himself, inasmuch as personal confirmation of facts already known is always satisfactory, have nothing novel now-a-days; yet the history of the facts connected with the discovery of the Gulf Stream, and their gradual development, is always attractive, and especially so to Americans, on account of its direct connection with scientific investigations carried on under our government. Mr. Agassiz gave a slight sketch of this in opening his lecture. “It was Franklin who first systematically observed these facts, though they had been noticed long before by navigators. He recorded the temperature of the water as he left the American continent for Europe, and found that it continued cold for a certain distance, then rose suddenly, and after a given time sank again to a lower temperature, though not so low as before. With the comprehensive grasp of mind characteristic of all his scientific results, he went at once beyond his facts. He inferred that the warm current, keeping its way so steadily through the broad Atlantic, and carrying tropical productions to the northern shores of Europe, must take its rise in tropical regions, must be heated by a tropical sun.[^[4]] This was his inference: to work it out, to ascertain the origin and course of the Gulf Stream, has been, in a great degree, the task of the United States Coast Survey, under the direction of his descendant, Dr. Bache.”[^[5]]

We are now fairly in the tropics. “The trades” blow heavily, and yesterday was a dreary day for those unused to the ocean; the beautiful blue water, of a peculiar metallic tint, as remarkable in color, it seemed to me, as the water of the Lake of Geneva, did not console us for the heavy moral and physical depression of sea-sick mortals. To-day the world looks brighter; there is a good deal of motion, but we are more accustomed to it. This morning the lecture had, for the first time, a direct bearing upon the work of the expedition. The subject was, “How to observe, and what are the objects of scientific explorations in modern times.”

“My companions and myself have come together so suddenly and so unexpectedly on our present errand, that we have had little time to organize our work. The laying out of a general scheme of operations is, therefore, the first and one of the most important points to be discussed between us. The time for great discoveries is passed. No student of nature goes out now expecting to find a new world, or looks in the heavens for any new theory of the solar system. The work of the naturalist, in our day, is to explore worlds the existence of which is already known; to investigate, not to discover. The first explorers, in this modern sense, were Humboldt in the physical world, Cuvier in natural history, Lavoisier in chemistry, La Place in astronomy. They have been the pioneers in the kind of scientific work characteristic of our century. We who have chosen Brazil as our field must seek to make ourselves familiar with its physical features, its mountains and its rivers, its animals and plants. There is a change, however, to be introduced in our mode of work, as compared with that of former investigators. When less was known of animals and plants the discovery of new species was the great object. This has been carried too far, and is now almost the lowest kind of scientific work. The discovery of a new species as such does not change a feature in the science of natural history, any more than the discovery of a new asteroid changes the character of the problems to be investigated by astronomers. It is merely adding to the enumeration of objects. We should look rather for the fundamental relations among animals; the number of species we may find is of importance only so far as they explain the distribution and limitation of different genera and families, their relations to each other and to the physical conditions under which they live. Out of such investigations there looms up a deeper question for scientific men, the solution of which is to be the most important result of their work in coming generations. The origin of life is the great question of the day. How did the organic world come to be as it is? It must be our aim to throw some light on this subject by our present journey. How did Brazil come to be inhabited by the animals and plants now living there? Who were its inhabitants in past times? What reason is there to believe that the present condition of things in this country is in any sense derived from the past? The first step in this investigation must be to ascertain the geographical distribution of the present animals and plants. Suppose we first examine the Rio San Francisco. The basin of this river is entirely isolated. Are its inhabitants, like its waters, completely distinct from those of other basins? Are its species peculiar to itself, and not repeated in any other river of the continent? Extraordinary as this result would seem, I nevertheless expect to find it so. The next water-basin we shall have to examine will be that of the Amazons, which connects through the Rio Negro with the Orinoco. It has been frequently repeated that the same species of fish exist in the waters of the San Francisco and in those of Guiana and of the Amazons. At all events, our works on fishes constantly indicate Brazil and Guiana as the common home of many species; but this observation has never been made with sufficient accuracy to merit confidence. Fifty years ago the exact locality from which any animal came seemed an unimportant fact in its scientific history, for the bearing of this question on that of origin was not then perceived. To say that any specimen came from South America was quite enough; to specify that it came from Brazil, from the Amazons, the San Francisco, or the La Plata, seemed a marvellous accuracy in the observers. In the museum at Paris, for instance, there are many specimens entered as coming from New York or from Pará; but all that is absolutely known about them is that they were shipped from those sea-ports. Nobody knows exactly where they were collected. So there are specimens entered as coming from the Rio San Francisco, but it is by no means sure that they came exclusively from that water-basin. All this kind of investigation is far too loose for our present object. Our work must be done with much more precision; it must tell something positive of the geographical distribution of animals in Brazil. Therefore, my young friends who come with me on this expedition, let us be careful that every specimen has a label, recording locality and date, so secured that it shall reach Cambridge safely. It would be still better to attach two labels to each specimen, so that, if any mischance happens to one, our record may not be lost. We must try not to mix the fishes of different rivers, even though they flow into each other, but to keep our collections perfectly distinct. You will easily see the vast importance of thus ascertaining the limitation of species, and the bearing of the result on the great question of origin.

“Something is already known. It is ascertained that the South American rivers possess some fishes peculiar to them. Were these fishes then created in these separate water-systems as they now exist, or have they been transferred thither from some other water-bed? If not born there, how did they come there? Is there, or has there ever been, any possible connection between these water-systems? Are their characteristic species repeated elsewhere? Thus we narrow the boundaries of the investigation, and bring it, by successive approaches, nearer the ultimate question. But the first inquiry is, How far are species distinct all over the world, and what are their limits? Till this is ascertained, all theories about their origin, their derivation from one another, their successive transformation, their migration from given centres, and so on, are mere beating about the bush. I allude especially to the fresh-water fishes, in connection with this investigation, on account of the precision of their boundaries. Looking at the matter theoretically, without a positive investigation, I do not expect to find a single species of the Lower Amazons above Tabatinga.[^[6]] I base this supposition upon my own observations respecting the distribution of species in the European rivers. I have found that, while some species occur simultaneously in the many upper water-courses which combine to form the Rhine, the Rhone, and the Danube, most of them are not found in the lower course of these rivers; that, again, certain species are found in two of these water-basins and do not occur in the third, or inhabit only one and are not to be met in the two others. The brook trout, for instance (Salmo Fario), is common to the upper course and the higher tributaries of all the three river-systems, but does not inhabit the main bed of their lower course. So it is, also, and in a more striking degree, with the Salmling (Salmo Salvelinus). The Huchen (Salmo Hucho) is only found in the Danube. But the distribution of the perch family in these rivers is, perhaps, the most remarkable. The Zingel (Aspro Zingel) and the Schrætzer (Acerina Schrætzer) are only found in the Danube; while Acerina cernua is found in the Danube as well as in the Rhine, but not in the Rhone; and Aspro asper in the Danube as well as in the Rhone, but not in the Rhine. The Sander (Lucioperca Sandra) is found in the Danube and the other large rivers of Eastern Europe, but occurs neither in the Rhine nor in the Rhone. The common perch (Perca fluviatilis), on the contrary, is found both in the Rhine and Rhone, but not in the Danube, which, however, nourishes another species of true Perca, already described by Schaeffer as Perca vulgaris. Again, the pickerel (Esox Lucius) is common to all these rivers, especially in their lower course, and so is also the cusk (Lota vulgaris). The special distribution of the carp family would afford many other striking examples, but they are too numerous and too little known to be used as an illustration here.

“This is among the most remarkable instances of what I would call the arbitrary character of geographical distribution. Such facts cannot be explained by any theory of accidental dispersion, for the upper mountain rivulets, in which these great rivers take their rise, have no connection with each other; nor can any local circumstance explain the presence of some species in all the three basins, while others appear only in one, or perhaps in two, and are absent from the third, or the fact that certain species inhabiting the head-waters of these streams are never found in their lower course when the descent would seem so natural and so easy. In the absence of any positive explanation, we are left to assume that the distribution of animal life has primary laws as definite and precise as those which govern anything else in the system of the universe.

“It is for the sake of investigations of this kind that I wish our party to divide, in order that we may cover as wide a ground as possible, and compare a greater number of the water-basins of Brazil. I wish the same to be done, as far as may be, for all the classes of Vertebrates, as well as for Mollusks, Articulates, and Radiates. As we have no special botanist in the party, we must be content to make a methodical collection of the most characteristic families of trees, such as the palms and tree ferns. A collection of the stems of these trees would be especially important as a guide to the identification of fossil woods. Much more is known of the geographical distribution of plants than of animals, however, and there is, therefore, less to be done that is new in that direction.

“Our next aim, and with the same object, namely, its bearing upon the question of origin, will be the study of the young, the collecting of eggs and embryos. This is the more important, since museums generally show only adult specimens. As far as I know, the Zoölogical Museum at Cambridge is the only one containing large collections of embryological specimens from all the classes of the animal kingdom. One significant fact, however, is already known. In their earliest stages of growth all animals of the same class are much more alike than in their adult condition, and sometimes so nearly alike as hardly to be distinguished. Indeed, there is an early period when the resemblances greatly outweigh the differences. How far the representatives of different classes resemble one another remains to be ascertained with precision. There are two possible interpretations of these facts. One is that animals so nearly identical in the beginning must have been originally derived from one germ, and are but modifications or transmutations, under various physical conditions, of this primitive unit. The other interpretation, founded on the same facts, is, that since, notwithstanding this material identity in the beginning, no germ ever grows to be different from its parent, or diverges from the pattern imposed upon it at its birth, therefore some other cause besides a material one must control its development; and if this be so, we have to seek an explanation of the differences between animals outside of physical influences. Thus far both these views rest chiefly upon personal convictions and opinions. The true solution of the problem must be sought in the study of the development of the animals themselves, and embryology is still in its infancy; for, though a very complete study of the embryology of a few animals has been made, yet these investigations include so small a number of representatives from the different classes of the animal kingdom that they do not yet give a basis for broad generalizations. Very little is known of the earlier stages in the formation of hosts of insects whose later metamorphoses, including the change of the already advanced larva, first to the condition of a chrysalis and then to that of a perfect insect, have been carefully traced. It remains to be ascertained to what extent the caterpillars of different kinds of butterflies, for instance, resemble one another during the time of their formation in the egg. An immense field of observation is open in this order alone.

“I have, myself, examined over one hundred species of bird embryos, now put up in the museum of Cambridge, and found that, at a certain age, they all have bills, wings, legs, feet, &c., &c. exactly alike. The young robin and the young crow are web-footed, as well as the duck. It is only later that the fingers of the foot become distinct. How very interesting it will be to continue this investigation among the tropical birds!—to see whether, for instance, the toucan, with its gigantic bill, has, at a certain age, a bill like that of all other birds; whether the spoonbill ibis has, at the same age, nothing characteristic in the shape of its bill. No living naturalist could now tell you one word about all this; neither could he give you any information about corresponding facts in the growth of the fishes, reptiles, or quadrupeds of Brazil, not one of the young of these animals having ever been compared with the adult. In these lectures I only aim at showing you what an extensive and interesting field of investigation opens before us; if we succeed in cultivating even a few corners of it we shall be fortunate.”

In the evening, which is always the most enjoyable part of our day, we sat on the guards and watched the first tropical sunset we had yet seen. The sun went down in purple and gold, and, after its departure, sent back a glow that crimsoned the clouds almost to the zenith, dying off to paler rose tints on the edges, while heavy masses of gray vapor, just beginning to be silvered by the moon, swept up from the south.

April 7th.—To-day the lecture was upon the physical features of South America, something with reference to the geological and geographical work in which Mr. Agassiz hopes to have efficient aid from his younger assistants. So much of the lecture consisted of explanations given upon geological maps that it is difficult to record it. Its principal object, however, was to show in what direction they should work in order to give greater precision to the general information already secured respecting the formation of the continent. “The basin of the Amazons, for instance, is a level plain. The whole of it is covered with loose materials. We must watch carefully the character of these loose materials, and try to track them to their origin. As there are very characteristic rocks in various parts of this plain, we shall have a clew to the nature of at least some portion of these materials. My own previous studies have given me a special interest in certain questions connected with these facts. What power has ground up these loose materials? Are they the result of disintegration of the rock by ordinary atmospheric agents, or are they caused by the action of water, or by that of glaciers? Was there ever a time when large masses of ice descended far lower than the present snow line of the Andes, and, moving over the low lands, ground these materials to powder? We know that such an agency has been at work on the northern half of this hemisphere. We have now to look for its traces on the southern half, where no such investigations have ever been made within its warm latitudes; though to Darwin science is already indebted for much valuable information concerning the glacial phenomena of the temperate and colder portions of the South American continent. We should examine the loose materials in every river we ascend, and see what relation they bear to the dry land above. The color of the water in connection with the nature of the banks will tell us something. The waters of the Rio Branco, for instance, are said to be milky white; those of the Rio Negro, black. In the latter case the color is probably owing to the decomposition of vegetation. I would advise each one of our parties to pass a large amount of water from any river or stream along which they travel through a filter, and to examine the deposit microscopically. They will thus ascertain the character of the detritus, whether from sand, or lime, or granite, or mere river mud formed by the decomposition of organic matter. Even the smaller streams and rivulets will have their peculiar character. The Brazilian table-land rises to a broad ridge running from west to east, and determining the direction of the rivers. It is usually represented as a mountain range, but is in fact nothing but a high flat ridge serving as a water-shed, and cut transversely by deep fissures in which the rivers flow. These fissures are broad in their lower parts, but little is known of their upper range; and whoever will examine their banks carefully will do an important work for science. Indeed, very little is known accurately of the geology of Brazil. On the geological maps almost the whole country is represented as consisting of granite. If this be correct, it is very inconsistent with what we know of the geological structure of other continents, where the stratified rocks are in much larger proportions.”

Upon this followed some account of the different kinds of valley formation and of terraces. “Do the old terraces above the rivers of South America correspond to the river terraces on any of our rivers,—those of the Connecticut, for instance,—showing that their waters had formerly a much greater depth and covered a much wider bottom? There must of course have been a cause for this great accumulation of water in ancient periods. I account for it in the northern half of the hemisphere by the melting of vast masses of ice in the glacial period, causing immense freshets. There is no trustworthy account of the river terraces in Brazil. Bates, however, describes flat-topped hills between Santarem and Pará in the narrow part of the valley, near Almeyrim, rising 800 feet above the present level of the Amazons. If this part of the valley were flooded in old times, banks might have been formed of which these hills are a remnant. But because such a theory might account for the facts it does not follow that the theory is true. Our work must be to study the facts, to see, among other things, of what these hills are built, whether of rock or of loose materials. No one has told us anything as yet of their geological constitution.”[^[7]]

To-day we have seen numbers of flying-fish from the deck, and were astonished at the grace and beauty of their motion, which we had supposed to be rather a leap than actual flight. And flight indeed it is not, their pectoral fins acting as sails rather than wings, and carrying them along on the wind. They skim over the water in this way to a great distance. Captain Bradbury told us he had followed one with his glass and lost sight of it at a considerable distance, without seeing it dip into the water again. Mr. Agassiz has great delight in watching them.[^[8]] Having never before sailed in tropical seas, he enjoys every day some new pleasure.

April 9th.—Yesterday Mr. Agassiz lectured upon the traces of glaciers as they exist in the northern hemisphere, and the signs of the same kind to be sought for in Brazil. After a sketch of what has been done in glacial investigation in Europe and the United States, showing the great extension of ice over these regions in ancient times, he continued as follows: “When the polar half of both hemispheres was covered by such an ice shroud, the climate of the whole earth must have been different from what it is now. The limits of the ancient glaciers give us some estimate of this difference, though of course only an approximate one. A degree of temperature in the annual average of any given locality corresponds to a degree of latitude; that is, a degree of temperature is lost for every degree of latitude as we travel northward, or gained for every degree of latitude as we travel southward. In our times, the line at which the average annual temperature is 32°, that is, at which glaciers may be formed, is in latitude 60° or thereabouts, the latitude of Greenland; while the height at which they may originate in latitude 45° is about 6,000 feet. If it appear that the ancient southern limit of glaciers is in latitude 36°, we must admit that in those days the present climate of Greenland extended to that line. Such a change of climate with reference to latitude must have been attended by a corresponding change of climate with reference to altitude. Three degrees of temperature correspond to about one thousand feet of altitude. If, therefore, it is found that the ancient limit of glacier action descends on the Andes, for instance, to 7,000 feet above the level of the sea under the equator, the present line of perpetual snow being at 15,000, it is safe to infer that in those days the climate was some 24° or thereabouts below its present temperature. That is, the temperature of the present snow line then prevailed at a height of 7,000 feet above the sea level, as the present average temperature of Greenland then prevailed in latitude 36°. I am as confident that we shall find these indications at about the limit I have pointed out as if I had already seen them. I would even venture to prophesy that the first moraines in the valley of the Marañon should be found where it bends eastward above Jaen.”[^[9]]

Although the weather is fine, the motion of the ship continues to be so great that those of us who have not what are popularly called “sea-legs,” have much ado to keep our balance. For my own part, I am beginning to feel a personal animosity to “the trades.” I had imagined them to be soft, genial breezes wafting us gently southward; instead of which they blow dead ahead all the time, and give us no rest night or day. And yet we are very unreasonable to grumble; for never were greater comforts and conveniences provided for voyagers on the great deep than are to be found on this magnificent ship. The state-rooms large and commodious, parlor and dining-hall well ventilated, cool, and cheerful, the decks long and broad enough to give a chance for extensive “constitutionals” to everybody who can stand upright for two minutes together, the attendance punctual and admirable in every respect; in short, nothing is left to be desired except a little more stable footing.

April 10th.—A rough sea to-day, notwithstanding which we had our lecture as usual, though I must say, that, owing to the lurching of the ship, the lecturer pitched about more than was consistent with the dignity of science. Mr. Agassiz returned to the subject of embryology, urging upon his assistants the importance of collecting materials for this object as a means of obtaining an insight into the deeper relations between animals.

“Heretofore classification has been arbitrary, inasmuch as it has rested mainly upon the interpretation given to structural differences by various observers, who did not measure the character and value of these differences by any natural standard. I believe that we have a more certain guide in these matters than opinion or the individual estimate of any observer, however keen his insight into structural differences. The true principle of classification exists in Nature herself, and we have only to decipher it. If this conviction be correct, the next question is, How can we make this principle a practical one in our laboratories, an active stimulus in our investigations? Is it susceptible of positive demonstration in material facts? Is there any method to be adopted as a correct guide, if we set aside the idea of originating systems of classification of our own, and seek only to read that already written in nature? I answer, Yes. The standard is to be found in the changes animals undergo from their first formation in the egg to their adult condition.

“It would be impossible for me here and now to give you the details of this method of investigation, but I can tell you enough to illustrate my statement. Take a homely and very familiar example, that of the branch of Articulates. Naturalists divide this branch into three classes,—Insects, Crustacea, and Worms; and most of them tell you that Worms are lowest, Crustacea next in rank, and that Insects stand highest, while others have placed the Crustacea at the head of the group. We may well ask why. Why does an insect stand above a crustacean, or, vice versa, why is a grasshopper or a butterfly structurally superior to a lobster or a shrimp? And indeed there must be a difference in opinion as to the respective standing of these groups so long as their classification is allowed to remain a purely arbitrary one, based only upon interpretation of anatomical details. One man thinks the structural features of Insects superior, and places them highest; another thinks the structural features of the Crustacea highest, and places them at the head. In either case it is only a question of individual appreciation of the facts. But when we study the gradual development of the insect, and find that in its earliest stages it is worm-like, in its second, or chrysalis stage, it is crustacean-like, and only in its final completion it assumes the character of a perfect insect, we have a simple natural scale by which to estimate the comparative rank of these animals. Since we cannot suppose that there is a retrograde movement in the development of any animal, we must believe that the insect stands highest, and our classification in this instance is dictated by Nature herself. This is one of the most striking examples, but there are others quite as much so, though not as familiar. The frog, for instance, in its successive stages of development, illustrates the comparative standing of the orders composing the class to which it belongs. These orders are differently classified by various naturalists, according to their individual estimate of their structural features. But the growth of the frog, like that of the insects, gives us the true grade of the type.[^[10]] There are not many groups in which this comparison has been carried out so fully as in the insects and frogs; but wherever it has been tried it is found to be a perfectly sure test. Occasional glimpses of these facts, seen disconnectedly, have done much to confirm the development theory, so greatly in vogue at present, though under a somewhat new form. Those who sustain these views have seen that there was a gradation between animals, and have inferred that it was a material connection. But when we follow it in the growth of the animals themselves, and find that, close as it is, no animal ever misses its true development, or grows to be anything but what it was meant to be, we are forced to admit that the gradation which unquestionably unites all animals is an intellectual, not a material one. It exists in the Mind which made them. As the works of a human intellect are bound together by mental kinship, so are the thoughts of the Creator spiritually united. I think that considerations like these should be an inducement for us all to collect the young of as many animals as possible on this journey. In so doing we may change the fundamental principles of classification, and confer a lasting benefit on science.

“It is very important to select the right animals for such investigations. I can conceive that a lifetime should be passed in embryological studies, and yet little be learned of the principles of classification. The embryology of the worm, for instance, would not give us the natural classification of the Articulates, because we should see only the first step of the series; we should not reach the sequence of the development. It would be like reading over and over again the first chapter of a story. The embryology of the Insects, on the contrary, would give us the whole succession of a scale on the lowest level of which the Worms remain forever. So the embryology of the frog will give us the classification of the group to which it belongs, but the embryology of the Cecilia, the lowest order in the group, will give us only the initiatory steps. In the same way the naturalist who, in studying the embryology of the reptiles, should begin with their lowest representatives, the serpents, would make a great mistake. But take the alligator, so abundant in the regions to which we are going. An alligator’s egg in the earliest condition of growth has never been opened by a naturalist. The young have been occasionally taken from the egg just before hatching, but absolutely nothing is known of their first phases of development. A complete embryology of the alligator would give us not only the natural classification of reptiles as they exist now, but might teach us something of their history from the time of their introduction upon earth to the present day. For embryology shows us not only the relations of existing animals to each other, but their relations to extinct types also. One prominent result of embryological studies has been to show that animals in the earlier stages of their growth resemble ancient representatives of the same type belonging to past geological ages. The first reptiles were introduced in the carboniferous epoch, and they were very different from those now existing. They were not numerous at that period; but later in the world’s history there was a time, justly called the ‘age of reptiles,’ when the gigantic Saurians, Plesiosaurians, and Ichthyosaurians abounded. I believe, and my conviction is drawn from my previous embryological studies, that the changes of the alligator in the egg will give us the clew to the structural relations of the Reptiles from their first creation to the present day,—will give us, in other words, their sequence in time as well as their sequence in growth. In the class of Reptiles, then, the most instructive group we can select with reference to the structural relations of the type as it now exists, and their history in past times, will be the alligator. We must therefore neglect no opportunity of collecting their eggs in as large numbers as possible.

“There are other animals in Brazil, low in their class to be sure, but yet very important to study embryologically, on account of their relation to extinct types. These are the sloths and armadillos,—animals of insignificant size in our days, but anciently represented in gigantic proportions. The Megatherium, the Mylodon, the Megalonyx, were some of these immense Mammalia. I believe that the embryonic changes of the sloths and armadillos will explain the structural relations of those huge Edentata and their connection with the present ones. South America teems with the fossil bones of these animals, which indeed penetrated into the northern half of the hemisphere as high up as Georgia and Kentucky, where their remains have been found. The living representatives of the family are also numerous in South America, and we should make it one of our chief objects to get specimens of all ages and examine them from their earliest phases upward. We must, above all, try not to be led away from the more important aims of our study by the diversity of objects. I have known many young naturalists to miss the highest success by trying to cover too much ground,—by becoming collectors rather than investigators. Bitten by the mania for amassing a great number and variety of species, such a man never returns to the general consideration of more comprehensive features. We must try to set before ourselves certain important questions, and give ourselves resolutely to the investigation of these points, even though we should sacrifice less important things more readily reached.

“Another type full of interest, from an embryological point of view, will be the Monkeys. Since some of our scientific colleagues look upon them as our ancestors, it is important that we should collect as many facts as possible concerning their growth. Of course it would be better if we could make the investigation in the land of the Orangs, Gorillas, and Chimpanzees,—the highest monkeys and the nearest to man in their development. Still even the process of growth in the South American monkey will be very instructive. Give a mathematician the initial elements of a series, and he will work out the whole; and so I believe when the laws of embryological development are better understood, naturalists will have a key to the limits of these cycles of growth, and be able to appoint them their natural boundaries even from partial data.

“Next in importance I would place the Tapirs. This is one of a family whose geological antecedents are very important and interesting. The Mastodons, the Palæotherium, the Dinotherium, and other large Mammalia of the Tertiaries, are closely related to the Tapir. The elephant, rhinoceros, and the like, are of the same family. From its structural standing next to the elephant, which is placed highest in the group, the embryology of the Tapir would give us a very complete series of changes. It would seem from some of the fossil remains of this family that the Pachyderms were formerly more nearly related to the Ruminants and Rodents than they now are. Therefore it would be well to study the embryology of the Capivari, the Paca, and the Peccary, in connection with that of the Tapir. Lastly, it will be important to learn something of the embryology of the Manatee or Sea-Cow of the Amazons. It is something like a porpoise in outline, and seems to be the modern representative of the ancient Dinotherium.”

April 12th.—The lecture to-day was addressed especially to the ornithologists of the party, its object being to show how the same method of study,—that of testing the classification by the phases of growth in the different groups,—might be applied to the birds as profitably as to other types.

We have made good progress in the last forty-eight hours, and are fast leaving our friends “the trades” behind. The captain promises us smooth waters in a day or two. With the dying away of the wind will come greater heat, but as yet we have had no intensely warm weather. The sun, however, keeps us within doors a great part of the day, but in the evening we sit on the guards, watch the sunset over the waters, and then the moonlight, and so while away the time till nine or ten o’clock, when one by one the party disperses. The sea has been so rough that we have not been able to capture anything, but when we get into smoother waters, our naturalists will be on the look out for jelly-fish, argonautas, and the like.

April 13th.—In to-day’s lecture Mr. Agassiz returned again to the subject of geographical distribution and the importance of localizing the collections with great precision.

“As Rio de Janeiro is our starting-point, the water-system in its immediate neighborhood will be as it were a schoolroom for us during the first week of our Brazilian life. We shall not find it so easy a matter as it seems to keep our collections distinct in this region. The head-waters of some of the rivers near Rio, flowing in opposite directions, are in such close proximity that it will be difficult sometimes to distinguish them. Outside of the coast range, to which the Organ Mountains belong, are a number of short streams, little rills, so to speak, emptying directly into the ocean. It will be important to ascertain whether the same animals occur in all these short water-courses. I think this will be found to be the case, because it is so with corresponding small rivers on our northern coast. There are little rivers along the whole coast from Maine to New Jersey; all these disconnected rivers contain a similar fauna. There is another extensive range inland of the coast ridge, the Serra de Mantiquera, sloping gently down to the ocean south of the Rio Belmonte or Jequitinhonha. Rivers arising in this range are more complex; they have large tributaries. Their upper part is usually broken by waterfalls, their lower course being more level; probably in the lower courses of these rivers we shall find fishes similar to those of the short coast streams, while in the higher broken waters we shall find distinct faunæ.” The lecture closed with some account of the excursions likely to be undertaken in the neighborhood of Rio de Janeiro on arriving, and with some practical instructions about collecting, based upon Mr. Agassiz’s personal experience.[^[11]]

April 14th.—Last evening was the most beautiful we have had since we left home; perfectly clear with the exception of soft white masses of cloud on the horizon, all their edges silvered by the moonlight. We looked our last for many months to come on the north star, and saw the southern cross for the first time. With the visible image I lost a far more wonderful constellation which had lived in my imagination; it has vanished with all its golden glory, a celestial vision as amazing as that which converted Constantine, and in its place stands the veritable constellation with its four little points of light.

The lecture to-day was upon the fishes of South America. “I will give you this morning a slight sketch of the characteristic fishes in South America, as compared with those of the Old World and North America. Though I do not know how the fishes are distributed in the regions to which we are going, and it is just upon the investigation of this point that I want your help, I know their character as distinguished from those of other continents. We must remember that the most important aim of all our studies in this direction will be the solution of the question whether any given fauna is distinct and has originated where it now exists. To this end I shall make you acquainted with the Brazilian animals so far as I can in the short time we have before beginning our active operations, in order that you may be prepared to detect the law of their geographical distribution. I shall speak to-day more especially of the fresh-water fishes.

“In the northern hemisphere there is a remarkable group of fishes known as the Sturgeons. They are chiefly found in the waters flowing into the Polar seas, as the Mackenzie River on our own continent, the Lena and Yenissei in the Old World, and in all the rivers and lakes of the temperate zone, communicating with the Atlantic Ocean. They occur in smaller numbers in most tributaries of the Mediterranean, but are common in the Volga and Danube, as well as in the Mississippi, in some of the rivers on our northern Atlantic and Pacific coasts, and in China. This family has no representatives in Africa, Southern Asia, Australia, or South America, but there is a group corresponding in a certain way to it in South America,—that of the Goniodonts. Though some ichthyologists place them widely apart in their classifications, there is, on the whole, a striking resemblance between the Sturgeons and Goniodonts. Groups of this kind, reproducing certain features common to both, but differing by special structural modifications, are called ‘representative types.’ This name applies more especially to such groups when they are distributed over different parts of the world. To naturalists the comparison of one of these types with another is very interesting, as touching upon the question of origin of species. To those who believe that animals are derived from one another the alternative here presented is very clear: either one of these groups grew out of the other, or else they both had common ancestors which were neither Sturgeons nor Goniodonts, but combined the features of both and gave birth to each.

“There is a third family of fishes, the Hornpouts or Bullheads, called Siluroids by naturalists, which seem by their structural character to occupy an intermediate position between the Sturgeons and Goniodonts. There would seem to be, then, in these three groups, so similar in certain features, so distinct in others, the elements of a series. But while their structural relations suggest a common origin, their geographical distribution seems to exclude it. Take, for instance, the Hornpouts; they are very few in the northern hemisphere, hardly ever occurring in those rivers where the Sturgeons abound, and they are very numerous in the southern hemisphere, in southern Asia, Australia, Africa, and South America, where the Sturgeons are altogether wanting. In South America the Siluroids everywhere exist with the Goniodonts, in all other parts of the world without them; the Goniodonts being only found in South America. If these were the ancestors of the Siluroids in South America, they were certainly not their ancestors anywhere else. If the Sturgeons were the ancestors of the Siluroids and of the Goniodonts, it is strange that their progeny should consist of these two families in South America, and in the Old World of the Siluroids only. But if all three had some other common ancestry, it would be still more extraordinary that its progeny should exhibit so specific a distribution upon the surface of our globe. The Siluroids lay very large eggs, and as they are very abundant in South America we shall no doubt have opportunities of collecting them. Of the reproduction of the Goniodonts absolutely nothing is known. Of course the embryology of both these groups would have a direct bearing on the problem of their origin.

“Another family very abundant in various parts of the world is that of the Perches. They are found all over North America, Europe, and Northern Asia; but there is not one to be found in the fresh waters of the southern hemisphere. In South America and in Africa they are represented however by a very similar group, that of the Chromids. These two groups are so much akin that from their structure it would seem natural to suppose that the Chromids were transformed Perches; the more so, since in the western hemisphere the latter extend from the high north to Texas, south of which they are represented by the Chromids. Here the geographical as well as the structural transition would seem an easy one. But look at the eastern hemisphere. Perches abound in Asia, Europe, and Australia, but there are no Chromids there. How is it that the Perches of this continent have been so fertile in producing Chromids, and the Perches of all other continents, except Africa, absolutely sterile in this respect? Or if we reverse the proposition, and suppose the Perches to have grown out of the Chromids, why have their ancestry disappeared so completely on the Asiatic side of the world, while they do not seem to have diminished on this? And if Perches and Chromids should be represented as descending from an older common type, I would answer that Palæontology knows nothing of such a pedigree.

“Next come the Chubs, or in scientific nomenclature the Cyprinoids. These fishes, variously called Chubs, Suckers, or Carps, abound in all the fresh waters of the northern hemisphere. They are also numerous in the eastern part of the southern hemisphere, but have not a single representative in South America. As the Goniodonts are characteristic of the southern hemisphere in its western half, so this group seems to be characteristic of it in its eastern half. But while the Cyprinoids have no representative in South America, there is another group there, structurally akin to them, called the Cyprinodonts. They are all small-sized; our Minnows belong to this group. From Maine to Texas they are found in all the short rivers or creeks all along the coast. It is for this reason that I expect to find the short coast rivers of South America abounding in Minnows. I remember to have found in the neighborhood of Mobile no less than six new species in the course of an afternoon’s ramble. These fishes are almost all viviparous, or at least lay their eggs in a very advanced state of development of the young. The sexes differ so greatly in appearance that they have sometimes been described as distinct species, nay, even as distinct genera.[^[12]] We must be on our guard against a similar mistake. Here again we have two groups, the Cyprinoids and Cyprinodonts, so similar in their structural features that the development of one out of the other naturally suggests itself. But in South America there are no Cyprinoids at all, while the Cyprinodonts abound; in Europe, Asia, and North America on the contrary, the Cyprinoids are very numerous and the Cyprinodonts comparatively few.” The Characines were next considered with reference to their affinities as well as their geographical distribution; and a few remarks were added upon the smaller families known to have representatives in the fresh waters of South America, such as the Erythrinoids, the Gymnotines, &c. “I am often asked what is my chief aim in this expedition to South America? No doubt in a general way it is to collect materials for future study. But the conviction which draws me irresistibly, is that the combination of animals on this continent, where the faunæ are so characteristic and so distinct from all others, will give me the means of showing that the transmutation theory is wholly without foundation in facts.” The lecture closed with some account of the Salmonidæ, found all over the northern hemisphere, but represented in South America by the Characines, distinct species of which may be looked for in the separate water-basins of Brazil; and also of several other important families of South American fishes, especially the Osteoglossum, the Sudis, &c., interesting on account of their relation to an extinct fossil type, that of the Cœlacanths.[^[13]]

April 17th.—Yesterday was Easter Sunday, and the day was beautiful. The services from Bishop Potter in the morning were very interesting; the more so for us on account of the God speed he gave us. Wind and weather permitting, it is the last Sunday we shall pass on board ship together. The Bishop spoke with much earnestness and sympathy of the objects of the expedition, addressing himself especially to the young men, not only with reference to their duties as connected with a scientific undertaking, but as American citizens in a foreign country at this time of war and misapprehension.

This morning we were quite entertained at meeting a number of the so-called “Catamarans,” the crazy crafts of the fishermen, who appear to be amphibious animals on this coast. Their boats consist of a few logs lashed together, over which the water breaks at every moment without apparently disturbing the occupants in the least. They fish, walk about, sit, lie down or stand, eat, drink, and sleep, to all appearance as contented and comfortable as we are in our princely steamer. Usually they go into port at nightfall, but are occasionally driven out to sea by the wind, and may sometimes be met with two hundred miles and more from the shore. To-day we have fairly come upon the South American coast. Yesterday we could catch sight occasionally of low sand banks; but this morning we have sailed past the pretty little town of Olinda, with its convent on the hill, and the larger city of Pernambuco, whose white houses come quite down to the sea-shore. Immediately in front of the town lies the reef, which runs southward along the coast for a hundred miles and more, enclosing between itself and the shore a strip of quiet waters, forming admirable anchorage for small shipping. Before Pernambuco this channel is quite deep, and directly in front of the town there is a break in the reef forming a natural gateway through which large vessels can enter. We have now left the town behind, but the shore is still in sight; a flat coast rising into low hills behind, and here and there dotted with villages and fishing-huts.

The lecture on Saturday was rather practical than scientific, on the best modes of collecting and preserving specimens, the instruments to be used, &c. To-day it was upon the classification of fishes as illustrated by embryology; the same method of study as that explained the other day and now applied to the class of fishes. “All fishes at the time when the germ becomes distinct above the yolk have a continuous fin over the whole back, around the tail, and under the abdomen. The naked reptiles, those which have no scales, such as frogs, toads, salamanders, and the like, share in this embryological feature of the fishes. From this identity of development I believe the naked reptiles to be structurally nearer to the true fishes than to the scaly reptiles. All fishes, and indeed all Vertebrates, even the highest, have, at this early period, fissures in the side of the neck. These are the first indications of gills, an organ the basis for which exists in all Vertebrates at a certain period of their life, but is fully developed and functionally active only in the lower ones, in which it acquires a special final structure; giving place to lungs in the higher ones before they reach their adult condition. From this time forward not only the class characters, but those of the family, begin to be distinguished. I will show you to-day how we may improve the classification of fishes by studying their embryology. Take, for instance, the family of Cods in its widest acceptation. It consists of several genera, among which are the Cod proper, the Cusk, and the Brotula. Naturalists may differ in their estimation of the relative rank of these genera, and even with reference to their affinity, but the embryology of the Cod seems to me to give the natural scale. In its early condition the Cod has the continuous fin of the Brotula, next the dorsal and caudal fins become distinct, as in the Cusk, and lastly the final individualization of the fins takes place, and they break up into the three dorsals and two anals of the Cod. Thus the Brotula represents the infantile condition of the Cod, and of course stands lowest, while the Cusk has its natural position between the two. There are other genera belonging to this family, as, for instance, the Lota or fresh-water Cusk and the Hake, the relative position of which may be determined by further embryological studies. I had an opportunity of observing something in the development of the Hake which throws some light on the relation of the Ophidini to the Cod family, though thus far they have been associated with the Eel. The little embryonic Hake on which I made my investigation was about an inch and a half in length; it was much more slender and elongated in proportion to its thickness than any of the family of Cods in their adult condition, and had a continuous fin all around the body. Although the structural relations of the Eels are not fully understood, some of them, at least, now united as a distinct family under the name of Ophidini, are known to be closely connected with the Cods, and this character of the Hake in its early condition would seem to show that this type of Eel is a sort of embryonic form of the Cod family.

“Another well-known family of fishes is that of the Lophioides. To this group belongs the Lophius or Goose-fish, with which the Cottoids or Sculpins, and the Blennioids, with Zoarces and Anarrhichas, the so-called Sea-cat, ought to be associated. It was my good fortune to have an opportunity of studying the development of the Lophius, and to my surprise I found that its embryonic phases included the whole series here alluded to, thus presenting another of those natural scales on which I hope all our scientific classifications will be remodelled when we obtain a better knowledge of embryology. The Lophius in its youngest stage recalls the Tænioids, being long and compressed; next it resembles the Blennioids, and growing stouter passes through a stage like Cottus, before it assumes the depressed form of Lophius. In the family of Cyprinodonts I have observed the young of Fundulus. They are destitute of ventrals, thus showing that the genus Orestias stands lowest in its family. I would allude to one other fact of this kind observed by Professor Wyman. There has been a doubt among naturalists as to the relative standing of the Skates and Sharks. On geological evidence I had placed the Skates highest, because the Sharks precede them in time; but this fact had not been established on embryological evidence. Professor Wyman has followed the embryology of the Skate through all its phases, and has found that in its earlier condition it is slender in outline, with the appearance of a diminutive shark, and that only later it assumes the broad shield-like form and long tapering tail of the skate. Were it only that they enable us to set aside all arbitrary decisions and base our classifications on the teachings of nature, these investigations would be invaluable; but their importance is increased by the consideration that we are thus gradually led to recognize the true affinities which bind all organized beings into one great system.”

April 20th.—The day after to-morrow we shall enter the Bay of Rio de Janeiro. One begins to see already that little disturbance in the regularity of sea life which precedes arrival. People are making up their letters, and rearranging their luggage; there is a slight stir pervading our small party of passengers and breaking up the even tenor of the uniform life we have been leading together for the last three weeks. It has been a delightful voyage, and yet, under the most charming circumstances, life at sea is a poor exchange for life on land, and we are all glad to be near our haven.

On Tuesday the lecture was upon the formation and growth of the egg; a sort of practical lesson in the study of embryology; yesterday, upon the importance of ascertaining, at the outset, the spawning season of the animals in Brazil, and the means to that end. “It will often be impossible for us to learn the breeding season of animals, a matter in which country people are generally very ignorant. But when we cannot obtain it from persons about us, there are some indications in the animals themselves which may serve as a guide. During my own investigations upon the development of the turtles, when I opened many thousands of eggs, I found that in these animals, at least, the appearance of the ovaries is a pretty good guide. They always contain several sets of eggs. Those which will be laid this year are the largest; those of the following year are next in size; those of two years hence still smaller, until we come to eggs so small that it is impossible to perceive any difference between their various phases of development. But we can readily tell whether there are any eggs so advanced as to be near laying, and distinguish between the brood of the year and those which are to be hatched later. When the eggs are about to be laid the whole surface is covered with ramifying blood-vessels, and the yolk is of a very clear bright yellow. Before the egg drops from the ovary this network bursts; it shrivels up and forms a little scar on the side of the ovary. Should we, therefore, on examining the ovary of a turtle, find that these scars are fresh, we may infer that the season for laying is not over; or if we find some of the eggs much larger than the rest and nearly mature, we shall know that it is about to begin. How far this will hold good with respect to alligators and other animals I do not know. I have learned to recognize these signs in the turtles from my long study of their embryology. With fishes it could hardly be possible to distinguish the different sets of eggs because they lay such numbers, and they are all so small. But if we cannot distinguish the eggs of the different years, it will be something to learn the size of their broods, which differs very greatly in different families.”

The lecture concluded with some advice as to observing and recording the metamorphoses of insects. “Though much has been written on the societies of ants and other like communities in Brazil, the accounts of different naturalists do not agree. It would be well to collect the larvæ of a great many insects, and try to raise them; but as this will be difficult and often impossible in travelling, we must at least get the nests of ants, bees, wasps, and the like, in order to ascertain all we can respecting their communities. When these are not too large it is easy to secure them by slipping a bag over them, thus taking the whole settlement captive. It may then be preserved by dipping into alcohol, and examined at leisure, so as to ascertain the number and nature of the individuals contained in it, and learn something at least of their habits. Nor let us neglect the domestic establishments of spiders. There is an immense variety of spiders in South America, and a great difference in their webs. It would be well to preserve these on sheets of paper, to make drawings of them, and examine their threads microscopically.”

April 21st.—Yesterday Mr. Agassiz gave his closing lecture, knowing that to-day all would be occupied with preparations for landing. He gave a little history of Steenstrup and Sars, and showed the influence their embryological investigations have had in reforming classification, and also their direct bearing upon the question of the origin of species. To these investigators science owes the discovery of the so-called “alternate generations,” in which the Hydroid, either by budding or by the breaking up of its own body, gives rise to numerous jelly-fishes; these lay eggs which produce Hydroids again, and the Hydroids renew the process as before.[^[14]]

“These results are but recently added to the annals of science, and are not yet very extensively known in the community; but when the facts are more fully understood, they cannot fail to affect the fundamental principles of zoölogy. I have been astonished to see how little weight Darwin himself gives to this series of transformations; he hardly alludes to it, and yet it has a very direct bearing on his theory, since it shows that, however great the divergence from the starting-point in any process of development, it ever returns to the road of its normal destiny; the cycle may be wide, but the boundaries are as impassable as if it were narrower. However these processes of development may approach, or even cross each other, they never end in making any living being different from the one which gave it birth, though in reaching that point it may pass through phases resembling other animals.

“In considering these questions we should remember how slight are most of those specific differences, the origin of which gives rise to so much controversy, in comparison with the cycle of changes undergone by every individual in the course of its development. There are numerous genera, including many very closely allied species, distinguished by differences which, were it not for the fact that they have remained unchanged and invariable through ages, might be termed insignificant. Such, for instance, are the various species of corals found in the everglades of Florida, where they lived and died ages ago, and had the identical specific differences by which we distinguish their successors in the present Florida reefs. The whole science of zoölogy in its present condition is based upon the fact that these slight differences are maintained generation after generation. And yet every individual on such a coral stock,—and the same is true of any individual in any class whatsoever of the whole animal kingdom, whether Radiate, Mollusk, Articulate, or Vertebrate,—before reaching its adult condition and assuming the permanent characters which distinguish it from other species, and have never been known to vary, passes in a comparatively short period through an extraordinary transformation, the successive phases of which differ far more from each other than do the adult species. In other words, the same individual differs more from himself in successive stages of his growth than he does in his adult condition from kindred species of the same genus. The conclusion seems inevitable, that, if the slight differences which distinguish species were not inherent, and if the phases through which every individual has to pass were not the appointed means to reach that end, themselves invariable, there would be ever-recurring deviations from the normal types. Every naturalist knows that this is not the case. All the deviations known to us are monstrosities, and the occurrence of these, under disturbing influences, are to my mind only additional evidence of the fixity of species. The extreme deviations obtained in domesticity are secured, as is well known, at the expense of the typical characters, and end usually in the production of sterile individuals. All such facts seem to show that so-called varieties or breeds, far from indicating the beginning of new types, or the initiating of incipient species, only point out the range of flexibility in types which in their essence are invariable.

“In the discussion of the development theory in its present form, a great deal is said of the imperfection of the geological record. But it seems to me that, however fragmentary our knowledge of geology, its incompleteness does not invalidate certain important points in the evidence. It is well known that the crust of our earth is divided into a number of layers, all of which contain the remains of distinct populations. These different sets of inhabitants who have possessed the earth at successive periods have each a character of their own. The transmutation theory insists that they owe their origin to gradual transformations, and are not, therefore, the result of distinct creative acts. All agree, however, that we arrive at a lower stratum where no trace of life is to be found. Place it where we will: suppose that we are mistaken in thinking that we have reached the beginning of life with the lowest Cambrian deposit; suppose that the first animals preceded this epoch, and that there was an earlier epoch, to be called the Laurentian system, beside many others older still; it is nevertheless true that geology brings us down to a level at which the character of the earth’s crust made organic life impossible. At this point, wherever we place it, the origin of animals by development was impossible, because they had no ancestors. This is the true starting-point, and until we have some facts to prove that the power, whatever it was, which originated the first animals has ceased to act, I see no reason for referring the origin of life to any other cause. I grant that we have no such evidence of an active creative power as Science requires for positive demonstration of her laws, and that we cannot explain the processes which lie at the origin of life. But if the facts are insufficient on our side, they are absolutely wanting on the other. We cannot certainly consider the development theory proved, because a few naturalists think it plausible: it seems plausible only to the few, and it is demonstrated by none. I bring this subject before you now, not to urge upon you this or that theory, strong as my own convictions are. I wish only to warn you, not against the development theory itself, but against the looseness in the methods of study upon which it is based. Whatever be your ultimate opinions on this subject, let them rest on facts and not on arguments, however plausible. This is not a question to be argued, it is one to be investigated.

“As I have advanced in these talks with you, I have become more and more dissatisfied, feeling the difficulty of laying out our work without a practical familiarity with the objects themselves. But this is the inevitable position of one who is seeking the truth: till we have found it, we are more or less feeling our way. I am aware that in my lectures I have covered a far wider range of subjects than we can handle, even if every man do his very best; if we accomplish one tenth of the work I have suggested, I shall be more than satisfied with the result of the expedition. In closing, I can hardly add anything to the impressive admonitions of Bishop Potter in his parting words to us last Sunday, for which I thank him in your name and my own. But I would remind you, that, while America has recovered her political independence, while we all have that confidence in our institutions which makes us secure, that so far as we are true to them, doing what we do conscientiously and in full view of our responsibilities we shall be in the right path, we have not yet achieved our intellectual independence. There is a disposition in this country to refer all literary and scientific matters to European tribunals; to accept a man because he has obtained the award of societies abroad. An American author is often better satisfied if he publish his book in England than at home. In my opinion, every man who publishes his work on the other side of the water deprives his country of so much intellectual capital to which she has a right. Publish your results at home, and let Europe discover whether they are worth reading. Not until you are faithful to your citizenship in your intellectual as well as your political life, will you be truly upright and worthy students of nature.”

At the conclusion of these remarks a set of resolutions was read by Bishop Potter.[^[15]] They were followed by a few little friendly speeches, all made in the most informal and cordial spirit; and so ended our course of lectures on board the Colorado. Later in the day we observed singular bright red patches in the sea. Some were not less than seven or eight feet in length, rather oblong, and the whole mass looked as red as blood. Sometimes they seemed to lie on the very top of the water, sometimes to be a little below it, so as only to tinge the rippling surface. One of the sailors succeeded in catching a portion of it in a bucket, when it was found to consist of a solid mass of little crustaceans, bright red in color. They were all very lively, keeping up a constant rapid motion. Mr. Agassiz examined them under the microscope and found them to be the young of a crab. He has no doubt that every such patch is a single brood, floating thus compactly together like spawn.

CHAPTER II.
RIO DE JANEIRO AND ITS ENVIRONS.—JUIZ DE FORA.

Arrival.—Aspect of Harbor and City.—Custom-House.—First Glimpse of Brazilian Life.—Negro Dance.—Effect of Emancipation in United States upon Slavery in Brazil.—First Aspect of Rio de Janeiro on Land.—Picturesque Street Groups.—Eclipse of the Sun.—At Home in Rio.—Larangeiras.—Passeio Publico.—Excursion on the Dom Pedro Railroad.—Visit of the Emperor to the Colorado.—Cordiality of Government to the Expedition.—Laboratory.—Botanical Garden.—Alley of Palms.—Excursion to the Corcovado.—Juiz de Fora Road.—Petropolis.—Tropical Vegetation.—Ride from Petropolis to Juiz de Fora.—Visit to Senhor Lage.—Excursion to the “Forest of the Empress.”—Visit to Mr. Halfeld.—Return to Rio.—News of the Great Northern Victories, and of the President’s Assassination.

April 23d.—Yesterday at early dawn we made Cape Frio light, and at seven o’clock were aroused by the welcome information that the Organ Mountains were in sight. The coast range here, though not very lofty, (its highest summits ranging only from two to three thousand feet,) is bold and precipitous. The peaks are very conical, and the sides slope steeply to the water’s edge, where, in many places, a wide beach runs along their base. The scenery grew more picturesque as we approached the entrance of the bay, which is guarded by heights rising sentinel-like on either side. Once within this narrow rocky portal, the immense harbor, stretching northward for more than twenty miles, seems rather like a vast lake enclosed by mountains than like a bay. On one side extends the ridge which shuts it from the sea, broken by the sharp peaks of the Corcovado, the Tijuca, and the flat-topped Gavia; on the other side, and more inland, the Organ Mountains lift their singular needle-like points, while within the entrance rises the bare bleak rock so well known as the Sugar Loaf (Paō de Assucar). Were it not for the gateway behind us, through which we still have a glimpse of the open ocean, and for the shipping lying here at anchor, leaving the port or entering it, we might easily believe that we were floating on some great quiet sheet of inland water.

We reached our anchorage at eleven o’clock, but were in no haste to leave the ocean home where we have been so happy and so comfortable for three weeks past; and as the captain had kindly invited us to stay on board till our permanent arrangements were made, we remained on deck, greatly entertained by all the stir and confusion attending our arrival. Some of our young people took one of the many boats which crowded at once around our steamer, and went directly to the city; but we were satisfied with the impressions of the day, and not sorry to leave them undisturbed. As night came on, sunset lit up the mountains and the harbor. In this latitude, however, the glory of the twilight is soon over, and as darkness fell upon the city it began to glitter with innumerable lights along the shore and on the hillsides. The city of Rio de Janeiro spreads in a kind of crescent shape around the western side of the bay, its environs stretching out to a considerable distance along the beaches, and running up on to the hills behind also. On account of this disposition of the houses, covering a wide area and scattered upon the water’s edge, instead of being compact and concentrated, the appearance of the city at night is exceedingly pretty. It has a kind of scenic effect. The lights run up on the hill-slopes, a little cluster crowning their summits here and there, and they glimmer all along the shore for two or three miles on either side of the central, business part of the town.

Soon after our arrival Mr. Agassiz received an official visit from a custom-house agent, saying that he had orders to land all our baggage without examination, and that a boat would be sent at any day and hour convenient to him to bring his effects on shore. This was a great relief, as the scientific apparatus, added to the personal luggage of so large a party, makes a fearful array of boxes, cases, &c. It would be a long business to pass it all through the cumbrous ceremonies of a custom-house. This afternoon, while Mr. Agassiz had gone to San Christovāo[^[16]] to acknowledge this courtesy and to pay his respects to the Emperor, we were wandering over a little island (Ilha das Enxadas) near which our ship lies, and from which she takes in coal for her farther voyage. The proprietor, besides his coal-wharf, has a very pretty house and garden, with a small chapel adjoining. It was my first glimpse of tropical vegetation and of Brazilian life, and had all the charm of novelty. As we landed, a group of slaves, black as ebony, were singing and dancing a fandango. So far as we could understand, there was a leader who opened the game with a sort of chant, apparently addressed to each in turn as he passed around the circle, the others joining in chorus at regular intervals. Presently he broke into a dance which rose in wildness and excitement, accompanied by cries and ejaculations. The movements of the body were a singular combination of negro and Spanish dances. The legs and feet had the short, jerking, loose-jointed motion of our negroes in dancing, while the upper part of the body and the arms had that swaying, rhythmical movement from side to side so characteristic of all the Spanish dances. After looking on for a while we went into the garden, where there were cocoa-nut and banana trees in fruit, passion-vines climbing over the house, with here and there a dark crimson flower gleaming between the leaves. The effect was pretty, and the whole scene had, to my eye, an aspect half Southern, half Oriental. It was nearly dark when we returned to the boat, but the negroes were continuing their dance under the glow of a bonfire. From time to time, as the dance reached its culminating point, they stirred their fire, and lighted up the wild group with its vivid blaze. The dance and the song had, like the amusements of the negroes in all lands, an endless monotonous repetition. Looking at their half-naked figures and unintelligent faces, the question arose, so constantly suggested when we come in contact with this race, “What will they do with this great gift of freedom?” The only corrective for the half doubt is to consider the whites side by side with them: whatever one may think of the condition of slavery for the blacks, there can be no question as to its evil effects on their masters. Captain Bradbury asked the proprietor of the island whether he hired or owned his slaves. “Own them,—a hundred and more; but it will finish soon,” he answered in his broken English. “Finish soon! how do you mean?” “It finish with you; and when it finish with you, it finish here, it finish everywhere.” He said it not in any tone of regret or complaint, but as an inevitable fact. The death-note of slavery in the United States was its death-note everywhere. We thought this significant and cheering.

April 24th.—To-day we ladies went on shore for a few hours, engaged our rooms, and drove about the city a little. The want of cleanliness and thrift in the general aspect of Rio de Janeiro is very striking as compared with the order, neatness, and regularity of our large towns. The narrow streets, with the inevitable gutter running down the middle,—a sink for all kinds of impurities,—the absence of a proper sewerage, the general aspect of decay (partly due, no doubt, to the dampness of the climate), the indolent expression of the people generally, make a singular impression on one who comes from the midst of our stirring, energetic population. And yet it has a picturesqueness that, to the traveller at least, compensates for its defects. All who have seen one of these old Portuguese or Spanish tropical towns, with their odd narrow streets and many-colored houses with balconied windows and stuccoed or painted walls, only the more variegated from the fact that here and there the stucco has peeled off, know the fascination and the charm which make themselves felt, spite of the dirt and discomfort. Then the groups in the street,—the half-naked black carriers, many of them straight and firm as bronze statues under the heavy loads which rest so securely on their heads, the padres in their long coats and square hats, the mules laden with baskets of fruit or vegetables,—all this makes a motley scene, entertaining enough to the new-comer. I have never seen such effective-looking negroes, from an artistic point of view, as here. To-day a black woman passed us in the street, dressed in white, with bare neck and arms, the sleeves caught up with some kind of armlet, a large white turban of soft muslin on her head, and a long bright-colored shawl passed crosswise under one arm and thrown over the other shoulder, hanging almost to the feet behind. She no doubt was of the colored gentry. Just beyond her sat a black woman on the curbstone, almost without clothing, her glossy skin shining in the sun, and her naked child asleep across her knees. Or take this as another picture: an old wall several feet wide, covered with vines, overhung with thick foliage, the top of which seems to be a stand for the venders of fruits, vegetables, &c. Here lies at full length a powerful negro looking over into the street, his jetty arms crossed on a huge basket of crimson flowers, oranges and bananas, against which he half rests, seemingly too indolent to lift a finger even to attract a purchaser.

April 25th.—Nature seems to welcome our arrival, not only by her most genial, but also by her exceptional moods. There has been to-day an eclipse of the sun, total at Cape Frio, sixty miles from here, almost total here. We saw it from the deck of the ship, not having yet taken up our quarters in town. The effect was as strange as it was beautiful. There was a something weird, uncanny in the pallor and chill which came over the landscape; it was not in the least like a common twilight, but had a ghastly, phantom-like element in it. Mr. Agassiz passed the morning at the palace where the Emperor had invited him to witness the eclipse from his observatory. The clouds are poor courtiers, however, and unfortunately a mist hung over San Christovāo, obscuring the phenomenon at the moment of its greatest interest. Our post of observation was better for this special occasion than the Imperial observatory, and yet, though the general scene was perhaps more effective in the harbor than on the shore, Mr. Agassiz had an opportunity of making some interesting observations on the action of animals under these novel circumstances. The following extract is from his notes. “The effect of the waning light on animals was very striking. The bay of Rio is daily frequented by large numbers of frigate-birds and gannets, which at night fly to the outer islands to roost, while the carrion-crows (urubús) swarming in the suburbs, and especially about the slaughterhouses of the city, retire to the mountains in the neighborhood of Tijuca, their line of travel passing over San Christovāo. As soon as the light began to diminish, these birds became uneasy; evidently conscious that their day was strangely encroached upon, they were uncertain for a moment how to act. Presently, however, as the darkness increased, they started for their usual night quarters, the water-birds flying southward, the vultures in a northwesterly direction, and they had all left their feeding-grounds before the moment of greatest obscurity arrived. They seemed to fly in all haste, but were not half-way to their night home when the light began to return with rapidly increasing brightness. Their confusion was now at its height. Some continued their flight towards the mountains or the harbor, others hurried back to the city, while others whirled about wholly uncertain what to do next. The re-establishment of the full light of noon seemed to decide them, however, upon making another day of it, and the whole crowd once more moved steadily toward the city.”

The cordial interest shown by the Emperor in all the objects of the present expedition is very encouraging to Mr. Agassiz. So liberal a spirit in the head of the government will make his own task comparatively easy. He has also seen several official persons on business appertaining to his scientific schemes. Everywhere he receives the warmest expressions of sympathy, and is assured that the administration will give him every facility in its power to carry out his plans. To-night finds us established in our rooms, and our Brazilian life begins; with what success remains to be seen. While still on board the “Colorado” we seemed to have one foot on our own soil.

April 26th.—This morning Mrs. C—— and myself devoted to the arranging of our little domestic matters, getting out our books, desks, and other knickknacks, and making ourselves at home in our new quarters, where we suppose we are likely to be for some weeks to come. This afternoon we drove out on the Larangeiras road (literally, the “orangery”). Our first drive in Rio left upon my mind an impression of picturesque decay; things seemed falling to pieces, it is true, but mindful of artistic effect even in their last moments. This impression was quite effaced to-day. Every city has its least becoming aspect, and it seems we had chosen an unfavorable direction for our first tour of observation. The Larangeiras road is lined on either side by a succession of country houses; low and spreading, often with wide verandas, surrounded by beautiful gardens, glowing at this season with the scarlet leaves of the Poinsettia, or “Estrella do Norte” as they call it here, with blue and yellow Bignonias, and many other shrubs and vines, the names of which we have hardly learned as yet. Often, as we drove along, a wide gateway, opening into an avenue of palms, would give us a glimpse of Brazilian life. Here and there a group of people were sitting in the garden, or children were playing in the grounds under the care of their black nurses. Farther out of town the country houses were less numerous, but the scenery was more picturesque. The road winds immediately under the mountains to the foot of the Corcovado, where it becomes too steep for carriages, the farther ascent being made on mules or horses. But it was too late for us,—the peak of the Corcovado was already bathed in the setting sun. We wandered a little way up the romantic path, gathered a few flowers, and then drove back to the city, stopping on our return to ramble for half an hour in the “Passeio Publico.” This is a pretty public garden on the bay, not large but tastefully laid out, its great charm being a broad promenade built up from the water’s edge with very solid masonry, against which the waves break with a refreshing coolness. To-morrow we are invited by Major Ellison, chief engineer of the Dom Pedro Railroad, to go out to the terminus of the road, some hundred miles through the heart of the Serra do Mar.

Tree entwined by Sipos.

April 27th.—Perhaps in all our journeyings through Brazil we shall not have a day more impressive to us all than this one; we shall, no doubt, see wilder scenery, but the first time that one looks upon nature, under an entirely new aspect, has a charm that can hardly be repeated. The first view of high mountains, the first glimpse of the broad ocean, the first sight of a tropical vegetation in all its fulness, are epochs in one’s life. This wonderful South American forest is so matted together and intertwined with gigantic parasites that it seems more like a solid, compact mass of green than like the leafy screen, vibrating with every breeze and transparent to the sun, which represents the forest in the temperate zone. Many of the trees in the region we passed through to-day seemed in the embrace of immense serpents, so large were the stems of the parasites winding about them; orchids of various kinds and large size grew upon their trunks; and vines climbed to their summits and threw themselves down in garlands to the ground. On the embankments also between which we passed, vines of many varieties were creeping down, as if they would fain clothe in green garments the ugly gaps the railroad had made. Yet it must be confessed that, in this instance, the railroad has not destroyed, but rather heightened, the picturesque scenery, cutting, as it does, through passes which give beautiful vistas into the heart of the mountain range. Once, as we issued from a tunnel, where the darkness seemed tangible, upon an exquisite landscape all gleaming in the sunshine, a general shout from the whole party testified their astonishment and admiration. We were riding on an open car in front of the engine, so that nothing impeded our view, and we had no inconvenience from smoke or cinders. During the latter part of the ride we came into the region of the most valuable coffee-plantations; and indeed the road is chiefly supported by the transportation of the immense quantities of coffee raised along its track or beyond it. Near its terminus is an extensive fazenda, from which we were told that five or six hundred tons of coffee are sent out in a good year. These fazendas are singular-looking establishments, low (usually only one story) and very spreading, the largest of them covering quite an extensive area. As they are rather isolated in situation, they must include within their own borders all that is needed to keep them up. There is something very primitive in the way of life of these great country proprietors. Major Ellison told me that some time ago a wealthy Marqueza living at some distance beyond him in the interior, and going to town for a stay of a few weeks, stopped at his house to rest. She had a troop of thirty-one pack-mules, laden with all conceivable baggage, besides provisions of every sort, fowls, hams, &c., and a train of twenty-five servants. Their hospitality is said to be unbounded; you have only to present yourself at their gates at the end of a day’s journey, and if you have the air of a respectable traveller, you are sure of a hearty welcome, shelter and food. The card of a friend or a note of introduction insures you all the house can afford for as long as you like to stay.

The last three miles of our journey was over what is called the “temporary road,” the use of which will be discontinued as soon as the great tunnel is completed. I must say, that to the inexperienced this road looks exceedingly perilous, especially that part of it which is carried over a wooden bridge 65 feet high, with a very strong curvature and a gradient of 4 per cent (211 feet per mile). As you feel the engine laboring up the steep ascent, and, looking out, find yourself on the edge of a precipitous bank, and almost face to face with the hindmost car, while the train bends around the curve, it is difficult to resist the sense of insecurity. It is certainly greatly to the credit of the management of the line that no accident has occurred under circumstances where the least carelessness would be fatal.[^[17]]

It gives one an idea of the labor expended on this railroad, to learn that for the great tunnel alone, now almost completed (one of fourteen), a corps of some three hundred men, relieving each other alternately, have been at work day and night, excepting Sundays, for seven years. The sound of hammer and pick during that time has hardly ever been still, and so hard is the rock through which the tunnel is pierced, that often the heaviest blows of the sledge yield only a little dust,—no more in bulk than a pinch of snuff.[^[18]]

On our return we were detained for half an hour at a station on the bank of the river Parahyba. This first visit to one of the considerable rivers of Brazil was not without its memorable incident. One of our friends of the Colorado, who parts from us here on his way to San Francisco, said he was determined not to leave the expedition without contributing something to its results. He improvised a fishing apparatus, with a stick, a string, and a crooked pin, and caught two fishes, our first harvest from the fresh waters of Brazil, one of which was entirely new to Mr. Agassiz, while the other he had never seen, and only knew from descriptions.

April 28th.—This morning we went over to the Colorado, which still lies in the harbor, and where the visit of the Emperor was expected. We all felt an interest in the occasion, for we have a kind of personal pride in the fine ship whose first voyage has been the source of so much enjoyment to us. The Imperial yacht arrived punctually at twelve o’clock, and was received by the captain with a full salute from his Parrott guns, fired with a promptness and accuracy which the Emperor did not fail to notice. His Majesty went over the whole steamer; and really an exploring expedition over such a world in little, with its provision-shops, its cattle stalls, its pantries and sculleries, its endless accommodations for passengers and freight, its variety of decks and its great central fires, deep below all, is no contemptible journey for a tropical morning. The arrangements of the vessel seemed to excite the interest and admiration both of the Emperor and his suite. Captain Bradbury invited his Majesty to lunch on board; he very cordially accepted, and remained some time afterward, conversing chiefly about scientific subjects, and especially on matters connected with the expedition. The Emperor is still a young man; but though only forty, he has been the reigning sovereign of Brazil for more than half that time, and he looks careworn and somewhat older than his years. He has a dignified, manly presence, a face rather stern in repose, but animated and genial in conversation; his manner is courteous and friendly to all.

May 1st.—We celebrated May-day in a strange land, where May ushers in the winter, by driving to the Botanical Garden. When I say we, I mean usually the unprofessional members of the party. The scientific corps are too busily engaged to be with us on many of our little pleasure excursions. Mr. Agassiz himself is chiefly occupied in seeing numerous persons in official positions, whose influence is important in matters relative to the expedition. He is very anxious to complete these necessary preliminaries, to despatch his various parties into the interior, and to begin his personal investigations. He is commended to be patient, however, and not to fret at delays; for, with the best will in the world, the dilatory national habits cannot be changed. Meanwhile he has improvised a laboratory in a large empty room over a warehouse in the Rua Direita, the principal business street of the city. Here in one corner the ornithologists, Mr. Dexter and Mr. Allen, have their bench,—a rough board propped on two casks, the seat an empty keg; in another, Mr. Anthony, with an apparatus of much the same kind, pores over his shells; a dissecting-table of like carpentry occupies a conspicuous position; and in the midst the Professor may generally be seen sitting on a barrel, for chairs there are none, assorting or examining specimens, or going from bench to bench to see how the work progresses. In the midst of the confusion Mr. Burkhardt has his little table, where he is making colored drawings of the fish as they are brought in fresh from the fishing-boats. In a small adjoining room Mr. Sceva is preparing skeletons for mounting. Every one, in short, has his special task and is busily at work. A very questionable perfume, an “ancient and fish-like smell,” strongly tinged with alcohol, guides one to this abode of Science, where, notwithstanding its unattractive aspect, Mr. Agassiz receives many visitors, curious to see the actual working process of a laboratory of Natural History, and full of interest in the expedition. Here also pour in specimens from all quarters and of every kind; voluntary contributions, which daily swell the collections.[^[19]] Those of the party who are not engaged here have their work elsewhere. Mr. Hartt and Mr. St. John are at various stations along the railroad line, making geological sections of the road; several of the volunteers are collecting in the country, and Mr. Hunnewell is studying at a photographic establishment, fitting himself to assist Mr. Agassiz in this way when we are beyond the reach of professional artists.

Side View of the Alley of Palms.

Vista down the Alley of Palms.

Our excursion of to-day took us to another of those exquisite drives in the neighborhood of the city, always along the harbor or some inlet of it, always in sight of the mountains, always bordered by pretty country houses and gardens. The Botanical Garden is about eight miles from the centre of the town. It is beautiful, because the situation is admirably well chosen, and because anything that calls itself a garden can hardly fail to be beautiful in a climate where growth is so luxuriant. But it is not kept with great care. Indeed, the very readiness with which plants respond to the least culture bestowed upon them here makes it very difficult to keep grounds in that trim order which we think so essential. This garden boasts, however, one feature as unique as it is beautiful, in its long avenue of palms, some eighty feet in height. I wish it were possible to give in words the faintest idea of the architectural beauty of this colonnade of palms, with their green crowns meeting to form the roof. Straight, firm, and smooth as stone columns, a dim vision of colonnades in some ancient Egyptian temple rises to the imagination as one looks down the long vista.[^[20]]

May 6th.—Yesterday, at the invitation of our friend Mr. B——, we ascended the famous Corcovado peak. Leaving the carriages at the terminus of the Larangeiras road, we made the farther ascent on horseback by a winding narrow path, which, though a very fair road for mountain travelling in ordinary weather, had been made exceedingly slippery by the late rains. The ride was lovely through the fragrant forest, with enchanting glimpses of view here and there, giving promise of what was before us. Occasionally a brook or a little cascade made pleasant music by the roadside, and when we stopped to rest our horses we heard the wind rustle softly in the stiff palms overhead. The beauty of vegetation is enhanced here by the singular character of the soil. The color of the earth is peculiar all about Rio; of a rich warm red, it seems to glow beneath the mass of vines and large-leaved plants above it, and every now and then crops out in vivid, striking contrast to the surrounding verdure. Frequently our path followed the base of such a bank, its deep ochre and vermilion tints looking all the softer for their framework of green. Among the larger growth, the Candelabra-tree (Cecropia) was conspicuous. The strangely regular structure of the branches and its silvery-tinted foliage make it stand out in bold relief from the darker background. It is a striking feature of the forest in this neighborhood.

A wide panoramic prospect always eludes description, but certainly few can combine such rare elements of beauty as the one from the summit of the Corcovado. The immense landlocked harbor, with its gateway open to the sea, the broad ocean beyond, the many islands, the circle of mountains with soft fleecy clouds floating about the nearer peaks,—all these features make a wonderful picture. One great charm of this landscape consists in the fact, that, though very extensive, it is not so distant as to deprive objects of their individuality. After all, a very distant view is something like an inventory: so many dark, green patches, forests; so many lighter green patches, fields; so many white spots, lakes; so many silver threads, rivers, &c. But here special effects are not lost in the grandeur of the whole. On the extreme peak of the height a wall has been built around the edge, the descent on one side being so vertical that a false step might hurl one to instant destruction. At this wall we dismounted and lingered long, unwilling to leave the beautiful view before sunset. We were, however, anxious to return by daylight, and, to confess the truth, being a timorous and inexperienced rider at best, I was not without some anxiety as to the descent, for the latter part of the slippery road had been a sheer scramble. Putting a bold face on the matter, however, I resumed my seat, trying to look as if it were my habit to mount horses on the tops of high mountains and slide down to the bottom. This is really no inaccurate description of our descent for the first ten minutes, after which we regained the more level path at the little station called “the Païneiras.” We are told to-day that parties usually leave their horses at this station and ascend the rest of the way on foot, the road beyond that being so steep that it is considered unsafe for riding. However, we reached the plain without accident, and I look back upon yesterday’s ride with some complacency as a first lesson in mountain travelling.[^[21]]

May 20th.—On Friday, the 12th of May, we left Rio on our first excursion of any length. A day or two after our arrival Mr. Agassiz had received an invitation from the President of the Union and Industry Company to go with some of his party over their road from Petropolis to Juiz de Fora, in the Province of Minas Geräes, a road celebrated not only for the beauty of its scenery, but also for its own excellence. A word as to the circumstances under which it has been built may not be amiss here; and it must be confessed, that, if the Brazilians are, as they are said to be, slow in their progress, the improvements they do undertake are carried out with great thoroughness. It is true that the construction of the road has been intrusted to French engineers, but the leading man in its projection and ultimate completion has been a Brazilian, Senhor Mariano Procopio Ferreira Lage, a native of the province of Minas Geräes. This province is said to be remarkable for the great energy and intelligence of its inhabitants, as compared with those of the adjoining provinces. Perhaps this may be owing to its cooler climate, most of its towns lying among the highlands of the Serras, and enjoying a fresher, more stimulating air than those nearer the sea-coast. Before undertaking the building of this road, Senhor Lage travelled both in Europe and America with the purpose of learning all the modern improvements in works of a similar character. The result bears testimony to the energy and patience with which he has carried out his project.[^[22]] Twelve years ago the only means of going into the interior from Petropolis was through narrow, dangerous, broken mule-tracks, and a journey of a hundred miles involved a difficult ride of three or four days. Now one travels from Petropolis to Juiz de Fora between sunrise and sunset over a post-road equal to any in the world, changing mules every ten or twelve miles at pretty little stations, built somewhat in the style of Swiss châlets, each one of which is a settlement for the German colonists who have been induced to come out as workmen on the road. This emigration in itself is a great advantage to the country; wherever these little German villages occur, nestled down among the hills, there are the neat vegetable and flower gardens, the tidy houses, the general aspect of thrift and comfort, so characteristic of the better classes of the German peasantry. Nominally no slaves are allowed on the service of the road, Portuguese and German workmen being chiefly employed. This is a regulation which applies not only here, but on other public works about Rio. The contracts granted by the government expressly exclude the employment of slaves, though unfortunately this rule is not adhered to strictly, because for the performance of certain kinds of work no substitute for slave labor has yet been found. In the direct care of the road, however, in the repairs, for instance, requiring gangs of men who are constantly at work blasting rock and cracking the fragments into small pieces for the fresh macadamizing of any imperfect spot, mending any defects in the embankments or walls, &c., none but free labor is employed.

This attempt to exclude slaves from the public works is an emancipation movement, undertaken with the idea of gradually limiting slave labor to agricultural processes, and ridding the large cities and their neighborhood of the presence of slavery. The subject of emancipation is no such political bugbear here as it has been with us. It is very liberally and calmly discussed by all classes; the general feeling is against the institution, and it seems to be taken for granted that it will disappear before many years are over. During this very session of the Assembly one or two bills for emancipation have been brought forward. Even now any enterprising negro may obtain his freedom, and, once obtained, there is no obstacle to his rising in social or political station. But while from this point of view slavery is less absolute than it was with us, it has some appalling aspects. The slaves, at least in the cities, are literally beasts of burden. One sees the most cumbersome furniture,—pianos and the like, and the heaviest trunks or barrels, piled one on top of the other, or bales of sugar and coffee weighing hundreds of pounds,—moving about the streets on the heads of the negroes. The result of this is that their limbs often become crippled, and it is common to see negroes in the prime of life who are quite crooked and maimed, and can hardly walk without a stick to lean upon. In justice I must add, however, that this practice, though it shocks a stranger even now, is gradually disappearing. We are told that a few years ago there were hardly any baggage-wagons except these living ones, and that the habit of using the blacks in this way is going out of vogue. In this as in other matters the Emperor’s opinions are those of an enlightened and humane man, and were his power equal to his will, slavery would vanish from his dominions at once. He is, however, too wise not to know that all great social changes must be gradual; but he openly declares his abhorrence of the system.[^[23]]

But to return from this digression to the road of the Union and Industry Company. It is now completed as far as Juiz de Fora, affording every convenience for the transport of the rich harvest of coffee constantly travelling over it from all the fazendas in the region. As the whole district is very rich in coffee-plantations, the improvement in the means of transportation is of course very important to the commercial interests of the country, and Senhor Lage is making practicable roads to the smallest settlements in his neighborhood. He has not, however, been free from the difficulties which men encounter whose schemes are in advance of their surroundings. No doubt a great part of the dissatisfaction is owing to the fact that the road is not so remunerative as was anticipated, the advance of the Dom Pedro Railroad having impaired its success. Still it must be considered as a monument to the public spirit and energy of the men who undertook it. Not wishing to interrupt the course of the narrative, I have thought it best to preface the story of our journey by some account of this road, the building of which is a significant fact in the present history of Brazil. I will now take up again the thread of our personal adventures.

Leaving the city at two o’clock in the ferry-boat, we kept up the harbor some fifteen miles. There was a cool breeze, and the day, though warm, was not oppressive. Passing the large Ilha do Governador, the smaller but exceedingly pretty island of Paqueta, and many others, with their palms, banana and acacia trees, dotting the harbor of Rio and adding another grace to its beauty, we landed in about an hour and a quarter at the little town of Mauá.[^[24]] Here we took the cars, and an hour’s ride through low and marshy grounds brought us to the foot of the Serra (Raiz da Serra), where we left the railroad for the post-coach, which runs regularly from this station. The drive was delightful, in an open diligence drawn by four mules on the full gallop over a road as smooth as a floor. It wound zigzag up the mountains, through the wildest scenery, while below us lay the valley broken into a billowy sea of green hills, and the harbor with the coast range beyond, growing soft and mellow in the afternoon sunshine. To complete the picture, one must clothe it in palms and acacias and tree-ferns, and drape it in a tangle of parasitic growth, with abundant bloom of the purple Quaresma (Flower of Lent),[^[25]] the Thunbergia vine, with its little straw-colored blossoms creeping over every wall and shrub, and the blue and yellow Bignonias. We are constantly astonished at the variety of palms. A palm is such a rarity in our hot-houses, that we easily forget how numerous and varied they are in their native forests. We have the scarlet-oak, the white-oak, the scrub-oak, the chestnut-oak, the swamp-oak, and many others. And so in the tropical forest there is the cocoanut-palm, with its swollen, bulb-like stem when young, its tall, straight trunk when full grown, its cluster of heavy fruit, and its long, plume-like, drooping flower;[^[26]] the Coccoeiro, with its slighter trunk and pendant branches of small berry-like fruit; the Palmetto, with its tender succulent bud on the summit of the stem, which is used as a vegetable here, and makes an excellent substitute for cabbage; the thorny Icaree or Cari, a variety of fan-palms, with their leaves cut like ribbons; and very many others, each with its characteristic foliage and appearance.[^[27]]

The mountains along the road, as indeed throughout the neighborhood of Rio, are of very peculiar forms, steep and conical, suggesting at first sight a volcanic origin. It is this abruptness of outline which gives so much grandeur to mountain ranges here, the average height of which does not exceed two or three thousand feet. A closer examination of their structure shows that their wild, fantastic forms are the result of the slow processes of disintegration, not of sudden convulsions. Indeed, the rocks here differ so much in external character from those of the Northern Hemisphere, that the European geologist stands at first bewildered before them, and feels that the work of his life is to be done over again. It is some time before he obtains a clew to the facts and brings them into harmony with his previous knowledge. Thus far Mr. Agassiz finds himself painfully perplexed by this new aspect of phenomena so familiar to him in other regions, but so baffling here. He comes upon a rock, for instance, or a rounded elevation which by its outline he would suppose to be a “roche moutonnée,” but approaching it more nearly he finds a decomposed crust instead of a glaciated surface. It is the same with the loose materials corresponding to the drift of the Northern hemisphere, and with all boulders or detached masses of rock; on account of their disintegration wherever they are exposed to the atmosphere, nothing is to be learned from their external appearance. There is not a natural surface of rock, unless recently broken, to be found anywhere.

The sun had set before we drove into the pretty town of Petropolis, the summer paradise of all Rio Janeirans whose circumstances enable them to leave the heat and dirt and vile smells of the city, for the pure air and enchanting views of the Serra. In a central position stands the summer palace of the Emperor, a far gayer and more cheerful-looking edifice than the palace at San Christovāo. Here he passes six months of the year. Through the midst of the town runs the pretty river Piabanha, a shallow stream, now rippling along in the bottom of its bed between high green banks; but we were told that a night of rain in the hot season is enough to swell its waters till they overflow and flood the road. I could not but think how easy it would be for any one who cares to see tropical scenery to come here, when the direct line of steamers from New York is established, and, instead of going to Newport or Nahant, to take a house in Petropolis for the summer. It commands all the most beautiful scenery about Rio, and the horseback rides are without end. During our summer the weather is delightful here, just admitting a semblance of wood-fire morning and evening, while the orange orchards are golden with fruit, and flowers are everywhere. We had little time to become acquainted with the beauty of the place, which we hope to explore more at our leisure on some future visit, for sunrise the next morning saw us on our road again. The soft clouds hanging over the tops of the mountains were just tinged with the first rays of the sun when we drove out of the town on the top of the diligence, the mules at full gallop, the guard sounding a gay reveille as we rattled over the little bridge and past the pretty houses where closed windows and doors showed that the inhabitants were hardly yet astir.

The first part of our road lay through the lovely valley of the Piabanha, the river whose acquaintance we had already made in Petropolis, and which accompanied us for the first forty or fifty miles of our journey, sometimes a restless stream broken into rapids and cascades, sometimes spreading into a broad, placid river, but always enclosed between mountains rising occasionally to the height of a few thousand feet, lifting here and there a bare rocky face seamed with a thousand scars of time and studded with Bromelias and Orchids, but more often clothed with all the glory of the Southern forest, or covered from base to summit with coffee shrubs. A thriving coffee plantation is a very pretty sight; the rounded, regular outline of the shrubs gives a tufted look to the hillside on which they grow, and their glittering foliage contrasts strikingly at this season with their bright red berries. One often passes coffee plantations, however, which look ragged and thin; in this case the trees are either suffering from the peculiar insect so injurious to them, (a kind of Tinea,) or have run out and become exhausted. As we drove along, the scenes upon the road were often as amusing as they were picturesque. Now we came upon a troop of pack mules with a tropeiro (driver) at their head; if a large troop, they were divided into companies of eight, with a man to guide each company. The guard wound his horn to give warning of our coming, and a general struggle, garnished with kicks, oaths, and many lashes, ensued, to induce the mules to make way for the coach. These troops of mules are beginning to disappear from the seaboard since the modern improvements in railroads and stage lines, making transportation so much easier; but until lately it was the only way of bringing down the produce from the interior. Or again we fell in with a line of country wagons made of plaited bamboo, a kind of fabric which is put to a variety of uses here, such as the building of fences and lining of ceilings or roofs, as well as the construction of carts. Here and there the laborers were sitting in groups at the roadside, their work suspended while they cooked their midday meal, their kettles hanging over the fire, their coffee-pot simmering over the coals, and they themselves lying about in gypsy-like freedom of attitude.

At Posse, the third stage of our road, after having gone some thirty miles, we also stopped to breakfast, a meal which was by no means unacceptable after our three hours’ ride. It is an almost universal custom with the Brazilians, especially when travelling, to take their cup of black coffee on rising, and defer their more solid breakfast till ten or eleven o’clock. I do not know whether my readers will sympathize with me, but I am always disappointed myself if any book of travels, having led me along the weary road, does not tell me what the hungry wanderers had to eat. It seems hardly fair, having shared their fatigues, that I should not also share their refreshment and be invited to sit down at table with them. Doing, therefore, as I would be done by, I shall give our bill of fare, and take an opportunity of saying a word at the same time of the characteristic Brazilian dishes. In the first place we had black beans stewed with carne secca (dried meat), the invariable accompaniment of every meal in Brazil. There is no house so poor that it does not have its feijōes, no house so rich as to exclude this homely but most excellent dish, a favorite alike with high and low. Then there was chicken stewed with potatoes and rice, almost as marked a feature of the Brazilian cuisine as the black beans. Beside these, there were eggs served in various ways, cold meat, wine, coffee, and bread. Vegetables seem to be rare, though one would expect a plentiful variety in this climate.[^[28]] At Posse Mr. Agassiz found a cordial co-operator in Mr. Charles Taylor, who expressed a warm interest in his scientific researches, and kept one of the collecting cans that he might fill it with fishes from the neighboring rivers and streams.[^[29]]

Our kind friend Senhor Joaō Baptista da Fonseca, who was our guide and our host on this journey, had neglected nothing which could contribute to the success and pleasure of the party, and had so prepared the way for the scientific objects of the excursion that at several points of the road we found collections of fishes and other animals awaiting us by the roadside. Once or twice, as we passed a fazenda, a negro carrying a basket came out to stop the diligence, and, lifting the cool green leaves which covered them, showed freshly caught fishes of all hues and sizes. It was rather aggravating, especially as we approached the end of our long drive, and the idea of dinner readily suggested itself, to see them disappear in the alcohol cans.[^[30]]

At about midday we bade good by to the pretty river we had followed thus far, and at the Estaçaō d’Entre Rios (between the rivers) crossed the fine bridge which spans the Parahyba at this point. The Parahyba is the large river which flows for a great part of its course between the Serra do Mar and the Serra da Mantiqueira, emptying into the Atlantic at San Joaō da Barra considerably to the northeast of Rio de Janeiro. One is a little bewildered at first by the variety of Serras in Brazil, because the word is used to express not only important chains of mountains, but all their spurs. Any mountainous elevation is a Serra; but though there is an endless number of them between the Serra do Mar and the Serra da Mantiqueira, these are the two most important chains, running parallel with the sea-coast. Between them flows the Parahyba with its many branches. It is important to make collections here, as the peculiar character of this water basin, the many tributaries of which drain the southern water-shed of the Serra da Mantiqueira, and the northern water-shed of the Serra do Mar, make it of especial interest for the naturalist. On account of its neighborhood to the sea, it is also desirable to compare its inhabitants with those of the many short, disconnected rivers which empty into the Atlantic on the other side of the coast range. In short, it gives a good opportunity for testing those questions of the geographical distribution of living beings, as connected with their origin, which Mr. Agassiz so strongly urged upon his assistants during our voyage.

Soon after crossing the Parahyba, the road strikes the Parahybuna, a tributary which enters the main river on its northern side, nearly opposite the Piabanha. The latter part of the journey is less wild than the first half; the mountains fall away in somewhat gentler slopes, and do not shut in the road with the steep rugged precipices so striking in the valley of the Piabanha. But though perhaps less picturesque on approaching Juiz de Fora,[^[31]] the scenery is beautiful enough throughout the whole ride to satisfy the most fastidious and keep the attention constantly awake. We arrived at the end of our journey at about six o’clock, and found most comfortable accommodations prepared for us at a little cottage, built somewhat in the style of a Swiss châlet, and kept by the company for the use of their guests or for the directors of the road. An excellent dinner awaited us at the little hotel just opposite, the door of which is shaded by two stately palms; and with a ramble in the neighboring grounds of Senhor Lage, and a concert by a band of German musicians, consisting of employees on the road, our day closed,—a day full of pleasure.

The following morning we were indebted to Senhor Lage for a walk, as instructive as it was charming, through his gardens and orange orchards. Not only has he arranged his grounds with exquisite taste, but has endeavored to bring together the shrubs and trees most characteristic of the country, so that a stroll through his place is a valuable lesson to the botanist, the more so if he is fortunate enough to have the proprietor as a companion, for he may then learn the name and history of every tree and flower he passes. Such a guide is invaluable here, for the Brazilians seem to remain in blissful ignorance of systematic nomenclature; to most of them all flowers are “flores,” all animals, from a fly up to a mule or an elephant, “bixos.” One of the most beautiful features of Senhor Lage’s grounds is a plantation of parasites,—an extensive walk, bordered on either side by a rustic fence, over which are trained some of the most exquisite parasitic plants of the Brazilian forests. In the midst of this walk is the Grotto of the Princesses, so called after the daughters of the Emperor who, on occasion of a visit made by the Imperial family to Juiz de Fora, at the opening of the road, were exceedingly pleased with this pretty spot, where a spring all overhung with parasitic vines, orchids, &c. flows out from the rock. The spring, however, is artificial, and is a part of the admirable system of irrigation introduced over the whole estate. So rapid is the growth of everything here that one can hardly believe this beautiful country place to have been under cultivation only five or six years; a few years more under the same direction will make it a tropical paradise.

A variety of plans combining pleasure and science had been arranged for the next day. First on the list was a drive to the “Forest of the Empress.” Everything of any interest in the neighborhood recalls the visit of the Imperial family at the opening of the road. From this event all loyal Juiz de Forans date, and the virgin forest we were to visit is consecrated by the fact that on this great occasion the Emperor with his family and suite breakfasted here in presence of a numerous assemblage of their loving subjects. Surely a more stately banqueting-hall could scarcely be found. The throne was cut in the broad buttressed trunk of a huge figueira; the rustic table, built of rough stems, stood under the shadow of great palm-trees; and around was the tropical forest, tapestried with vines, and embroidered with Orchids. These were royal accompaniments, even though the whole entertainment was conducted with a simplicity in harmony with the scene. Neither gold nor silver nor glass was brought to vie with the beauties of nature; the drinking-cups were made from the hollow stems of the wild bamboo-tree, and all the service was of the same rustic description. The tables, seats, &c. stand, undisturbed, as they were on that day, and of course this spot remains a favorite resort for humbler picnics than the one by which it was inaugurated. We wandered about for some time in the cool shade of the wood, lunched under the rustling palms, and then drove homeward, stopping for a while by the side of the river, where a pretty cascade rushes over the stones, and a rustic house built for the same memorable occurrence makes a pleasant resting-place. In the afternoon a heavy rain kept us within doors, but we were not sorry, for we were in danger of having a surfeit of pleasure, and quiet was very grateful.

A great part of our last day at Juiz de Fora was spent at the hospitable house of Mr. Halfeld, the German engineer who has gained an honorable distinction by his explorations in the interior. His work on the Rio San Francisco was well known to Mr. Agassiz, so that they found themselves at once on familiar ground, and Mr. Halfeld was able to give him a great deal of valuable information respecting the prospects of the present expedition, especially that department of it which will go to the Amazons by way of the Rio San Francisco and the Tocantins. He has also an interesting collection of objects of natural history, and cordially offered his assistance in obtaining the fishes of the neighborhood. As for the collections, they had been going on famously during our whole visit. We had hardly been in Juiz de Fora twenty-four hours before a dozen collectors were actively at work. All the urchins of the neighborhood and many of the Germans employed on the road lent a helping hand. Even the ladies did their full share, and Mr. Agassiz was indebted to our friend Mrs. K—— for some of the most interesting specimens from this locality. No doubt such as were left of the “bixos” of Juiz de Fora must have congratulated themselves on our departure the following morning.

We enjoyed our return over the same road scarcely less than our first introduction to it; but the latter part of the day was full of an interest which touched us more nearly. At Posse, where we had breakfasted on our way up, Mr. Taylor welcomed us with a Portuguese paper containing a bulletin announcing the great victories of the North. Petersburg and Richmond taken,—Lee in full retreat,—the war virtually over. This was the substance of the news received with delight and acclamation, not without tears of gratitude also, and we went on our way rejoicing. As we drove up to the Hotel Inglez after dark that evening, hoping to get a glimpse of an American paper, or at least to have the good news confirmed through the American Minister, General Webb, whose residence is at Petropolis, we were greeted by the announcement of the assassination of Lincoln and Seward, both believed at this time to be dead. At first it seemed absolutely incredible, and the more sanguine among us persisted in regarding it as a gigantic street rumor, invented perhaps by Secession sympathizers, till on our return to town the next morning our worst fears were confirmed by the French steamer just arrived. The days seemed very long till the next mail, which reassured us somewhat, as it brought the news of Mr. Seward’s probable recovery and strengthened our faith in the stability of the national character. All the accounts, public and private, assure us that, though there is mourning throughout the land, there is no disturbance of the general regularity and order.

CHAPTER III.
LIFE IN RIO CONTINUED.—FAZENDA LIFE.

Botafogo.—Insane Hospital.—Tijuca.—Erratic Drift.—Vegetation.—Birthday Dinner.—Arrangements for Parties to the Interior.—Public Lectures in Rio.—Procession of St. George.—Leave Rio on Excursion to the Fortaleza de Santa Anna.—Localities for Erratic Drift between Rio and Petropolis.—Departure from Juiz de Fora.—Arrival at the Fazenda.—Ride in the Forest.—Eve of San Joaō.—Cupim Nests.—Excursion to the Upper Fazenda.—Grand Hunt.—Picnic.—Coffee Plantation.—Return to Rio.—Mimic Snow-Fields.—Coffee Insect spinning its Nest.—Visit to the Fazenda of Commendador Breves.—Botanizing Excursion to Tijuca.—Preparations for leaving Rio.—Major Coutinho.—Collegio Dom Pedro Segundo.

Botafogo Bay.

May 22d.—This afternoon Dr. and Mrs. C—— and myself went out for a country ramble, somewhat at a venture, it is true, but feeling sure that in the beautiful scenery about Rio we could hardly go amiss. We took one of the many ferry-boats in the neighborhood of our hotel, and presently found ourselves on the way to Botafogo. Almost all the environs of the city are built along beaches; there is the beach or Praia of Botafogo, the Praia of San Christovāo, the Praia of San Domingo, and half a dozen others, all of which mean some suburb of the town situated on the shore with a beach in front of it. As it is rather the fashion for the better class of people to live out of town, the houses and gardens in these suburbs are often delightful. We enjoyed the sail exceedingly. For a part of the way the boat keeps close under the mountains, and no description can give an idea of their picturesque outlines, or of the wonderful coloring which softens all their asperities and mellows the whole landscape. We landed at a jetty thrown out from a romantic-looking road, and as we found no carriage on the wharf, and ascertained that the boat did not return for two hours, we wandered up this road to see where chance would lead us. The afternoon would have been full of interest had it ended in the walk along the crescent-shaped bay, with the water rippling on the sands, and the mountains opposite all purple in the afternoon sunshine. The road brought us, however, to a magnificent hospital for the insane, the hospital of Dom Pedro Segundo, which we had seen and admired from the deck of the steamer on the day of our arrival. We entered the grounds, and as the great door of the building was open and the official on guard looked by no means forbidding, we ascended the steps and went in. It is difficult to imagine an edifice more appropriate for the purpose to which it is devoted. It is true we saw only the public rooms and corridors, as a permit was required to enter the wards; but a plan hanging near the entrance gave us an idea of the arrangement of the building, and its general aspect bore testimony to the cleanliness, cheerfulness, and order of the establishment. Some of the public rooms were very handsome,—especially one, at the end of which stands a statue of the boy Emperor, taken, no doubt, at the time of his coronation. In the man of forty you still recognize the frank, intelligent, manly face of the lad on whom such great responsibility was thrown at the age of fifteen. As we went up the spacious staircase, the sound of music brought us to the door of the chapel, where the evening service was going on. Patients and nurses were kneeling together; a choir of female voices was singing sweetly a calm, peaceful kind of music; that somewhat monotonous chanting, so passionless in its regular movement, which one hears in the Catholic Church; the candles were burning before the altar, but the great window just outside the door was open to the setting sun, and, as I stood in the balcony looking out on the mountains and listening to the music, I thought that a mind which had gone astray might find its way back again in such scenes and under such influences. Certainly, if nature has any healing power, it must be felt here. We lingered and listened as long as we dared, and stole away as the services were closing, just in time to take the evening boat.

Mina Negress.

May 25th.—The fish-market is, in all seaport towns, a favorite haunt with Mr. Agassiz, and here it has an especial interest for him on account of the variety and beauty of the fishes brought in every morning. I sometimes accompany him in these rambles for the pleasure of seeing the fresh loads of oranges, flowers, and vegetables, and of watching the picturesque negro groups selling their wares or sitting about in knots to gossip. We have already learned that the fine-looking athletic negroes of a nobler type, at least physically, than any we see in the States, are the so-called Mina negroes, from the province of Mina, in Western Africa. They are a very powerful-looking race, and the women especially are finely made and have quite a dignified presence. I am never tired of watching them in the street and market, where they are to be seen in numbers, being more commonly employed as venders of fruit and vegetables than as house-servants. It is said that a certain wild and independent element in their character makes them unfit for domestic service. The women always wear a high muslin turban, and a long, bright-colored shawl, either crossed on the breast and thrown carelessly over the shoulder, or, if the day be chilly, drawn closely around them, their arms hidden in its folds. The amount of expression they throw into the use of this shawl is quite amazing. I watched a tall, superbly made woman in the street to-day who was in a great passion. Gesticulating violently, she flung her shawl wide, throwing out both arms, then, drawing it suddenly in, folded it about her, and stretched herself to her full height; presently opening it once more, she shook her fist in the face of her opponent, and then, casting one end of her long drapery over her shoulder, stalked away with the air of a tragedy queen. It serves as a cradle also, for, tying it loosely round their hips, they slip the baby into the folds behind, and there it hangs, rocked to sleep by the mother’s movement as she walks on with her long, swinging tread. The Mina negress is almost invariably remarkable for her beautiful hand and arm. She seems to be conscious of this, and usually wears close-fitting bracelets at the wrist, made of some bright-colored beads, which set off the form of the hand and are exceedingly becoming on her dark, shining skin. These negroes are Mohammedans, and are said to remain faithful to their prophet, though surrounded by the observances of the Catholic Church. They do not seem to me so affable and responsive as the Congo negroes, but are, on the contrary, rather haughty. One morning I came upon a cluster of them in the market breakfasting after their work was done, and I stopped to talk with them, asking what they had for breakfast, and trying various subjects on which to open an acquaintance. But they looked at me coldly and suspiciously, barely answering my questions, and were evidently relieved when I walked away.

Mina Negress and Child.

May 26th.—Tijuca. In the pleasant environs of Rio there is no resort more frequented than the establishment of Mr. Bennett at Tijuca, and we were not sorry the day before yesterday to leave the hot, dusty city, with a pleasant party of friends, for this cluster of mountains, some eighteen hundred feet above the sea level and about eight miles from Rio. It takes its name from the peak of Tijuca, so conspicuous an object in the coast range. On our arrival we were very cordially welcomed by our host himself, who was not quite a stranger to us, for Mr. Agassiz has been already indebted to him for valuable collections. Mr. Bennett has an Englishman’s love of nature, and is very familiar with the botany and zoölogy of the beautiful region which has been his home for many years. Under his guidance, we have taken a number of pleasant rambles and rides, regretting only that we cannot avail ourselves for a longer time of his intimate knowledge of the locality and its productions.

I have alluded before to the perplexing character of the geology, and the almost universal decomposition of the rock surfaces, making it difficult to decipher them. The presence of the drift phenomena, so universal in the Northern hemisphere, has been denied here; but, in his long walk to-day, Mr. Agassiz has had an opportunity of observing a great number of erratic boulders, having no connection with the rocks in place, and also a sheet of drift studded with boulders and resting above the partially stratified metamorphic rock in immediate contact with it. I introduce here a letter written by him to his friend, Professor Peirce of Harvard University, under the first impression of the day’s experience, which will best explain his view of the subject.

“May 27th, 1865, Tijuca.

“My dear Peirce:—

“Yesterday was one of the happiest days of my life, and I want to share it with you. Here I am at Tijuca, a cluster of hills, about eighteen hundred feet high and some seven or eight miles from Rio, in a charming cottage-like hotel, from the terrace of which you see a drift hill with innumerable erratic boulders, as characteristic as any I have ever seen in New England. I had before seen sundry unmistakable traces of drift, but there was everywhere connected with the drift itself such an amount of decomposed rocks of various kinds, that, though I could see the drift and distinguish it from the decomposed primary rocks in place, on account of my familiarity with that kind of deposits, yet I could probably never have satisfied anybody else that there is here an equivalent of the Northern drift, had I not found yesterday, near Bennett’s hotel at Tijuca, the most palpable superposition of drift and decomposed rocks, with a distinct line of demarcation between the two, of which I shall secure a good photograph. This locality afforded me at once an opportunity of contrasting the decomposed rocks which form a characteristic feature of the whole country (as far as I have yet seen it) with the superincumbent drift, and of making myself familiar with the peculiarities of both deposits; so that I trust I shall be able hereafter to distinguish both, whether they are in contact with one another or found separately. These decomposed rocks are quite a new feature to me in the structure of the country. Imagine granite, gneiss, mica slate, clay slate, and in fact all the various kinds of rocks usually found in old metamorphic formations, reduced to the condition of a soft paste, exhibiting all the mineralogical elements of the rocks, as they may have been before they were decomposed, but now completely disintegrated and resting side by side, as if they had been accumulated artificially in the manner you have seen glass cylinders filled with variously colored sands or clays to imitate the appearance of the beds of Gay-Head. And through this loose mass there run, here and there, larger or smaller dikes of quartz-rock or of granite or other rocks equally disintegrated; but they retain the arrangement of their materials, showing them to be disintegrated dikes in large disintegrated masses of rock; the whole passing unmistakably to rocks of the same kind in which the decomposition or disintegration is only partial, or no trace of it visible, and the whole mass exhibiting then the appearance of an ordinary metamorphic set of rocks.

“That such masses forming everywhere the surface of the country should be a great obstacle to the study of the erratic phenomena is at once plain, and I do not therefore wonder that those who seem familiar with the country should now entertain the idea that the surface rocks are everywhere decomposed, and that there is no erratic formation or drift here. But upon close examination it is easy to perceive that, while the decomposed rocks consist of small particles of the primitive rocks which they represent, with their dikes and all other characteristic features, there is not a trace of larger or smaller boulders in them; while the superincumbent drift, consisting of a similar paste, does not show the slightest sign of the indistinct stratification characteristic of the decomposed metamorphic rocks below it, nor any of the decomposed dikes, but is full of various kinds of boulders of various dimensions. I have not yet traced the boulders to their origin; but the majority consist of a kind of greenstone composed of equal amounts of a greenish black hornblende and feldspar. In Entre Rios on the Parahyba, I was told by an engineer on the road that in Minas Geräes iron mines are worked in a rock like these boulders. This week I propose to explore the Serra da Mantiqueira,[^[32]] which separates the province of Rio from Minas, and may advance the question further. But you see that I need not go to the Andes to find erratics, though it may yet be necessary for me to go, in order to trace the evidence of glacier action in the accumulation of this drift; for you will notice that I have only given you the evidence of extensive accumulations of drift similar in its characteristics to Northern drift. But I have not yet seen a trace of glacial action properly speaking, if polished surfaces and scratches and furrows are especially to be considered as such.

“The decomposition of the surface rocks to the extent to which it takes place here is very remarkable, and points to a new geological agency, thus far not discussed in our geological theories. It is obvious here (and to-day with the pouring rain which keeps me in doors I have satisfactory evidence of it) that the warm rains falling upon the heated soil must have a very powerful action in accelerating the decomposition of rocks. It is like torrents of hot water falling for ages in succession upon hot stones. Think of the effect, and, instead of wondering at the large amount of decomposed rocks which you meet everywhere, you will be surprised that there are any rocks left in their primitive condition. It is, however, the fact, that all the rocks you see are encased, as it were, in a lining of the decomposed part of their surface; they are actually covered with a rotten crust of their own substance.

“Ever truly yours,

“L. Agassiz.”

Among the objects of special interest which we have seen here for the first time are the colossal fruits of the Sapucaia-tree, a species of Lecythis, belonging to the same family as the Brazilian nuts. These fruits, of which there are a number of species, vary from the size of an apple to that of an ordinary melon; they resemble an urn closed with a lid, and contain about fifty seeds as large as almonds. The woods all over these Tijuca hills are beautiful and wonderfully luxuriant; but I lack names for the various trees. We are not yet familiar enough with the aspect of the forest to distinguish readily its different forms of vegetation; and it is besides exceedingly difficult here to ascertain the common names of plants. The Brazilians do not seem to me observant of nature in its details; at all events, I never get a satisfactory answer to the question I am constantly putting, “What do you call this tree or flower?” And if you ask a botanist, he invariably gives you the scientific, not the popular name, nor does he seem to be aware that any such exists. I have a due respect for nomenclature, but when I inquire the name of some very graceful tree or some exquisite flower, I like to receive a manageable answer, something that may fitly be introduced into the privacy of domestic life, rather than the ponderous official Latin appellation. We are struck with the variety of Melastomas in full flower now, and very conspicuous, from their large purple blossoms, and have remarked also several species of the Bombaceæ, easily distinguished by their peculiar foliage and large cotton fruits. The Candelabra-tree (Cecropia) is abundant here, as throughout the neighborhood of Rio, and is covered at this season with fruit resembling somewhat the fruit of the bread-tree, but more slender and cylindrical in form. Large Euphorbias, of the size of forest-trees, also attract our attention, for it is the first time we have seen them except as shrubs, such as the “Estrella do Norte” (Poinsettia). But there is before Mr. Bennett’s house a very large nut-tree, “Nogueira,” of this family. The palms are numerous; among them the Astrocaryum Cari, whose spiny stems and leaves make it difficult to approach, is very common. Its bunches of bright chestnut-brown fruit hang from between the leaves which form its crown, each bunch about a foot in length, massive and compact, like a large cluster of black Hamburg grapes. The Syagrus palm is also frequent; it has a greenish fruit not unlike the olive in appearance, also hanging in large pendent bunches just below the leaves. The mass of foliage is everywhere knit together by parasitic vines without number, and every dead branch or fallen trunk is overgrown by parasites. Foreign tropical trees are cultivated about the houses everywhere,—bread-fruit trees and Ameixas, a kind of plum of the hawthorn family, bananas, etc. The bamboo of the East Indies also is used to form avenues in Rio de Janeiro and its environs. The alleys of bamboo in the grounds of the palace at San Christovāo are among its most beautiful ornaments.

Fallen Trunk overgrown by Parasites.

Mr. Agassiz has been surprised to find that shrimps of considerable size are common in all the brooks and even in the highest pools of Tijuca. It seems strange to meet with Crustacea of marine forms in mountain streams.

To-day we are kept in the house by a violent rain, but there is enough to do in looking over specimens, working up journals, writing letters, &c., to prevent the time from hanging heavy on our hands. To-morrow we return to town.

May 28th, Rio.—To-day is Mr. Agassiz’s birthday, and it has been so affectionately remembered here that it is difficult to believe ourselves in a foreign country. The Swiss citizens gave him a dinner yesterday on the eve of the anniversary, where everything recalled the land of his birth, without excluding the land of his adoption. The room was draped with the flags of all the Cantons, while the ceiling was covered by two Swiss national flags, united in the centre just above his own seat by the American flag, thus recognizing at once his Swiss nationality and his American citizenship.[^[33]] The Brazilian flag which gave them all hospitality and protection had also an honored place. The fête is reported to have been most genial and gay, closing with a number of student songs in which all bore their share, and succeeded by a serenade under our windows. To-day our room is festive with flowers and other decorations, and friendly greetings on every side remind us that, though in a foreign land, we are not among strangers.

June 14th.—Since our return from Tijuca we have been almost constantly in town, Mr. Agassiz being engaged, often from early morning till deep into the night, in taking care of the specimens which come in from every quarter, and making the final preparations for the parties which he intends sending into the interior. The most important of these, or rather the one for which it is most difficult to procure the necessary facilities, is bound for the upper course of the San Francisco. At this point one or more of their number will strike across the country to the Tocantins, and descend that river to the Amazons, while the others will follow the valley of the Piauhy to the coast. This is a long, difficult, but, as we are assured, not a dangerous journey for young and vigorous men. But wishing to anticipate every trouble that may befall them, Mr. Agassiz has made it his business to ascertain, as far as possible, the nature of the route, and to obtain letters to the most influential people for every step of the road. This has been no light task; in a country where there are no established means of internal communication, where mules, guides, camaradas, and even an armed escort may be necessary, and must be provided for in advance, the preparation for a journey through the interior requires a vast deal of forethought. Add to this the national habit of procrastination, the profound conviction of the Brazilian that to-morrow is better than to-day, and one may understand how it happens that, although it has been a primary object since our arrival to expedite the party to the Tocantins, their departure has been delayed till now. And yet it would be the height of ingratitude to give the impression that there has been any backwardness on the part of the Brazilians themselves, or of their government, to facilitate the objects of the expedition. On the contrary, they not only show a warm interest, but the utmost generosity, and readiness to give all the practical aid in their power. Several leading members of the Cabinet, the Senate, and the House of Representatives have found time now, when they have a war upon their hands, and when one ministry has been going out and another coming in, not only to prepare the necessary introductions for these parties from Rio to the Amazons, but also to write out the routes, giving the most important directions and information for the separate journeys.[^[34]] Yet with the best will in the world the Brazilians know comparatively little of the interior of their own country. It is necessary to collect all that is known from a variety of sources, and then to combine it as well as may be, so as to form an organized plan. Even then a great deal must be left to be decided in accordance with circumstances which no one can foresee. No pains have been spared to anticipate all the probable difficulties, and to provide for them as far as it is humanly possible to do so; and we feel that this journey, a part of which has been made by very few persons before, has never been undertaken under better auspices. This party will explore the upper course of the Rio Doce, the Rio das Velhas, and the San Francisco, with the lower course of the Tocantins and its tributaries, as far as they can; making also collections of fossils in certain regions upon the route. Another party, starting at about the same time, is to keep nearer the coast, exploring the lower course of the Rio Doce and the San Francisco. Mr. Agassiz thus hopes to make at least a partial survey of this great water system, while he himself undertakes the Amazons and its tributaries.[^[35]] In the mean time, the result of the weeks he has been obliged to spend in Rio, while organizing the work of these parties and making the practical arrangements for its prosecution, has been very satisfactory. The collections are large, and will give a tolerably complete idea of the fauna of this province, as well as a part of that of Minas Geräes. A survey of the Dom Pedro Railroad, made under his direction by his two young friends, Messrs. Hart and St. John, is also an excellent beginning of the work in this department, and his own observations on the drift phenomena have an important bearing on the great questions on which he hoped to throw new light in coming here. The closing words of a lecture delivered by him last evening at the Collegio Dom Pedro Segundo will best express his own estimation of the facts he has collected in their bearing on the drift phenomena in other parts of the world. After giving some account of the erratic blocks and drift observed by him at Tijuca and already described in his letter to Mr. Peirce, he added: “I wish here to make a nice distinction that I may not be misunderstood. I affirm that the erratic phenomena, viz. erratic drift, in immediate superposition with partially decomposed stratified rock, exist here in your immediate neighborhood; I believe that these phenomena are connected, here as elsewhere, with the action of ice. It is nevertheless possible that a more intimate study of these subjects in tropical regions may reveal some phase of the phenomena not hitherto observed, just as the investigation of the glacial action in the United States has shown that immense masses of ice may move over a plain, as well as over a mountain slope. Let me now urge a special study of these facts upon the young geologists of Rio, as they have never been investigated and their presence is usually denied. If you ask me, ‘To what end?—of what use is such a discovery?’—I answer, It is given to no mortal man to predict what may be the result of any discovery in the realms of nature. When the electric current was discovered, what was it? A curiosity. When the first electric machine was invented, to what use was it put? To make puppets dance for the amusement of children. To-day it is the most powerful engine of civilization. But should our work have no other result than this,—to know that certain facts in nature are thus and not otherwise, that their causes were such and no others,—this result in itself is good enough, and great enough, since the end of man, his aim, his glory, is the knowledge of the truth.”

One word upon these lectures, since we are told by the Brazilians themselves that the introduction of public lectures among them is a novelty and in a certain sense an era in their educational history. If any subject of science or letters is to be presented to the public here, it is done under special conditions before a selected audience, where the paper is read in presence of the Emperor with all due solemnity. Popular instruction, with admittance for all who care to listen or to learn, has been hitherto a thing unknown. The suggestion was made by Dr. Pacheco, the Director of the Collegio Dom Pedro II., a man of liberal culture and great intelligence, who has already done much for the progress of education in Rio de Janeiro; it found favor with the Emperor, who is keenly alive to anything which can stimulate the love of knowledge among his people, and at his request Mr. Agassiz has given a course of lectures in French on a variety of scientific subjects. He was indeed very glad to have an opportunity of introducing here a means of popular education which he believes to have been very salutary in its influence among us. At first the presence of ladies was objected to, as too great an innovation on national habits; but even that was overcome, and the doors were opened to all comers, the lectures being given after the true New England fashion. I must say that, if the absolutely uninterrupted attention of an audience is any test of its intelligence, no man could ask a better one than that which Mr. Agassiz has had the pleasure of addressing in Rio de Janeiro. It has also been a great pleasure to him, after teaching for nearly twenty years in English, to throw off the fetters of a foreign tongue and speak again in French. After all, with a few exceptions, a man’s native language remains for him the best; it is the element in which he always moves most at ease.

The Emperor, with his family, has been present at all these lectures, and it is worthy of note, as showing the simplicity of his character, that, instead of occupying the raised platform intended for them, he caused the chairs to be placed on a level with the others, as if to show that in science at least there is no distinction of rank.[^[36]]

June 11th.—To-day has been a festa, but one the significance of which it is somewhat difficult to understand, so singularly is the religious element mingled with the grotesque and quaint. In the Church it is the feast of Corpus Christi, but it happens to fall on the same date as another festival in honor of St. George, which is kept with all sorts of antique ceremonies. I went in the morning with our young friend, Mr. T——, to the Imperial chapel, where high mass was celebrated, and at the close of the services we had some difficulty in finding our way back to the hotel, before which the procession was to pass, for the street was already draped with all sorts of gay colors and crowded with spectators. First in order came the religious part of the procession; a long array of priests and church officials carrying lighted candles, pyramids of flowers, banners, &c. Then came the host, under a canopy of white satin and gold, supported by massive staffs; the bearers were the highest dignitaries of the land, first among them being the Emperor himself and his son-in-law, the Duke of Saxe. In strange contrast with these solemnities was the stuffed equestrian figure of St. George, a huge, unwieldy shape on horseback, preceded and followed by riders almost as grotesque as himself. With him came a number of orders resembling, if not the same as, the Free-Masons, the Odd Fellows, and like societies. The better educated Brazilians speak of this procession as an old legacy from Portugal, which has lost its significance for them, and which they would gladly see pass out of use, as it is already out of date.

This evening Mr. Agassiz gave the closing lecture of his course. It is to be followed next week by a lecture from Dr. Capanema, the Brazilian geologist, and there will be an attempt made to organize courses of public lectures on the same plan hereafter. Our numbers are gradually diminishing. Last week the party for the interior, consisting of Messrs. St. John, Allen, Ward, and Sceva, started, and Messrs. Hartt and Copeland leave in a day or two to undertake an exploration of the coast between the Parahyba do Sul and Bahia.

June 30th.—On the 21st we left Rio on our way to the province of Minas Geräes, where we were to pass a week at the coffee fazenda of Senhor Lage, who received us so courteously on our former visit to Juiz de Fora, and who was so influential in projecting and carrying out the Union and Industry road. The journey to Juiz de Fora, though we had made it once before, had lost nothing of its beauty by familiarity, and had gained in interest of another kind; for his examination of the erratic drift at Tijuca has given Mr. Agassiz the key to the geological constitution of the soil, and what seemed to him quite inexplicable on our first excursion over this road is now perfectly legible. It is interesting to watch the progress of an investigation of this character, and to see how the mental process gradually clears away the obscurity. The perception becomes sharpened by dwelling upon the subject, and the mind adapts itself to a difficult problem as the eye adapts itself to darkness. That which was confused at first presently becomes clear to the mental vision of the observer, who watches and waits for the light to enter. There is one effect of the atmospheric influence here, already alluded to in the previous pages, which at first sight is very deceptive. Wherever there is any cut through drift, unless recently opened, it becomes baked at the surface so as to simulate stone in such a way as hardly to be distinguished from the decomposed rock surfaces in place, unless by a careful examination. This, together with the partial obliteration of the stratification in many places, makes it, at first glance, difficult to recognize the point of contact between the stratified rock and the drift resting above it. A little familiarity with these deceptive appearances, however, makes it as easy to read the broken leaves of the book of nature here as elsewhere, and Mr. Agassiz has now no more difficulty in following the erratic phenomena in these Southern regions than in the Northern hemisphere. All that is wanting to complete the evidence of the actual presence of ice here, in former times, is the glacial writing, the striæ and furrows and polish which mark its track in the temperate zone. These one can hardly hope to find where the rock is of so perishable a character and its disintegration so rapid. But this much is certain,—a sheet of drift covers the country, composed of a homogeneous paste without trace of stratification, containing loose materials of all sorts and sizes, imbedded in it without reference to weight, large boulders, smaller stones, pebbles, and the like. This drift is very unevenly distributed; sometimes rising into high hills, owing to the surrounding denudations; sometimes covering the surface merely as a thin layer; sometimes, and especially on steep slopes, washed completely away, leaving the bare face of the rock; sometimes deeply gullied, so as to produce a succession of depressions and elevations alternating with each other. To this latter cause is due, in great degree, the billowy, undulating character of the valleys. Another cause of difficulty in tracing the erratic phenomena consists in the number of detached fragments which have fallen from the neighboring heights. It is not always easy to distinguish these from the erratic boulders. But a number of localities exist, nevertheless, where the drift rests immediately above stratified rock, with the boulders protruding from it, the line of contact being perfectly distinct. It is a curious fact, that one may follow the drift everywhere in this region by the prosperous coffee plantations. Here as elsewhere ice has been the great fertilizer,—a gigantic plough grinding the rocks to powder and making a homogeneous soil in which the greatest variety of chemical elements are brought together from distant localities. So far as we have followed these phenomena in the provinces of Rio and Minas Geräes, the thriving coffee plantations are upon erratic drift, the poorer growth upon decomposed rock in place. Upon remarking this, we were told that the farmers who are familiar with the soil select that in which they find loose rocks imbedded, because it is the most fertile. They unconsciously seek the erratic drift. It may not be amiss to point out some of the localities in which these geological phenomena may be most readily studied, since they lie along the public road, and are easy of access. The drift is very evident in the swamp between Mauá and Raiz da Serra on the way to Petropolis. In ascending the Serra at the half-way house there is an excellent locality for observing drift and boulders; and beyond one may follow the drift up to the very top of the road. The whole tract between Villa Theresa and Petropolis is full of drift. Just outside of Petropolis, the Piabanha has excavated its bed in drift, while the banks have been ravined by the rains. At the station of Correio, in front of the building, is also an admirable opportunity for observing all the erratic phenomena, for here the drift, with large boulders interspersed throughout the mass, overlies the rock in place. A few steps to the north of the station Pedro do Rio there is another great accumulation of large boulders in drift. These are but a few of the localities where such facts may be observed.

On the evening of the 22d we arrived at Juiz de Fora, and started at sunrise the next morning for the fazenda of Senhor Lage, some thirty miles beyond. We had a gay party, consisting of the family of Senhor Lage and that of his brother-in-law, Senhor Machado, with one or two other friends and ourselves. The children were as merry as possible, for a visit to the fazenda was a rarity, and looked upon by them as a great festivity. To transport us all with our luggage, two large coaches were provided, several mules, and a small carriage, while a travelling photographic machine, belonging to Senhor Machado, who is an admirable photographist, brought up the rear.[^[37]] The day was beautiful and our road lay along the side of the Serra, commanding fine views of the inland country and the coffee plantations which covered the hillsides wherever the primeval forest had been cut down. The road is another evidence of the intelligence and energy of the proprietor. The old roads are mere mule tracks up one side of the Serra and down the other, gullied of course by all the heavy rains and rendered at times almost impassable. Senhor Lage has shown his neighbors what may be done for their comfort in a country life by abandoning the old method, and, instead of carrying the road across the mountain, cutting it in the side with so gradual an ascent as to make the ride a very easy one. It is but a four hours’ drive now from Juiz de Fora to the fazenda, whereas, until the last year, it was a day’s, or even in bad weather a two days’ journey on horseback. It is much to be desired that his example should be followed, for the absence of any tolerable roads in the country makes travelling in the interior almost an impossibility, and is the most serious obstacle to the general progress and prosperity. It seems strange that the governments of the different provinces, at least of the more populous ones, such as Minas Geräes and Rio, should not organize a system of good highways for the greater facility of commerce. The present mode of transportation on mule back is slow and cumbrous in the highest degree; it would seem as if, where the produce of the interior is so valuable, good roads would pay for themselves very soon.

Fazenda de Santa Anna in Minas Geraës.

At about eleven o’clock we arrived at the “Fazenda,” the long, low, white buildings of which enclosed an oblong, open space divided into large squares, where the coffee was drying. Only a part of this extensive building is occupied as the living rooms of the family; the rest is devoted to all sorts of objects connected with the care of the coffee, provision for the negroes, and the like.

When we reached the plantation the guests had not all arrived. The special occasion of this excursion to the fazenda was the festival of San João, kept always with great ceremonies in the country; the whole week was to be devoted to hunting, and Senhor Lage had invited all the best sportsmen in the neighborhood to join in the chase. It will be seen in the end that these hunters formed themselves into a most valuable corps of collectors for Mr. Agassiz. After an excellent breakfast we started on horseback for the forest with such of the company as had already assembled. The ride through the dense, deep, quiet wood was beautiful; and the dead pause when some one thought the game was near, the hushed voices, the breathless waiting for the shot which announced success or failure, only added a charm to the scene. They have a strange way of hunting here; as the forest is perfectly impenetrable, they scatter food in a cleared space for the animals, and build green screens, leaving holes to look through; behind such a screen the hunter waits and watches for hours perhaps, till the paca, or peccary, or capivara steals out to feed. The ladies dismounted and found a cool seat in one of these forest lodges, where they waited for the hunt. No great success, after all, this afternoon, but some birds which were valuable as specimens. We rode home in the evening to a late dinner, after which an enormous bonfire, built by the negroes in honor of the Eve of St. João, was lighted in front of the house. The scene was exceedingly picturesque, the whole establishment, the neighboring negro huts, and the distant forest being illuminated by the blaze, around which the blacks were dancing, accompanying their wild gestures with song and drum. Every now and then a burst of fireworks added new brightness to the picture.

The next day, the 24th, began with a long ride on horseback before breakfast, after which I accompanied Mr. Agassiz on a sort of exploration among the Cupim nests (the nests of the Termites). These are mounds sometimes three or four or even six feet high, and from two to three or four feet in diameter, of an extraordinary solidity, almost as hard as rock. Senhor Lage sent with us several negroes carrying axes to split them open, which, with all their strength, proved no easy task. These nests appear usually to have been built around some old trunk or root as a foundation; the interior, with its endless serpentine passages, looked not unlike the convolutions of a meandrina or brain coral; the walls of the passages seemed to be built of earth that had been chewed or kneaded in some way, giving them somewhat the consistency of paper. The interior was quite soft and brittle, so that as soon as the negroes could break through the outer envelope, about six inches in thickness, the whole structure readily fell to pieces. It had no opening outside, but we found, on uprooting one of these edifices from the bottom, that the whole base was perforated with holes leading into the ground beneath. The interior of all of them swarmed with the different kinds of inhabitants; the little white ones, the larger black ones with brown heads and powerful forceps, and in each were found one or two very large swollen white ones, quite different in dimensions and appearance from the rest, probably the queens. With the assistance of the negroes, Mr. Agassiz made, for future examination, a large collection of all the different kinds of individuals thus living together in various numeric proportions, and he would gladly have carried away one of the nests, but they are too cumbersome for transportation. The Cupim nests are very different from the dwellings of the Sauba ants, which have large external openings. The latter make houses by excavating, and sometimes undermine a hill so extensively, with their long galleries, that when a fire is lighted at one of the entrances to exterminate them, the smoke issues at numerous openings, distant perhaps a quarter of a mile from each other, showing in how many directions they have tunnelled out the hill, and that their winding passages communicate with each other throughout. So many travellers have given accounts of these ant-houses, and of the activity of their inhabitants in stripping and carrying off the leaves of trees to deposit them in their habitations, that it hardly seems worth while to repeat the story. Yet no one can see without astonishment one of these ant-armies travelling along the road they have worn so neatly for themselves, those who are coming from the trees looking like a green procession, almost hidden by the fragments of leaves they carry on their backs, while the returning troops, who have already deposited their burden, are hurrying back for more. There seems to be another set of individuals running to and fro, whose office is not quite so clear, unless it be to marshal the whole swarm and act as a kind of police. This view is confirmed by an anecdote related by an American resident here, who told us that he once saw an ant, returning without his load to the house, stopped by one of these anomalous individuals, severely chastised and sent back to the tree apparently to do his appointed task. The Sauba ants are very injurious to the coffee shrubs, and difficult to exterminate.[^[38]]

In the afternoon, the hunters of the neighborhood began to come in and the party was considerably enlarged. This fazenda life, at least on an informal jovial occasion like this, has a fascinating touch of the Middle Ages in it. I am always reminded of this when we assemble for dinner in the large dimly lighted hall, where a long table, laden with game and with large haunches of meat, stands ready for the miscellaneous company, daily growing in numbers. At the upper end sit the family with their immediate guests; below, with his family, is the “Administrador,” whose office I suppose corresponds to that of overseer on a Southern plantation. In this instance he is a large picturesque-looking man, generally equipped in a kind of gray blouse strapped around the waist by a broad black belt, in which are powder-flask and knife, with a bugle slung over his shoulder, a slouched hat, and high top-boots. During dinner a number of chance cavaliers drop in, entirely without ceremony, in hunter’s costume, as they return from the chase. Then at night, or rather early in the morning, (for the Brazilian habit is “early to bed and early to rise,” in order to avoid the heat,) what jollity and song, sounding the bugles long before the dawn, twanging the guitar and whistling on the peculiar instrument used here to call the game. Altogether it is the most novel and interesting collection of social elements, mingling after a kind of picnic fashion without the least formality, and we feel every day how much we owe to our kind hosts for admitting us to an occasion where one sees so much of what is national and characteristic. The next day we went to breakfast at a smaller fazenda belonging also to Senhor Lage, higher up on the Serra da Babylonia. Again, starting before sunrise, we went slowly up the mountain, the summit of which is over 3,000 feet above the sea level. We were preceded by the “liteira,” a queer kind of car slung between two mules, in which rode the grandmamma and the baby; as carriages are impossible on these mountain roads, some such conveyance is necessary for those who are too old or too young for horseback travelling. The view was lovely, the morning cool and beautiful, and after a two hours’ ride we arrived at the upper fazenda. Here we left our horses and went on foot into the forest, where the ladies and children wandered about, gathering flowers and exploring the wood walks, while the gentlemen occupied themselves with fishing and hunting till midday, when we returned to the house to breakfast. The result of the chase was a monkey, two caititú (wild pigs), and a great variety of birds, all of which went to swell the scientific collections.[^[39]] We returned to dine at the lower fazenda, and all retired soon after, for the next day the great hunt of the week would take place, and we were to be early astir.

At dawn the horses were at the door, and we were mounting the Serra before sunrise. We were bound to a fazenda on the Serra da Babylonia, some two leagues from the one at which we were staying, and on higher ground, too high indeed for the culture of coffee, and devoted to pasture land. It is here that Senhor Lage has his horses and cattle. The ride along the zigzag road winding up the Serra was delightful in the early morning. The clouds were flushed with the dawn; the distant hills and the forest, spreading endlessly beneath us, glowed in the sunrise. The latter part of the road lay mostly through the woods, and brought us out, after some two hours’ ride, on the brow of a hill overlooking a small lake, sunk in a cuplike depression of the mountain, just beyond which was the fazenda. The scenic effect was very pretty, for the border of the lake was ornamented with flags, and on its waters floated a little miniature steamer with the American flag at one end and the Brazilian at the other. Our host invited us to ride in at the gate of the fazenda, in advance of the rest of our cavalcade, a request which we understood when, as we passed the entrance, the little steamer put into shore, and, firing a salute in our honor, showed its name, Agassiz, in full. It was a pleasant surprise very successfully managed. After the little excitement of this incident was over, we went to the house to tie up our riding-habits and prepare for the woods. We then embarked in the newly-christened boat and crossed the lake to a forest on the other side. Here were rustic tables and seats arranged under a tent where we were to breakfast; but while the meal was making ready and a fire building for the boiling of coffee, the stewing of chicken, rice, and other creature comforts, we wandered at will in the wood. This was the most beautiful, because the wildest and most primitive, specimen of tropical forest we have yet seen. I think no description prepares one for the difference between this forest and our own, even though the latter be the “forest primeval.” It is not merely the difference of the vegetation, but the impenetrability of the mass here that makes the density, darkness, and solemnity of the woods so impressive. It seems as if the mode of growth—many of the trees shooting up to an immense height, but branching only toward the top—were meant to give room to the legion of parasites, sipos, lianas, and climbing plants of all kinds which fill the intervening spaces. There is one fact which makes the study of the tropical forest as interesting to the geologist as to the botanist, namely, its relation to the vegetable world of past ages hidden in the rocks. The tree-ferns, the Chamærops, the Pandanus, the Araucarias, are all modern representatives of past types, and this walk in the forest was an important one to Mr. Agassiz, because he made out one of those laws of growth which unite the past and the present. The Chamærops is a palm belonging to the ancient vegetable world, but having its representatives in our days. The modern Chamærops, with its fan-like leaves spreading on one level, stands structurally lower than the Palms with pinnate leaves, which belong almost exclusively to our geological age, and have numerous leaflets arranged along either side of a central axis. The young Palms were exceedingly numerous, springing up at every step upon our path, some of them not more than two inches high, while their elders towered fifty feet above them. Mr. Agassiz gathered and examined great numbers of them, and found that the young Palms, to whatever genus they may belong, invariably resemble the Chamærops, having their leaves extending fan-like on one plane, instead of being scattered along a central axis, as in the adult tree. The infant Palm is in fact the mature Chamærops in miniature, showing that among plants as among animals, at least in some instances, there is a correspondence between the youngest stages of growth in the higher species of a given type and the earliest introduction of that type on earth.[^[40]]

At the close of our ramble, from which the Professor returned looking not unlike an ambulatory representative of tropical vegetation, being loaded down with palm-branches, tree-ferns, and the like, we found breakfast awaiting us. Some of our party were missing, however, the hunters having already taken their stations at some distance near the water. The game was an Anta (Tapir), a curious animal, abounding in the woods of this region. It has a special interest for the naturalist, because it resembles certain ancient mammalia now found only among the fossils, just as the tree-fern, Chamærops, &c. resemble past vegetable types. Although Mr. Agassiz had seen it in confinement, he had a great desire to observe it in action under its natural condition, and in the midst of a tropical forest as characteristic of old geological times as the creature itself. It was, in fact, to gratify this desire that Mr. Lage had planned the hunt. “L’homme propose et Dieu dispose,” however, and, as the sequel will show, we were not destined to see an Anta this day. The forest being, as I have said, impenetrable to the hunter, except where paths have been cut, the game is roused by sending the dogs into the wood, the sportsmen stationing themselves at certain distances on the outskirts. The Anta has his haunts near lakes or rivers, and when wearied and heated with the chase he generally makes for the water, and, springing in, is shot as he swims across. As we were lingering over the breakfast-table we heard the shout of Anta! Anta! In an instant every man sprang to his gun and ran down to the water-side, while we all stood waiting, listening to the cries of the dogs, now frantic with excitement, and expecting every moment the rush of the hunted animal and his spring into the lake. But it was a false alarm; the cries of the dogs died away in the distance: the day was colder than usual, the Anta turned back from the water, and, leading his pursuers a weary chase, was lost in the forest. After a time the dogs returned, looking tired and dispirited. But though we missed the Tapir, we saw enough of the sport to understand what makes the charm to the hunter of watching for hours in the woods, and perhaps returning, after all, empty-handed. If he does not get the game, he has the emotion; every now and then he thinks the creature is at hand, and he has a momentary agitation, heightened by the cries of the dogs and the answering cry of the sportsmen, who strive to arouse them to the utmost by their own shouts, and then if the animal turns back into the thicket all sound dies away, and to a very pandemonium of voices succeed the silence and solitude of the forest. All these things have their fascination, and explain to the uninitiated, to whom it seems at first incomprehensible, why these men will wait motionless for hours, and think themselves repaid (as I heard one of them declare) if they only hear the cry of the dogs and know they have roused the game, even if there be no other result. However, in this instance, we had plenty of other booty. The Anta lost, the hunters, who had carefully avoided firing hitherto, lest the sounds of their guns should give him warning, now turned their attention to lesser game, and we rode home in the afternoon rich in spoils, though without a Tapir.

The next day was that of our departure. Before leaving, we rode with Mr. Lage through his plantation, that we might understand something of the process of coffee culture in this country. I am not sure that, in giving an account of this model fazenda, we give a just idea of fazendas in general. Its owner carries the same large and comprehensive spirit, the same energy and force of will, into all his undertakings, and has introduced extensive reforms on his plantations. The Fazenda da Fortaleza de Santa Anna lies at the foot of the Serra da Babylonia. The house itself, as I have already said, makes a part of a succession of low white buildings, enclosing an oblong square divided into neat lots, destined for the drying of coffee. This drying of the coffee in the immediate vicinity of the house, though it seems a very general custom, must be an uncomfortable one; for the drying-lots are laid down in a dazzling white cement, from the glare of which, in this hot climate, the eye turns wearily away, longing for a green spot on which to rest. Just behind the house on the slope of the hill is the orangery. I am never tired of these golden orchards, and this was one of especial beauty. The small, deep-colored tangerines, sometimes twenty or thirty in one cluster, the large, choice orange, “Laranja selecta,” as it is called, often ten or twelve together in a single bunch, and bearing the branches to the ground with their weight; the paler “Limaō dôce,” or sweet lemon, rather insipid, but greatly esteemed here for its cool, refreshing properties,—all these, with many others,—for the variety of oranges is far greater than we of the temperate zone conceive it to be,—make a mass of color in which gold, deep orange, and pale yellow are blended wonderfully with the background of green. Beyond the house enclosure, on the opposite side of the road, are the gardens, with aviary, and fish-ponds in the centre. With these exceptions, all of the property which is not forest is devoted to coffee, covering all the hillsides for miles around. The seed is planted in nurseries especially prepared, where it undergoes its first year’s growth. It is then transplanted to its permanent home, and begins to bear in about three years, the first crop being of course a very light one. From that time forward, under good care and with favorable soil, it will continue to bear and even to yield two crops or more annually, for thirty years in succession. At that time the shrubs and the soil are alike exhausted, and, according to the custom of the country, the fazendeiro cuts down a new forest and begins a new plantation, completely abandoning his old one, without a thought of redeeming or fertilizing the exhausted land. One of the long-sighted reforms undertaken by our host is the manuring of all the old, deserted plantations on his estate; he has already a number of vigorous young plantations, which promise to be as good as if a virgin forest had been sacrificed to produce them. He wishes not only to preserve the wood on his own estate, and to show that agriculture need not be cultivated at the expense of taste and beauty, but to remind his country people also, that, extensive as are the forests, they will not last forever, and that it will be necessary to emigrate before long to find new coffee grounds, if the old ones are to be considered worthless. Another of his reforms is that of the roads, already alluded to. The ordinary roads in the coffee plantations, like the mule-tracks all over the country, are carried straight up the sides of the hills between the lines of shrubs, gullied by every rain, and offering, besides, so steep an ascent that even with eight or ten oxen it is often impossible to drive the clumsy, old-fashioned carts up the slope, and the negroes are obliged to bring a great part of the harvest down on their heads. An American, who has been a great deal on the coffee fazendas in this region, told me that he had seen negroes bringing enormous burdens of this kind on their heads down almost vertical slopes. On Senhor Lage’s estate all these old roads are abandoned, except where they are planted here and there with alleys of orange-trees for the use of the negroes, and he has substituted for them winding roads in the side of the hill with a very gradual ascent, so that light carts dragged by a single mule can transport all the harvest from the summit of the plantation to the drying-ground. It was the harvesting season, and the spectacle was a pretty one. The negroes, men and women, were scattered about the plantations with broad, shallow trays, made of plaited grass or bamboo, strapped over their shoulders and supported at their waists; into these they were gathering the coffee, some of the berries being brilliantly red, some already beginning to dry and turn brown, while here and there was a green one not yet quite ripe, but soon to ripen in the scorching sun. Little black children were sitting on the ground and gathering what fell under the bushes, singing at their work a monotonous but rather pretty snatch of song in which some took the first and others the second, making a not inharmonious music. As their baskets were filled they came to the Administrador to receive a little metal ticket on which the amount of their work was marked. A task is allotted to each one,—so much to a full-grown man, so much to a woman with young children, so much to a child,—and each one is paid for whatever he may do over and above it. The requisition is a very moderate one, so that the industrious have an opportunity of making a little money independently. At night they all present their tickets and are paid on the spot for any extra work. From the harvesting-ground we followed the carts down to the place where their burden is deposited. On their return from the plantation the negroes divide the day’s harvest, and dispose it in little mounds on the drying-ground. When pretty equally dried, the coffee is spread out in thin even layers over the whole enclosure, where it is baked for the last time. It is then hulled by a very simple machine in use on almost all the fazendas, and the process is complete. At noon we bade good by to our kind hosts, and started for Juiz de Fora. Our stage was not a bad imitation of Noah’s ark, for we carried with us the beasts of the field and the birds of the air and the fishes from the waters,[^[41]] to say nothing of the trees from the forest. The party with whom we had passed such pleasant days collected to bid us farewell, and followed us, as we passed out from the gate, with vivas and waving hats and handkerchiefs.

The following day we were fortunate in having cool weather with a somewhat cloudy sky, so that our ride of ten hours from Juiz de Fora to Petropolis, on the top of the stage, was delightful. The next morning in driving down the Serra to Mauá we witnessed a singular phenomenon, common enough, I suppose, to those who live in high regions. As we turned the corner of the road which first brings us in sight of the magnificent view below the Serra, there was a general exclamation of surprise and admiration. The valley and harbor, quite out to the sea, were changed to a field of snow, white, soft, and fleecy, as if fallen that night. The illusion was perfect, and though recognized at once as simply an effect of the heavy morning fog, we could hardly believe that it would disperse at our approach and not prove to be the thing it seemed. Here and there the summit of a hill pierced through it like an island, making the deception more complete. The incident was especially interesting to us as connecting itself with our late discussions as to the possible former existence of glaciers in this region. In his lecture a few nights before, describing the greater extension of the ice in former geological ages, when the whole plain of Switzerland between the Alps and Jura must have been filled with glaciers, Mr. Agassiz had said “there is a phenomenon not uncommon in the autumn in Switzerland which may help us to reconstruct this wonderful picture. Sometimes in a September morning the whole plain of Switzerland is filled with vapor which, when its pure white, undulating surface is seen from the higher summits of the Jura, looks like a snowy ‘mer de glace,’ appearing to descend from the peaks of the Alps and extending toward the Jura, while from all the tributary valleys similar masses pour down to meet it.” It was as if the valley and harbor of Rio had meant to offer us a similar picture of past times, with the image of which our minds had been filled for the last few days in consequence of the glacial phenomena constantly presented to us on our journey.

July 6th.—To-morrow was to have been the day of our departure for the Amazons, but private interests must yield to public good, and it seems that the steamer which was to have left for Pará to-morrow has been taken by the government to transport troops to the seat of war. The aspect of the war grows daily more serious, and the Emperor goes himself the day after to-morrow to Rio Grande do Sul, accompanied by his son-in-law, the Duke of Saxe, soon to be followed by the Conte d’Eu, who is expected by the French steamer of the 18th of this month. Under these circumstances, not only are we prevented from going at the appointed date, but it seems not improbable that the exigencies of war may cause a still further delay, should other steamers be needed. A very pleasant public dinner, intended to be on the eve of his departure, was given to Mr. Agassiz yesterday by Messrs. Fleiuss and Linde. Germans, Swiss, French, Americans, and Brazilians made up the company, a mingling of nationalities which resulted in a very general harmony.

July 9th.—For some time Mr. Agassiz has been trying to get living specimens of the insect so injurious to the coffee-tree; the larva of a little moth akin to those which destroy the vineyards in Europe. Yesterday he succeeded in obtaining some, and among them one just spinning his cocoon on the leaf. We watched him for a long time with the lens as he wove his filmy tent. He had arched the threads upwards in the centre, so as to leave a little hollow space into which he could withdraw; this tiny vault seemed to be completed at the moment we saw him, and he was drawing threads forward and fastening them at a short distance beyond, thus lashing his house to the leaf as it were. The exquisite accuracy of the work was amazing. He was spinning the thread with his mouth, and with every new stitch he turned his body backward, attached his thread to the same spot, then drew it forward and fastened it exactly on a line with the last, with a precision and rapidity that machinery could hardly imitate. It is a curious question how far this perfection of workmanship in many of the lower animals is simply identical with their organization, and therefore to be considered a function, as inevitable in its action as digestion or respiration, rather than an instinct. In this case the body of the little animal was his measure: it was amazing to see him lay down his threads with such accuracy, till one remembered that he could not make them longer or shorter; for, starting from the centre of his house, and stretching his body its full length, they must always reach the same point. The same is true of the so-called mathematics of the bee. The bees stand as close as they can together in their hive for economy of space, and each one deposits his wax around him, his own form and size being the mould for the cells, the regularity of which when completed excites so much wonder and admiration. The mathematical secret of the bee is to be found in his structure, not in his instinct. But in the industrial work of some of the lower animals, the ant for instance, there is a power of adaptation which is not susceptible of the same explanation. Their social organization, too intelligent, it seems, to be the work of any reasoning powers of their own, yet does not appear to be directly connected with their structure. While we were watching our little insect, a breath stirred the leaf and he instantly contracted himself and drew back under his roof; but presently came out again and returned to his work.

July 14th.—I have passed two or three days of this week very pleasantly with a party of friends who invited me to join them on a visit to one of the largest fazendas in this neighborhood, belonging to the Commendador Breves. A journey of some four hours on the Dom Pedro Railroad brought us to the “Barra do Pirahy,” and thence we proceeded on mule-back, riding slowly along the banks of the Parahyba through very pleasant, quiet scenery, though much less picturesque than that in the immediate vicinity of Rio. At about sunset we reached the fazenda, standing on a terrace just above the river, and commanding a lovely view of water and woodland. We were received with a hospitality hardly to be equalled, I think, out of Brazil, for it asks neither who you are nor whence you come, but opens its doors to every wayfarer. On this occasion we were expected; but it is nevertheless true that at such a fazenda, where the dining-room accommodates a hundred persons if necessary, all travellers passing through the country are free to stop for rest and refreshment. At the time of our visit there were several such transient guests; among others a couple quite unknown to our hosts, who had stopped for the night, but had been taken ill and detained there several days. They seemed entirely at home. On this estate there are about two thousand slaves, thirty of whom are house-servants; it includes within its own borders all that would be required by such a population in the way of supplies: it has its drug-shop and its hospital; its kitchens for the service of the guests and for that of the numerous indoor servants, its church, its priest, and its doctor. Here the church was made by throwing open a small oratory, very handsomely fitted up with gold and silver service, purple altar-cloth, &c., at the end of a very long room, which, though used for other purposes, serves on such an occasion to collect the large household together. The next morning our hostess showed us the different working-rooms. One of the most interesting was that where the children were taught to sew. I have wondered, on our Southern plantations, that more pains was not taken to make clever seamstresses of the women. Here plain sewing is taught to all the little girls, and many of them are quite expert in embroidery and lace-making. Beyond this room was a storeroom for clothing, looking not unlike one of our sanitary rooms, with heaps of woollen and cotton stuffs which the black women were cutting out and making up for the field hands. The kitchens, with the working and lodging rooms of the house negroes, enclosed a court planted with trees and shrubs, around which extended covered brick walks where blacks, young and old, seemed to swarm, from the withered woman who boasted herself a hundred, but was still proud to display her fine lace-work, and ran like a girl, to show us how sprightly she was, to the naked baby creeping at her feet. The old woman had received her liberty some time ago, but seemed to be very much attached to the family and never to have thought of leaving them. These are the things which make one hopeful about slavery in Brazil; emancipation is considered there a subject to be discussed, legislated upon, adopted ultimately, and it seems no uncommon act to present a slave with his liberty. In the evening, while taking coffee on the terrace after dinner, we had very good music from a brass-band composed of slaves belonging to the estate. The love of the negroes for music is always remarkable, and here they take pains to cultivate it. Senhor Breves keeps a teacher for them, and they are really very well trained. At a later hour we had the band in the house and a dance by the black children which was comical in the extreme. Like little imps of darkness they looked, dancing with a rapidity of movement and gleeful enjoyment with which one could not but sympathize. While the music was going on, every door and window was filled with a cloud of dusky faces, now and then a fair one among them; for here, as elsewhere, slavery brings its inevitable and heaviest curse, and white slaves are by no means uncommon. The next morning we left the fazenda, not on mule-back, however, but in one of the flat-bottomed coffee-boats, an agreeable exchange for the long, hot ride. We were accompanied to the landing by our kind hosts, and followed by quite a train of blacks, some of them bringing the baggage, others coming only for the amusement of seeing us off. Among them was the old black woman who gave us the heartiest cheers of all, as we put off from the shore. The sail down the river was very pleasant; the coffee-bags served as cushions, and, with all our umbrellas raised to make an awning, we contrived to shelter ourselves from the sun. Neither was the journey without excitement, the river being so broken by rocks in many places that there are strong rapids, requiring a skilful navigation.

July 15th.—A long botanizing excursion to-day among the Tijuca hills with Mr. Glaziou, director of the Passeio Publico, as guide. It has been a piece of the good fortune attending Mr. Agassiz thus far on this expedition to find in Mr. Glaziou a botanist whose practical familiarity with tropical plants is as thorough as his theoretical knowledge. He has undertaken to enrich our scientific stores with a large collection of such palms and other trees as illustrate the relation between the present tropical vegetation and the ancient geological forests. Such a collection will be invaluable as a basis for palæontological studies at the Museum of Comparative Zoölogy in Cambridge.

July 23d.—At last our plans for the Amazons seem definitely settled. We sail the day after to-morrow by the Cruzeiro do Sul. The conduct of the government toward the expedition is very generous; free passages are granted to the whole party, and yesterday Mr. Agassiz received an official document enjoining all persons connected with the administration to give him every facility for his scientific objects. We have another piece of good fortune in the addition to our party of Major Coutinho, a member of the government corps of engineers, who has been engaged for several years in explorations on the Amazonian rivers. Happily for us, he returned to Rio a few weeks ago, and a chance meeting at the palace, where he had gone to report the results of the journey just completed, and Mr. Agassiz to discuss the plans for that about to begin, brought them together. This young officer’s investigations had made his name familiar to Mr. Agassiz, and when the Emperor asked the latter how he could best assist him, he answered that there was nothing he so much desired or which would so materially aid him as the companionship of Major Coutinho. The Emperor cordially consented, Major Coutinho signified his readiness, and the matter was concluded. Since then there have been frequent conferences between Mr. Agassiz and his new colleague, intent study of maps and endless talk about the most desirable mode of laying out and dividing the work. He feels that Major Coutinho’s familiarity with the scenes to which we are going will lighten his task of half its difficulties, while his, scientific zeal will make him a most sympathetic companion.[^[42]] We found to-day some large leaves of the Terminalia Catappa of the most brilliant colors; red and gold as bright as any of our autumnal leaves. This would seem to confirm the opinion that the turning of the foliage with us is not an effect of frost, but simply the ripening of the leaf; since here, where there is no frost, the same phenomenon takes place as in our northern latitudes.

July 24th.—Our last preparations for the journey are completed; the collections made since our arrival, amounting to upwards of fifty barrels and cases, are packed, in readiness for the first opportunity which occurs for the United States, and to-morrow morning we shall be on our way to the great river. We went this morning to the Collegio Dom Pedro Segundo to bid farewell to our excellent friend Dr. Pacheco, to whose kindness we owe much of our enjoyment during our stay here. The College building was once a “seminario,” a charitable institution where boys were taken to be educated as priests. The rules of the establishment were strict; no servants were kept, the pupils were obliged to do their own work, cooking, &c., and even to go out into the streets to beg after the fashion of the mendicant orders. One condition only was attached to the entrance of the children, namely, that they should be of pure race; no mulattoes or negroes were admitted. I do not know on what ground this institution was broken up by the government and the building taken as a school-house. It has still a slightly monastic aspect, though it has been greatly modified; but the cloisters running around closed courts remind one of its origin. The recitations were going on at the moment of our visit, and as we had seen nothing as yet of the schools, Dr. Pacheco took us through the establishment. A college here does not signify a university as with us, but rather a high school, the age of the pupils being from twelve to eighteen. It is difficult to judge of methods of education in a foreign language with which one is not very familiar. But the scholars appeared bright and interested, their answers came promptly, their discipline was evidently good. One thing was very striking to a stranger in seeing so many young people collected together; namely, the absence of pure type and the feeble physique. I do not know whether it is in consequence of the climate, but a healthy, vigorous child is a rare sight in Rio de Janeiro. The scholars were of all colors, from black through intermediate shades to white, and even one of the teachers having the direction of a higher class in Latin was a negro. It is an evidence of the absence of any prejudice against the blacks, that, on the occasion of a recent vacancy among the Latin professors, this man, having passed the best examination, was unanimously chosen in preference to several Brazilians, of European descent, who presented themselves as candidates at the same time. After hearing several of the classes we went over the rest of the building. The order and exquisite neatness of the whole establishment, not forgetting the kitchen, where the shining brasses and bright tins might awaken the envy of many a housekeeper, bear testimony to the excellence of the general direction. Since the institution passed into Dr. Pacheco’s hands he has done a great deal to raise its character. He has improved the library, purchased instruments for the laboratory, and made many judicious changes in the general arrangement.

CHAPTER IV.
VOYAGE UP THE COAST TO PARÁ.

On board the “Cruzeiro do Sul.”—Members of the Party.—Arrival at Bahia.—Day in the Country.—Return to the Steamer.—Conversation about Slavery in Brazil.—Negro Marriages.—Maceio.—Pernambuco.—Parahyba do Norte.—Ramble on Shore.—Ceará.—Difficult Landing.—Brazilian Baths.—Maranham.—Assai Palm.—Visit to Orphan Asylum.—Detained in Port.—Variety of Medusæ.—Arrival of American Gunboat.—More Medusæ.—Dinner on Shore.—Cordiality toward the Expedition.—Arrival at Pará.—Kind Reception.—Environs of Pará.—Luxuriant Growth.—Markets.—Indian Boats.—Agreeable Climate.—Excursion in the Harbor.—Curious Mushroom.—Success in collecting, with the assistance of our Host and other Friends.—Fishes of the Forests.—Public Expressions of Sympathy for the Expedition.—Generosity of the Amazonian Steamship Company.—Geological Character of the Shore from Rio to Pará.—Erratic Drift.—Letter to the Emperor.

July 25th.—On board the “Cruzeiro do Sul.” We sailed to-day at 11 o’clock, bidding good by with regret, though not without hope of return, to the beautiful bay and mountains on which we have been looking for three months. Our party consists of Major Coutinho, Mr. Burkhardt, Monsieur Bourget, who accompanies Mr. Agassiz to the Amazons as collector and preparator, our two young friends Mr. Hunnewell and Mr. James, and ourselves. At Bahia we shall be joined by Mr. Dexter and Mr. Thayer, two of our party who have preceded us up the coast, and have been collecting in the neighborhood of Bahia for two or three weeks. The aspect of the steamer is not very inviting, for it has been used of late for the transportation of troops to the south, in consequence of which it is very dirty; it is also overcrowded on account of the number of persons bound northward, who have been detained in Rio by the interruption of the regular trips on this line. We are promised better accommodations after a few days, however, as many of the passengers will drop off at Bahia and Pernambuco.

July 28th.—Bahia. Half the enjoyment of life borrows intensity from contrast, and to this principle we certainly owe a part of our pleasure to-day. After three half sea-sick days on a dirty, crowded steamer, the change is delightful to a breezy country house, where we are received with that most gracious hospitality which relieves both host and guests of the sense of entertaining or being entertained. Here I have been sitting under the deep shade of a huge mango-tree, with a number of the “Revue des Deux Mondes” on my knee, either reading or listening lazily to the rustle of the leaves or the cooing of the pigeons as they patter up and down on the tiled floor of the porch near by, or watching the negroes as they come and go with trays of vegetables or baskets of fruit and flowers on their heads, for the service of the house. In the mean time, Mr. Agassiz is engaged in examining the collections made by Mr. Dexter and Mr. Thayer during their visit here. They have been aided most cordially by our friend Mr. Antonio de Lacerda, at whose hospitable house we are staying, and where we found our travelling companions quite domesticated. He received them on their arrival, and has given them every facility during their stay here for the objects they had in view, his own love of natural history, to which he devotes every spare hour from his active business life, rendering him an efficient ally. He has a large and very valuable collection of insects, admirably arranged and in excellent preservation. They are also greatly indebted to Mr. Nicolai, the resident English clergyman here, who has accompanied them on some of their excursions, and put them in the way of seeing whatever was most interesting in the neighborhood.

On arriving in South America one should land first in Bahia, for in its aspect it is the most national and characteristic of the cities. As we passed directly through the town this morning, we can give but little account of it, and yet we saw enough to confirm all that has been said of its quaint and picturesque character. On first disembarking, you find yourself at the foot of an almost perpendicular hill, and negro-bearers appear at your side to carry you up the steep ascent, almost impassable for carriages, in a “cadeira,” or curtained chair. This is in itself an odd experience for one to whom it is new, and the rest of the city, with its precipitous streets, its queer houses, its old churches, is as quaint and antique as these original carriages.

July 29th.—To-day we have the “revers de la médaille”; we have returned to our prison, and a violent rain drives us all to take refuge in the hot, close dining-room, our only resort when the weather is bad.

July 30th.—Off Maceió. Last evening, when the rain was over and the moonlight tempted every one on deck, we had a long conversation with our pleasant travelling companion, Mr. Sinimbu, senator from the province of Alagôas, on the aspect of slavery in Brazil. It seems to me that we may have something to learn here in our own perplexities respecting the position of the black race among us, for the Brazilians are trying gradually and by installments some of the experiments which are forced upon us without previous preparation. The absence of all restraint upon the free blacks, the fact that they are eligible to office, and that all professional careers are open to them, without prejudice on the ground of color, enables one to form some opinion as to their ability and capacity for development. Mr. Sinimbu tells us that here the result is on the whole in their favor; he says that the free blacks compare well in intelligence and activity with the Brazilians and Portuguese. But it must be remembered, in making the comparison with reference to our own country, that here they are brought into contact with a less energetic and powerful race than the Anglo-Saxon. Mr. Sinimbu believes that emancipation is to be accomplished in Brazil by a gradual process which has already begun. A large number of slaves are freed every year by the wills of their masters; a still larger number buy their own freedom annually; and as there is no longer any importation of blacks, the inevitable result of this must be the natural death of slavery. Unhappily, the process is a slow one, and in the mean while slavery is doing its evil work, debasing and enfeebling alike whites and blacks. The Brazilians themselves do not deny this, and one constantly hears them lament the necessity of sending their children away to be educated, on account of the injurious association with the house-servants. In fact, although politically slavery has a more hopeful aspect here than elsewhere, the institution from a moral point of view has some of its most revolting characters in this country, and looks, if possible, more odious than it did in the States. The other day, in the neighborhood of Rio, I had an opportunity of seeing a marriage between two negroes, whose owner made the religious, or, as it appeared to me on this occasion, irreligious ceremony, obligatory. The bride, who was as black as jet, was dressed in white muslin, with a veil of coarse white lace, such as the negro women make themselves, and the husband was in a white linen suit. She looked, and I think she really felt, diffident, for there were a good many strangers present, and her position was embarrassing. The Portuguese priest, a bold, insolent-looking man, called them up and rattled over the marriage service with most irreverent speed, stopping now and then to scold them both, but especially the woman, because she did not speak loud enough and did not take the whole thing in the same coarse, rough way that he did. When he ordered them to come up and kneel at the altar, his tone was more suggestive of cursing than praying, and having uttered his blessing he hurled an amen at them, slammed the prayer-book down on the altar, whiffed out the candles, and turned the bride and bridegroom out of the chapel with as little ceremony as one would have kicked out a dog. As the bride came out, half crying, half smiling, her mother met her and showered her with rose-leaves, and so this act of consecration, in which the mother’s benediction seemed the only grace, was over. I thought what a strange confusion there must be in these poor creature’s minds, if they thought about it at all. They are told that the relation between man and wife is a sin, unless confirmed by the sacred rite of marriage; they come to hear a bad man gabble over them words which they cannot understand, mingled with taunts and abuse which they understand only too well, and side by side with their own children grow up the little fair-skinned slaves to tell them practically that the white man does not keep himself the law he imposes on them. What a monstrous lie the whole system must seem to them if they are ever led to think about it at all. I am far from supposing that the instance I have given should be taken as representing the state of religious instruction on plantations generally. No doubt there are good priests who improve and instruct their black parishioners; but it does not follow because religious services are provided on a plantation, the ceremony of marriage observed, &c., that there is anything which deserves the name of religious instruction. It would be unjust not to add the better side of the question in this particular instance. The man was free, and I was told that the woman received her liberty and a piece of land from her master as her marriage dower.

We arrived at Maceió this morning, and went on shore with Mr. Sinimbu, who leaves us here, and with whose family we passed a delightful day, welcomed with that hearty cordiality so characteristic of Brazilians in their own homes. Although our stay was so short, a considerable addition was made here to the collections. On arriving at any port the party disperses at once, the young men going in different directions to collect, Mr. Bourget hurrying to the fish-market to see what may be found there of interest, and Mr. Agassiz and Mr. Coutinho generally making a geological excursion. In this way, though the steamer remains but a few hours at each station, the time is not lost.

July 31st.—Pernambuco. Arrived to-day off Pernambuco, and were too happy, after a stormy night, to find ourselves behind the famous reef which makes such a quiet harbor at this port. Our countryman, Mr. Hitch, met us on landing, and drove us at once out to his “chacara,” (country place,) where it was delightful to be welcomed, like old friends, to an American home.[^[43]] Pernambuco is by no means so picturesque as Bahia or Rio de Janeiro. It has a more modern air than either of these, but looks also more cleanly and more prosperous. Many of the streets are wide, and the river running through the business part of the city, crossed by broad, handsome bridges, is itself suggestive of freshness. The country is more open and flat than farther south. In our afternoon drive some of the views across wide, level meadows, if we could have put elms here and there in the place of palms, would have reminded us of scenery at home.

August 2d.—Yesterday we left Pernambuco, and this morning found ourselves at the mouth of the Parahyba do Norte, a broad, beautiful river, up which we steamed to within a few miles of the little town bearing the same name. Here we took a boat and rowed to the city, where we spent some hours in rambling about, collecting specimens, examining drift formations, &c. In the course of our excursion we fell in with some friends of Major Coutinho’s, who took us home with them to an excellent breakfast of fresh fish, with bread, coffee, and wine. The bread is to be noticed here, for it is said to be the best in Brazil. The flour is the same as elsewhere, and the people generally attribute the superiority of their bread to some quality of the water. Whatever be the cause, there is no bread in all Brazil so sweet, so light, and so white as that of Parahyba do Norte.

August 5th.—We arrived yesterday at Ceará, where we were warmly welcomed and most hospitably entertained at the house of Dr. Mendes, an old acquaintance of Major Coutinho. It was blowing hard and raining when we left the steamer; our boat put into the beach in a heavy surf, and I was wondering how I should reach the shore, when two of our negro rowers jumped into the water, and, standing at the side of the boat behind me, motioned me to come, crossing their arms basket-fashion, as we do sometimes to carry children. They looked as if it were the ordinary mode of conveyance, so I seated myself, and with one arm around the neck of each of my black bearers, they laughing as heartily as I did, I was landed triumphantly on the sands. After the first greetings at the house of Dr. Mendes were over, we were offered the luxury of a bath before breakfast. The bath is a very important feature in a Brazilian household. This one was of the size of a small room, the water (about two feet deep and of a delicious, soft, velvety character) constantly flowing through over the smooth sand floor. They are often larger than this, from four to five feet deep, and sometimes lined with blue and white tiles, which make a very clean and pretty floor. It is a great luxury in this warm climate, and many persons bathe several times a day. The bathhouse is usually in the garden, at a convenient distance from the house, but not immediately adjoining it. The bath was followed by an excellent breakfast, after which we drove through the city. Ceará is a wonderfully progressive town for Brazil. Five years ago it had not a paved street; now all the streets are well paved, with good sidewalks, and the city is very carefully laid out, with a view to its future growth.[^[44]] To-day we are again coasting along within sight of land, with a quiet sea and a delicious breeze. The ocean is covered with white caps, and of a very peculiar greenish, aquamarine tint, the same which I observed as soon as we reached these latitudes in coming out. This singular color is said to be owing to the nature of the sea bottom and the shallowness of the water, combined, farther north, with the admixture of fresh water along the coast.

August 6th.—Arrived early this morning before Maranham, and went on shore to breakfast at the hotel; for, wonderful to relate, Maranham possesses a hotel, a great rarity in many Brazilian towns. We passed the greater part of the day in driving about the city with Dr. Braga, who kindly undertook to show us everything of interest.[^[45]] The town and harbor are very pretty, the city itself standing on an island, formed by two bays running up on either side and enclosing it. The surrounding country is flat and very thickly wooded, though the woods are rather low. Here, at the house of Dr. Braga’s brother-in-law, we saw, for the first time, the slender, graceful Assai palm, from which the drink is made so much appreciated in Pará and on the Lower Amazons. It is curious to see the negroes go up the tree to gather the fruit. The trunk is perfectly smooth, the fruit growing in a heavy cluster of berries, just below the crown of leaves on its summit. The negro fastens a cord or a strip of palm-leaf around his insteps, thus binding his feet together that they may not slide apart on the smooth stem, and by means of this kind of stirrup he contrives to cling to the slippery trunk and scramble up.

We were much interested in seeing here an admirably well conducted institution for the education of poor orphans. Its chief aim is to educate them, not as scholars, though they receive elementary instruction in reading, writing, and ciphering, but to teach them a variety of occupations by which they can earn an honest livelihood. They are trained in several trades, are taught to play on a number of instruments, and there is also a school of design connected with the establishment. A faultless order and scrupulous neatness prevailed through the whole building, which was not the result of an exceptional preparation, since our visit was wholly unexpected. This surprised us the more, because, notwithstanding their fondness for bathing, order and neatness in their houses are not a virtue among the Brazilians. This may be owing to slave labor,—rarely anything better than eye-service. The large dormitories looked fresh and airy, with the hammocks rolled up and laid on a shelf, each one above the peg to which it belonged; the shoes were hung on nails along the walls, and the little trunks, holding the clothing of each scholar, were neatly arranged beneath them. On the upper story was the hospital, a large, well-ventilated room, with numerous windows commanding beautiful views, and a cool breeze blowing through it. Here were cots instead of hammocks, but I thought the sick boys might prefer the swinging, cradle-like beds to which they were accustomed, and which they evidently find very comfortable. When Mr. Agassiz remarked, as we passed through the dormitory, that sleeping in a hammock was an experience he had yet to make, one of the boys took his down from the shelf, and, hanging it up, laughingly threw himself into it, with a lazy ease which looked quite enviable. The kitchen and grocery rooms were as neat as the rest of the house, and the simplicity of the whole establishment, while it admitted everything necessary for comfort and health, was well adapted for its objects. A pretty little chapel adjoined the house, and the house itself was built around an open square planted with trees,—a pleasant playground for the boys, who have their music there in the evening. On our return to town we heard that, owing to the breakage of some part of the machinery, the steamer would be detained in this port for a couple of days. We have, however, returned to our quarters on board, preferring to spend the night on the water rather than in the hot, close town.

August 7th.—To-day we have all been interested in watching the beautiful Medusæ swept along by the tide, so close to the side of the steamer that they could easily be reached from the stairway. We have now quite a number disposed about the deck in buckets and basins, and Mr. Burkhardt is making colored sketches of them. They are very beautiful, and quite new to Mr. Agassiz. In some the disk has a brown tracery like seaweed over it, while its edge is deeply lobed, every lobe being tinged with an intensely brilliant dark blue; the lobes are divided into eight sets of four each, making thirty-two in all, and an eye is placed on the margin between each set; the tubes running to the eyes are much larger than those in the intervals between, and the network of vessels on the margin is wonderfully fine and delicate; the curtains hanging from the mouth are white and closely fringed with full flounces, somewhat like our Aurelia. The movement is quick, the margin of the disk beating with short, rapid pants. Another is altogether brown and white, the seaweed-like pattern being carried down to the edge of the lobes, and the lobes themselves being more delicate than those of the blue-edged one, the disk thinning out greatly towards the periphery. The brown marks are, however, darker, more distinct, and cover a larger space in some specimens than in others. This is also true of those with the blue margin, the brown pattern covering the whole disk in some, confined to a simple zone around the disk in others, and even entirely absent occasionally. Mr. Agassiz inclines to think, from the similarity of their other features, however, that, notwithstanding their difference of color, they all belong to the same species, the variety in coloration being probably connected with difference of sex. He has, at any rate, ascertained that all the wholly brown specimens caught to-day are males.

We were rejoiced this morning by the sight of our own flag coming into harbor. We presently found that the ship was the gunboat Nipsic. She had sailed from Boston on the 4th of July, and brought papers of a later date than any we have seen. The officers were kind enough to send us a large bundle of papers, which we have been eagerly devouring.

August 8th.—Another quite new and beautiful Medusa to-day. As we were waiting for breakfast this morning a number floated past, so dark in color that in the water they appeared almost black. Two of our party took a boat and went in search of them, but the tide was so swift that they swept past like lightning, and one had hardly time to point them out before they were gone again. However, after many efforts, we succeeded in getting one, whose portrait Mr. Burkhardt is now taking. The disk is of a chocolate-brown, shading into a darker, more velvety hue toward the edge, which is slightly scalloped, but not cut up into deep lobes like those of yesterday. The eyes, eight in number, are distinctly visible as lighter-colored specks on the margin. The appendages hanging from the mouth are more solid and not so thickly fringed as in those of yesterday. It moves rather slowly in its glass prison, the broad margin shading from lighter brown to a soft chocolate color almost verging on black, as it flaps up and down somewhat languidly, but still with a regular, steady pulsation.[^[46]]

August 9th.—We passed yesterday afternoon with the Braga family in town. The weather was charming, a cool breeze blowing through the veranda where we dined. There were a number of guests to meet us, and we had again cause to acknowledge how completely the stranger is made to feel himself at home among these hospitable people. We sailed this morning, Mr. Agassiz taking with him a valuable collection, though our time was so short. The fact is, that, not only here, but at every town where we have stopped in coming up the coast, the ready, cordial desire of the people to help in the work has enabled him to get together collections which it would otherwise have been impossible to make in so short a time. If he is unexpectedly successful in this expedition, it is as much owing to the active sympathy of the Brazilians themselves, and to their interest in the objects he has so much at heart, as to the efforts of himself and his companions.

August 11th.—Pará. Early yesterday morning, a few yellowish patches staining the ocean here and there gave us our first glimpse of the water of the Amazons. Presently the patches became broad streaks, the fresh waters encroaching gradually upon the sea, until, at about ten o’clock, we fairly entered the mouth of the river, though, as the shores are some hundred and fifty miles apart, we might have believed ourselves on the broad ocean. As we neared the city, the numerous islands closing up about Pará and sheltering its harbor limited the view and broke the enormous expanse of the fresh-water basin. We anchored off the city at about three o’clock, but a heavy thundershower, with violent rain, prevented us from going on shore till the next morning. None of the party landed except Major Coutinho. He went to announce our arrival to his friend, Mr. Pimenta Bueno, who has kindly invited us to make his house our home while we stay in Pará. The next morning was beautiful after the rain, and at seven o’clock two boats were sent to take us and our effects on shore. On landing we went at once to Mr. Pimenta’s large business establishment near the wharves. Here he has provided several excellent working-rooms to serve as laboratories and storage-places for the specimens, and besides these a number of airy, cool chambers on the floor above, for the accommodation of our companions, who have already slung their hammocks, arranged their effects, and are keeping a kind of bachelor’s hall. Having disposed of the scientific apparatus, we drove out to Mr. Pimenta’s “chacara,” some two miles out of town, on the Rua de Nazareth, where we were received with the utmost kindness. Mr. Agassiz and Major Coutinho soon returned to town, where no time is to be lost in beginning work at the laboratory. I remained at home and passed a pleasant morning with the ladies of the family, who made me acquainted with the peculiar beverage so famous in these regions, prepared from the berries of the Assai palm. They are about the size of cranberries, and of a dark-brown color. Being boiled and crushed they yield a quantity of juice, which when strained has about the consistency of chocolate, and is of a dark purplish tint like blackberry juice. It has a sweetish taste, and is very nice eaten with sugar and the crisp “farinha d’agua,” a kind of coarse flour made from the mandioca root. People of all classes throughout the province of Pará are exceedingly fond of this beverage, and in the city they have a proverb which runs thus:—

“Who visits Pará is glad to stay,

Who drinks Assai goes never away.”

August 12th.—This morning we rose early and walked into town. Great pains have been taken with the environs of Pará, and the Rua de Nazareth is one of the broad streets leading into the country, and planted with large trees (chiefly mangueiras) for two or three miles out of town. On our way we saw a lofty palm-tree completely overpowered and stifled in the embrace of an enormous parasite. So luxuriant is the growth of the latter that you do not perceive, till it is pointed out to you, that its spreading branches and thick foliage completely hide the tree from which it derives its life; only from the extreme summit a few fan-like palm-leaves shoot upwards as if trying to escape into the air and light. The palm cannot long survive, however, and with its death it seals the doom of its murderer also. There is another evidence, and a more pleasing one, of the luxuriance of nature on this same road. The skeleton of a house stands by the wayside; whether a ruin or unfinished, I am unable to say, but at all events only the walls are standing, with the openings for doors and windows. Nature has completed this imperfect dwelling;—she has covered it over with a green roof, she has planted the empty enclosure with a garden of her own choosing, she has trained vines around the open doors and windows; and the deserted house, if it has no other inmates, is at least a home for the birds. It makes a very pretty picture. I never pass it without wishing for a sketch of it. On our arrival in town we went at once to the market. It is very near the water, and we were much amused in watching the Indian canoes at the landing. The “montaria,” as the Indian calls his canoe, is a long, narrow boat, covered at one end with a thatched roof, under which is the living-room of the family. Here the Indian has his home; wife and children, hammock, cooking utensils,—all his household goods, in fact. In some of the boats the women were preparing breakfast, cooking the coffee or the tapioca over a pan of coals. In others they were selling the coarse pottery, which they make into all kinds of utensils, sometimes of quite graceful, pretty forms. We afterwards went through the market. It is quite large and neatly kept; but the Brazilian markets are only good as compared with each other. The meats are generally poor; there is little game to be seen; they have no variety of vegetables, which might be so easily cultivated here, and even the display of fruit in the market is by no means what one would expect it to be. To-night Mr. Agassiz goes off with a party of gentlemen on an excursion to some of the islands in the harbor. This first expedition in the neighborhood of Pará, from which the Professor promises himself much pleasure, is planned by Dr. Couto de Magalhaês, President of the Province.[^[47]]

August 14th.—We are very agreeably surprised in the climate here. I had expected from the moment of our arrival in the region of the Amazons to be gasping in a fierce, unintermitting, intolerable heat. On the contrary, the mornings are fresh; a walk or ride between six and eight o’clock is always delightful; and though during the middle of the day the heat is certainly very great, it cools off again towards four o’clock; the evenings are delightful, and the nights always comfortable. Even in the hottest part of the day the heat is not dead; there is always a breeze stirring. Mr. Agassiz returned this afternoon from his excursion in the harbor, more deeply impressed than ever with the grandeur of this entrance to the Amazons and the beauty of its many islands, “An archipelago of islands,” as he says, “in an ocean of fresh water.” He describes the mode of fishing of the Indians as curious. They row very softly up the creek, having first fastened the seine across from shore to shore at a lower point, and when they have gained a certain distance above it, they spring into the water with a great plash and rush down the creek in a line, driving the fish before them into the net. One draught alone filled the boat half full of fish. Mr. Agassiz was especially interested in seeing alive for the first time the curious fish called “Tralhote” by the Indians, and known to naturalists as the Anableps tetrophthalmus. This name, signifying “four-eyed,” is derived from the singular structure of the eye. A membranous fold enclosing the bulb of the eye stretches across the pupil, dividing the visual apparatus into an upper and lower half. No doubt this formation is intended to suit the peculiar habits of the Anableps. These fishes gather in shoals on the surface of the water, their heads resting partly above, partly below the surface, and they move by a leaping motion somewhat like that of frogs on land. Thus, half in air, half in water, they require eyes adapted for seeing in both elements, and the arrangement described above just meets this want.

August 19th.—To-night at ten o’clock we go on board the steamer, and before dawn shall be on our way up the river. This has been a delicious week of rest and refreshment to me. The quiet country life, with morning walks in the fresh, fragrant lanes and roads immediately about us, has been very soothing after four months of travel or of noisy hotel life. The other day as we were going into town we found in the wet grass by the roadside one of the most beautiful mushrooms I have ever seen. The stem was pure white, three or four inches in height, and about half an inch in diameter, surmounted by a club-shaped head, brown in color, with a blunt point, and from the base of this head was suspended an open white net of exquisitely delicate texture, falling to within about an inch of the ground; a fairy web that looked fit for Queen Mab herself.[^[48]] The week, so peaceful for me, has been one, if not of rest, at least of intense interest for Mr. Agassiz. The very day of his arrival, by the kindness of our host, his working-rooms were so arranged as to make an admirable laboratory, and, from the hour he entered them, specimens have poured in upon him from all quarters. His own party make but a small part of the scientific corps who have worked for and with him here. In Pará alone he has already more than fifty new species of fresh-water fishes; enough to reveal unexpected and novel relations in the finny world, and to give the basis of an improved classification. He is far from attributing this great success wholly to his own efforts. Ready as he is to work, he could not accomplish half that he does, except for the active good-will of those about him. Among the most valuable of these contributions is a collection made by Mr. Pimenta Bueno, of the so-called fishes of the forest. When the waters overflow after the rainy season and fill the forest for a considerable distance on either side, these fish hover over the depressions and hollows, and as the waters subside are left in the pools and channels. They do not occur in the open river, but are always found in these forest retreats, and go by the name of the “Peixe do Mato.”

Mr. Agassiz has not only to acknowledge the untiring kindness of individuals here, but also the cordial expression of sympathy from public bodies in the objects of the expedition. A committee from the municipality of the city has waited upon him to express the general satisfaction in the undertaking, and he has received a public demonstration of the same kind from the college. The bishop of the province and his coadjutor have also been most cordial in offers of assistance. Nor does the interest thus expressed evaporate in empty words. Mr. Pimenta Bueno is director of the Brazilian line of steamers from Pará to Tabatinga.[^[49]] The trip to Manaos, at the mouth of the Rio Negro, is generally made in five days, allowing only for stoppages of an hour or two at different stations, to take or leave passengers and to deposit or receive merchandise. In order that we may be perfectly independent, however, and stop wherever it seems desirable to make collections, the company places at our disposition a steamer for one month between Pará and Manaos. There are to be no passengers but ourselves, and the steamer is provided with everything necessary for the whole company during that period,—food, service, &c. I think it may fairly be said that in no part of the world could a private scientific undertaking be greeted with more cordiality or receive a more liberal hospitality than has been accorded to the present expedition. I dwell upon these things and recur to them often, not in any spirit of egotism, but because it is due to the character of the people from whom they come to make the fullest acknowledgment of their generosity.

While Mr. Agassiz has been busy with the zoölogical collections, Major Coutinho has been no less so in making geological, meteorological, and hydrographic investigations. His regular co-operation is invaluable, and Mr. Agassiz blesses the day when their chance meeting at the Palace suggested the idea of his joining the expedition. Not only his scientific attainments, but his knowledge of the Indian language (lingua geral), and his familiarity with the people, make him a most important coadjutor. With his aid Mr. Agassiz has already opened a sort of scientific log-book, in which, by the side of the scientific name of every specimen entered by the Professor, Major Coutinho records its popular local name, obtained from the Indians, with all they can tell of its haunts and habits.

I have said nothing of Mr. Agassiz’s observations on the character of the soil since we left Rio, thinking it best to give them as a whole. Along the entire length of the coast he has followed the drift, examining it carefully at every station. At Bahia it contained fewer large boulders than in Rio, but was full of small pebbles, and rested upon undecomposed stratified rock. At Maceió, the capital of the province of Alagôas, it was the same, but resting upon decomposed rock, as at Tijuca. Below this was a bed of stratified clay, containing small pebbles. In Pernambuco, on our drive to the great aqueduct, we followed it for the whole way; the same red clayey homogeneous paste, resting there on decomposed rock. The line of contact at Monteiro, the aqueduct station, was very clearly marked, however, by an intervening bed of pebbles. At Parahyba do Norte the same sheet of drift, but containing more and larger pebbles, rests above a decomposed sandstone somewhat resembling the decomposed rock of Pernambuco. In the undecomposed rock below, Mr. Agassiz found some fossil shells. In the neighborhood of Cape St. Roque we came upon sand-dunes resembling those of Cape Cod, and wherever we sailed near enough to the shore to see the banks distinctly, as was frequently the case, the bed of drift below the shifting superficial sands above was distinctly noticeable. The difference in color between the white sand and the reddish soil beneath made it easy to perceive their relations. At Ceará, where we landed, Mr. Agassiz had an opportunity of satisfying himself of this by closer examination. At Maranham the drift is everywhere conspicuous, and at Pará equally so. This sheet of drift which he has thus followed from Rio de Janeiro to the mouth of the Amazons is everywhere of the same geological constitution. It is always a homogeneous clayey paste of a reddish color, containing quartz pebbles; and, whatever be the character of the rock in place, whether granite, sandstone, gneiss, or lime, the character of the drift never changes or partakes of that of the rocks with which it is in contact. This certainly proves that, whatever be its origin, it cannot be referred to the localities where it is now found, but must have been brought from a distance. Whoever shall track it back to the place where this peculiar red soil with its constituent elements forms the primitive rock, will have solved the problem. I introduce here a letter written by Mr. Agassiz, a few days later, to the Emperor, which will better give his views on the subject.

A BORD DE L’ICAMIABA, SUR L’AMAZONE,

le 20 Aout, 1865.

Sire:—Permettez moi de rendre un compte rapide à Votre Majesté, de ce que j’ai observé de plus intéressant depuis mon départ de Rio. La première chose qui m’a frappé en arrivant à Bahia, ce fut d’y trouver le terrain erratique, comme à la Tijuca et comme dans la partie méridionale de Minas, que j’ai visitée. Ici comme là, ce terrain, d’une constitution identique, repose sur les roches en place les plus diversifiées. Je l’ai retrouvé de même à Maceio, à Pernambuco, à Parahyba do Norte, à Ceará, à Maranham, et au Pará. Voilà donc un fait établi sur la plus grande échelle! Cela démontre que les matériaux superficiels, que l’on pourrait désigner du nom de drift, ici comme dans le Nord de l’Europe et de l’Amérique, ne sauraient être le résultat de la décomposition des roches sous-jacentes, puisque celles-ci sont tantôt du granit, tantôt du gneiss, tantôt du schiste micacé ou talqueux, tantôt du grès, tandis que le drift offre partout la même composition. Je n’en suis pas moins aussi éloigné que jamais de pouvoir signaler l’origine de ces matériaux et la direction de leur transport. Aujourd’hui que le Major Coutinho a appris à distinguer le drift des roches décomposées, il m’assure que nous le retrouverons dans toute la vallée de l’Amazône. L’imagination la plus hardie recule devant toute espèce de généralisation à ce sujet. Et pourtant, il faudra bien en venir à se familiariser avec l’idée que la cause qui a dispersé ces matériaux, quelle qu’elle soit, a agi sur la plus grande échelle, puisqu’on les retrouvera probablement sur tout le continent. Déjà j’apprends que mes jeunes compagnons de voyage ont observé le drift dans les environs de Barbacena et d’Ouro-Preto et dans la vallée du Rio das Velhas. Mes résultats zoologiques ne sont pas moins satisfaisants; et pour ne parler que des poissons, j’ai trouvé à Pará seulement, pendant une semaine, plus d’espèces qu’on n’en a décrit jusqu’à présent de tout le bassin de l’Amazône; c. à. d. en tout soixante-trois. Cette étude sera, je crois, utile à l’ichthyologie, car j’ai déjà pu distinguer cinq familles nouvelles et dix-huit genres nouveaux et les espèces inédites ne s’élèvent pas à moins de quarante-neuf. C’est une garantie que je ferai encore une riche moisson, lorsque j’entrerai dans le domaine de l’Amazône proprement dit; car je n’ai encore vu qu’un dixième des espèces fluviatiles que l’on connait de ce bassin et les quelques espèces marines qui remontent jusqu’au Pará. Malheureusement M. Burkhardt est malade et je n’ai encore pu faire peindre que quatre des espèces nouvelles que je me suis procurées, et puis près de la moitié n’ont été prises qu’en exemplaires uniques. Il faut absolument qu’à mon retour je fasse un plus long séjour au Pará pour remplir ces lacunes. Je suis dans le ravissement de la nature grandiose que j’ai sous les yeux. Votre Majesté régne sans contredit sur le plus bel empire du monde et toutes personelles que soient les attentions que je reçois partout où je m’arrête, je ne puis m’empêcher de croire que n’était le caractère généreux et hospitalier des Brésiliens et l’intérêt des classes supérieures pour le progrès des sciences et de la civilisation, je n’aurais point rencontré les facilités qui se pressent sous mes pas. C’est ainsi que pour me faciliter l’exploration du fleuve, du Pará à Manaos, M. Pimenta Bueno, au lieu de m’acheminer par le steamer régulier, a mis à ma disposition, pour un mois ou six semaines, un des plus beaux bateaux de la compagnie, où je suis instalé aussi commodément que dans mon Musée à Cambridge. M. Coutinho est plein d’attention et me rend mon travail doublement facile en le préparant à l’avance par tous les renseignements possibles.

Mais je ne veux pas abuser des loisirs de Votre Majesté et je la prie de croire toujours au dévouement le plus complet et à l’affection la plus respectueuse

De son très humble et très obéissant serviteur,

L. Agassiz.[^[50]]

CHAPTER V.
FROM PARÁ TO MANAOS.

First Sunday on the Amazons.—Geographical Question.—Convenient Arrangements of Steamer.—Vast Dimensions of the River.—Aspect of Shores.—Village of Breves.—Letter about Collections.—Vegetation.—Variety of Palms.—Settlement of Tajapurú.—Enormous Size of Leaves of the Miriti Palm.—Walk on Shore.—Indian Houses.—Courtesy of Indians.—Row in the Forest.—Town of Gurupá.—River Xingu.—Color of Water.—Town of Porto do Moz.—Flat-topped Hills of Almeyrim.—Beautiful Sunset.—Monte Alégre.—Character of Scenery and Soil.—Santarem.—Send off Party on the River Tapajos.—Continue up the Amazons.—Pastoral Scenes on the Banks.—Town of Villa Bella.—Canoe Journey at Night to the Lake of José Assú.—Esperança’s Cottage.—Picturesque Scene at Night.—Success in Collecting.—Indian Life.—Making Farinha.—Dance in the Evening.—Howling Monkeys.—Religious Impressions of Indians.—Cottage of Maia the Fisherman.—His Interest in educating his Children.—Return to Steamer.—Scientific Results of the Excursion.

August 20th.—On board the “Icamiaba.” Our first Sunday on the Amazons; for, notwithstanding the warm dispute as to whether both the rivers enclosing the island of Marajó must be considered as parts of the great river, it is impossible not to feel from the moment you leave Pará that you have entered upon the Amazons. Geology must settle this knotty question. If it should be seen that the continent once presented an unbroken line, as Mr. Agassiz believes, from Cape St. Roque to Cayenne, the sea having encroached upon it so as to give it its present limits, the Amazons must originally have entered the ocean far to the east of its present mouth, at a time when the Island of Marajó divided the river in two channels flowing on either side of it and uniting again beyond it. We came on board last night, accompanied to the boat by a number of the friends who have made our sojourn in Pará so agreeable, and who came off to bid us farewell. Thus far the hardships of this South American journey seem to retreat at our approach. It is impossible to travel with greater comfort than surrounds us here. My own suite of rooms consists of a good-sized state-room, with dressing-room and bath-room adjoining, and, if the others are not quite so luxuriously accommodated, they have space enough. The state-rooms are hardly used at night, for a hammock on deck is far more comfortable in this climate. Our deck, roofed in for its whole length, and with an awning to let down on the sides, if needed, looks like a comfortable, unceremonious sitting-room. A table down the middle serving as a dinner-table, but which is at this moment strewn with maps, journals, books, and papers of all sorts, two or three lounging-chairs, a number of camp-stools, and half a dozen hammocks, in one or two of which some of the party are taking their ease, furnish our drawing-room, and supply all that is needed for work and rest. At one end is also a drawing-table for Mr. Burkhardt, beside a number of kegs and glass jars for specimens. This first day, however, it is almost impossible to do more than look and wonder. Mr. Agassiz says: “This river is not like a river; the general current in such a sea of fresh water is hardly perceptible to the sight, and seems more like the flow of an ocean than like that of an inland stream.” It is true we are constantly between shores, but they are shores, not of the river itself, but of the countless islands scattered throughout its enormous breadth. As we coast along their banks, it is delightful to watch the exquisite vegetation with which we have yet to become familiar. The tree which most immediately strikes the eye, and stands out from the mass of green with wonderful grace and majesty, is the lofty, slender Assai palm, with its crown of light plume-like leaves, and its bunches of berry-like fruit, hanging from a branch that shoots out almost horizontally, just below the leaves. Houses on the shore break the solitude here and there. From this distance they look picturesque, with thatched, overhanging roofs, covering a kind of open porch. Just now we passed a cleared nook at the water-side, where a wooden cross marked a single mound. What a lonely grave it seemed! We are now coasting along the Isle of Marajó, keeping up the so-called Pará river; we shall not enter the undisputed waters of the Amazons till the day after to-morrow. This part of the river goes also by the name of the Bay of Marajó.

August 21st.—Last evening we stopped at our first station,—the little town of Breves. Its population, like that of all these small settlements on the Lower Amazons, is made up of an amalgamation of races. You see the regular features and fair skin of the white man combined with the black, coarse, straight hair of the Indian, or the mulatto with partly negro, partly Indian features, but the crisp taken out of the hair; and with these combinations comes in the pure Indian type, with its low brow, square build of face, and straight line of the shoulders. In the women especially the shoulders are rather high. In the first house we entered there was only an old half-breed Indian-woman, standing in the broad open porch of her thatched home, where she seemed to be surrounded with live stock,—parrots and parroquets of all sorts and sizes, which she kept for sale. After looking in at several of the houses, buying one or two monkeys, some parroquets, and some articles of the village pottery, as ugly, I must say, as they were curious, we wandered up into the forest to gather plants for drying. The palms are more abundant, larger, and in greater variety than we have seen them hitherto. At dusk we returned to the steamer, where we found a crowd of little boys and some older members of the village population, with snakes, fishes, insects, monkeys, &c. The news had spread that the collecting of “bixos” was the object of this visit to their settlement, and all were thronging in with their live wares of different kinds. Mr. Agassiz was very much pleased with this first harvest. He added a considerable number of new species to his collection of Amazonian fishes made in Pará, already so full and rare. We remained at the Breves landing all night, and this morning we are steaming along between islands, in a channel which bears the name of the river Aturia. It gives an idea of the grandeur of the Amazons, that many of the channels dividing the islands by which its immense breadth is broken are themselves like ample rivers, and among the people here are known by distinct local names. The banks are flat; we have seen no cliffs as yet, and the beauty of the scenery is wholly in the forest. I speak more of the palms than of other trees, because they are not to be mistaken, and from their peculiar port they stand out in bold relief from the mass of foliage, often rising above it and sharply defined against the sky. There are, however, a host of other trees, the names of which are unknown to us as yet, many of which I suppose have no place even in botanical nomenclature, forming a dense wall of verdure along the banks of the river. We have sometimes heard it said that the voyage up the Amazons is monotonous; but to me it seems delightful to coast along by these woods, of a character so new to us, to get glimpses into their dark depths or into a cleared spot with a single stately palm here and there, or to catch even the merest glance at the life of the people who live in the isolated settlements, consisting only of one or two Indian houses by the river-side. We are keeping so near to the banks to-day, that we can almost count the leaves on the trees, and have an excellent opportunity of studying the various kinds of palms. At first the Assai was most conspicuous, but now come in a number of others. The Mirití (Mauritia) is one of the most beautiful, with its pendant clusters of reddish fruit and its enormous, spreading, fan-like leaves cut into ribbons, one of which Wallace says is a load for a man. The Jupatí (Rhaphia), with its plume-like leaves, sometimes from forty to fifty feet in length, seems, in consequence of its short stem, to start almost from the ground. Its vase-like form is peculiarly graceful and symmetrical. Then there is the Bussù (Manicaria), with stiff, entire leaves, some thirty feet in length, more upright and close in their mode of growth, and serrated along their edges. The stem of this palm also is comparatively short. The banks in this part of the river are very generally bordered by two plants forming sometimes a sort of hedge along the shore; namely, the Aninga (Arum), with large, heart-shaped leaves on the summit of tall stems, and the Murici, a lower growth, just on the water’s edge. We are passing out of the so-called river Aturia into another channel of like character, the river Tajapurú. In the course of the day we shall arrive at a little settlement bearing the same name, where is to be our second station.

August 22d.—Yesterday we passed the day at the settlement mentioned above. It consists only of the house of a Brazilian merchant,[^[51]] who lives here with his family, having no neighbors except the inhabitants of a few Indian houses in the forest immediately about. One wonders at first what should induce a man to isolate himself in this solitude. But the India-rubber trade is very productive here. The Indians tap the trees as we tap our sugar-maples, and give the produce in exchange for various articles of their own domestic consumption. Our day at Tajapurú was a very successful one in a scientific point of view, and the collections were again increased by a number of new species. Much as has been said of the number and variety of fishes in the Amazons, the fauna seems far richer than it has been reported. For those of my readers who care to follow the scientific progress of the expedition as well as the thread of personal adventure, I add here a letter on the subject, written a day or two later by Mr. Agassiz to Mr. Pimenta Bueno, in Pará, the generous friend to whom he owes in a great degree the facilities he enjoys in this voyage.

22 Aout, au matin: entre Tajapurú et Gurupá.

Mon cher Ami:—La journée d’hier a été des plus instructives, surtout pour les poissons “do Mato.” Nous avons obtenu quinze espèces en tout. Sur ce nombre il y en a dix nouvelles, quatre qui se trouvent aussi au Pará et une déjà décrite par moi dans le voyage de Spix et Martius; mais ce qu’il y a de plus intéressant, c’est la preuve que fournissent ces espèces, à les prendre dans leur totalité, que l’ensemble des poissons qui habitent les eaux à l’ouest du groupe d’îles qu’on appelle Marajó, diffère de ceux des eaux du Rio do Pará. La liste des noms que nous avons demandée aux Indiens prouve encore que le nombre des espèces qui se trouvent dans ces localités est beaucoup plus considérable que celui des espèces que nous avons pu nous procurer; aussi avons nous laissé des bocaux à Breves et à Tajapurú pour compléter la collection.

Voici quelques remarques qui vous feront mieux apprécier ces différences, si vous voulez les comparer avec le catalogue des espèces du Pará que je vous ai laissé. À tout prendre, il me parait évident dès à présent que notre voyage fera une révolution dans l’Ichthyologie. Et d’abord, le Jacundá de Tajapurú est différent des espèces du Pará; de même l’Acará; puis nous avons une espèce nouvelle de Sarapó et une espèce nouvelle de Jeju; une espèce nouvelle de Rabeca, une espèce nouvelle d’Anojá, un genre nouveau de Candiru, un genre nouveau de Bagre, un genre nouveau d’Acary et une espèce nouvelle d’Acary du même genre que celui du Pará; plus une espèce nouvelle de Matupirim. Ajoutez à ceci une espèce d’Aracu déjà décrite, mais qui ne se trouve pas au Pará et vous aurez à Tajapurú onze espèces qui n’existent pas au Pará, auxquelles il faut ajouter encore quatre espèces qui se trouvent à Tajapurú aussi bien qu’au Pará, et une qui se trouve au Pará, à Brèves, et à Tajapurú. En tout vingt espèces, dont quinze nouvelles, en deux jours. Malheureusement les Indiens ont mal compris nos directions, et ne nous ont rapporté qu’un seul exemplaire de chacune de ces espèces. Il reste donc beaucoup à faire dans ces localités, surtout à en juger d’après le catalogue des noms recueillis par le Major Coutinho qui renferme vingt-six espèces “do Mato” et quarante-six “do Rio.” Il nous en manque donc au moins cinquante-deux de Tajapurú, même à supposer que cette localité renferme aussi les cinq espèces de Breves. Vous voyez que nous laisserons encore énormément à faire à nos successeurs.

Adieu pour aujourd’hui, votre bien affectioné

L. Agassiz.[^[52]]

The Indians here are very skilful in fishing, and instead of going to collect, Mr. Agassiz, immediately on arriving at any station, sends off several fishermen of the place, remaining himself on board to superintend the drawing and putting up of the specimens as they arrive.[^[53]] He made at Tajapurú a collection of the leaves and fruit of palms, of which there were several very beautiful ones near the shore. I sat for a long time on the deck watching an Indian cutting a leaf from a Mirití palm. He was sitting in the crotch of a single leaf, as safe and as perfectly supported as if he had been on the branch of an oak-tree, and it took many blows of his heavy axe to separate the leaf at his side which he was trying to bring down. The heat during the day was intense, but at about five o’clock it became quite cool and R—— and I strolled on shore. Walking here is a peculiar process, and seems rather alarming till you become accustomed to it. A great part of the land, even far up into the forest, is overflowed, and single logs are thrown across the streams and pools, over which the inhabitants walk with as much security as on a broad road, but which seem anything but safe to the new-comer. After we had gone a little way we came to an Indian house on the border of the wood. Here we were very cordially invited to enter, and had again cause to comment on the tidy aspect of the porch, which is their general reception-room. A description of one of these dwellings will do for all. Their materials are drawn from the forest about them. The frames are made of tall, slender tree-trunks, crossing each other at right angles. Between these are woven long palm-leaves, making an admirable thatch, or sometimes the walls are filled in with mud. The roof overhangs, covering the wide, open porch, which extends the length of one side of the house, and is as deep as a good-sized room; it is usually left open on the sides as well as in front. Within, the rest of the house is divided off into one or more chambers, according to its size. I have not penetrated into these, but can bear testimony to the usual cleanliness and order of the outer room. The hard mud-floor is neatly swept, there is no litter about, and, except for the mosquitoes, I should think it no hardship to sling my hammock for the night under the thatched roof of one of these primitive veranda-like apartments. There is one element of dirt common in the houses of our own poor which is absent here. Instead of the mass of old musty bedding, a nest for vermin, the Indians have their cool hammocks, slung from side to side of the room. One feature in their mode of building deserves to be mentioned. Owing to the submerged state of the ground on which they live, the Indians often raise their houses on piles sunk in the water. Here we have the old lacustrine buildings, so much discussed of late years, reproduced for us. One even sees sometimes a little garden lifted in this way above the water.

But to return to our walk. One of the Indians invited us to continue our ramble to his house, which he said was not far beyond, in the forest. We readily complied, for the path he pointed out to us looked tempting in the extreme, leading into the depth of the wood. Under his guidance we continued for some distance, every now and then crossing one of the forest creeks on the logs. Seeing that I was rather timid, he cut for me a long pole, with the aid of which I felt quite brave. But at last we came to a place where the water was so deep that I could not touch bottom with my pole, and as the round log on which I was to cross was rather rocking and unsteady, I did not dare to advance. I told him, in my imperfect Portuguese, that I was afraid. “Naō, mia branca” (No, my white) he said, reassuringly; “naō tem medo” (don’t be afraid). Then, as if a thought struck him, he motioned me to wait, and, going a few steps up the creek, he unloosed his boat, brought it down to the spot where we stood, and put us across to the opposite shore. Just beyond was his pretty, picturesque home, where he showed me his children, telling me their ages, and introduced me to his wife. There is a natural courtesy about these people which is very attractive, and which Major Coutinho, who has lived among them a great deal, tells me is a general characteristic of the Amazonian Indians. When we took leave of them and returned to the canoe, I supposed our guide would simply put us across to the other shore, a distance of a few feet only, as he had done in coming. Instead of that he headed the canoe up the creek into the wood. I shall never forget that row, the more enchanting that it was so unexpected, through the narrow water-path, overarched by a solid roof of verdure, and black with shadows; and yet it was not gloomy, for outside, the sun was setting in crimson and gold, and its last beams struck in under the boughs and lit the interior of the forest with a warm glow. Nor shall I easily forget the face of our Indian friend, who had welcomed us so warmly to his home, and who evidently enjoyed our exclamations of delight and the effect of the surprise he had given us. The creek led by a detour back into the river, a few rods above the landing where our steamer lay. Our friendly boatman left us at the stairway with a cordial good-by, and many thanks from us at parting.

We left our landing early this morning, and at about half past ten turned into the main Amazons. Thus far we have been in what is called the Pará river, and the branches connecting it with the Amazons proper. The proportions of everything in nature amaze one here, however much one may have heard or read about them. For two days and nights we have been following the isle of Marajo, which, though but an island in the mouth of the Amazons, is half as large as Ireland. I add here a second letter from Mr. Agassiz to Mr. Pimenta Bueno, giving a short summary of his scientific progress.

Mon cher Ami:—Je suis exténué de fatigue, mais je ne veux pas aller me reposer avant de vous avoir écrit un mot. Hier soir nous avons obtenu vingt-sept espèces de poissons à Gurupá et ce matin, cinquante-sept à Porto do Moz, en tout quatre-vingt-quatre espèces en moins de douze heures et, sur ce nombre, il y en à cinquante et une nouvelles. C’est merveilleux. Je ne puis plus mettre en ordre ce qu’on m’apporte au fur et à mesure que cela arrive; et quant à obtenir des dessins coloriés du tout, il n’en est plus question, à moins qu’à notre retour nous ne passions une semaine entière ici.

Tout à vous,

L. Agassiz.[^[54]]

August 23d.—Yesterday morning, before reaching the little town of Gurupá, we passed a forest of Miriti palms; it is the first time we have seen a palm wood exclusive of other trees. In the afternoon we stopped at Gurupá and went on shore; but just as we landed, a violent thunder-storm burst upon us with sheets of rain, and we saw little of the town except the inside of the house where we took shelter. Mr. Agassiz obtained a most valuable collection of “forest fishes,” containing a number of new species; the Indians enumerate, however, some seventy distinct species of forest fishes in this vicinity, so that, notwithstanding his success, he leaves much to be done by those who shall come after him. We left during the night, and this morning we entered the river Xingu, stopping at Porto do Moz. The water is very blue and dark as compared with the muddy waters of the main river. Here Mr. Agassiz found two collections, one of forest fishes, the other of river fishes, awaiting him, Mr. Pimenta Bueno having sent messengers by the last steamer to a number of ports, desiring that collections should be in readiness for him. The harvest of this morning, however, was such an one as makes an era in the life of a naturalist, for it contained forty-eight new species,—more, Mr. Agassiz said, than it had ever fallen to his lot to find in the course of a single day. Ever since we entered the Amazons the forest seems to me, though more luxuriant, less sombre than it did about Rio. It is more transparent and more smiling; one sees into it, and sees the sunshine glimmering through it and lighting up its depths. The steamer has just left behind the first open land we have passed,—wide, extensive flats, with scarcely a tree, and covered with thick, coarse grass.

August 24th.—Yesterday afternoon we saw, on the north side of the river, the first elevations of any consequence one meets on the Amazons, the singular flat-topped hills of Almeirim. They are cut off as squarely on the top as if levelled with a plane, and divided from each other by wide openings, the sides being shaved down with the same evenness as the summits. Much has been said about the geology of these singular hills, but no one has fairly investigated it. Von Martius landed, and ascertained their height to be about eight hundred feet above the level of the river, but beyond this, no one seems to know anything of their real nature. They are generally represented as spurs of the higher table-land of Guiana.[^[55]] Last evening was the most beautiful we have seen on the Amazons. We sat on the front upper deck as the crimson sun went down, his broad red pathway across the water followed presently by the pale trembling line of light from the crescent moon above. After the sun had vanished, broad rays of rose-color, shooting almost to the zenith, still attested his power, lending something of their glow also to a great mass of white clouds in the east, the reflection of which turned the yellow waters of the river to silver, while between glory and glory the deep blue sky of night gathered over the hills of Almeirim. This morning at dawn we stopped at the little settlement of Prainha, but did not land, and we are now on our way to Monte Alégre, where we shall pass a day and a half.

August 25th.—Monte Alégre. We arrived before this town, situated on the north side of the Amazons, at the mouth of the river Gurupatuba, yesterday at about midday, but the heat was so great that I did not go on shore till towards evening. The town is situated on the summit of a hill sloping rather steeply upward from the shore, and it takes its name from a mountain some four leagues to the northwest of it. But though the ground is more broken and various than we have seen it hitherto, the place does not seem to me to deserve its name of Monte Alégre (the gay mountain). To me the aspect of the country here is, on the contrary, rather sombre; the soil consists everywhere of sand, the forest is low, while here and there intervene wide, swampy flats, covered with coarse grass. The sand rests above the same reddish drift, filled with smooth rounded quartz pebbles, that we have followed along our whole road. Here and there the pebbles are disposed in undulating lines, as if a partial stratification had taken place; and in some localities we saw indications of the drift having been worked over by water, though not absolutely stratified. Both at sunset and sunrise I took a walk to the village churchyard, which commands the prettiest view in the neighborhood. It is enclosed in a picket fence, a large wooden cross stands in the centre, and there are a few other small crosses marking graves; but the place looked uncared for, grown over, wherever the sand was not bare, by the same coarse, rank shrubs which spring up everywhere in this ungenial soil.[^[56]] At a little distance from the churchyard, the hill slopes abruptly down, and from its brow one looks across a wide plain covered with low forest, to the mountain on the other side, from which the town takes its name. Looking southward, the foreground is filled with lakes divided from each other by low alluvial lands, forming the level flats alluded to above. Though one of the earliest settlements on the Amazons, this town is, by all accounts, rather decreasing than increasing in population. In the midst of its public square stands what seems at first to be the ruin of a large stone church, but which is, in fact, the framework of a cathedral begun forty years ago, and standing unfinished to this day. Cows were pastured in its grass-grown aisles, and it seemed a rather sad memorial, bespeaking a want of prosperity in the place. We were most kindly entertained in the house of Senhor Manuel, who, finding that the mosquitoes were likely to be very thick on board the steamer, invited us to pass the night under his roof. This morning we are sailing about in the neighborhood, partly for the sake of getting fish, but passing also a couple of hours at a cattle-farm near by, in order to bring on board a number of cows and oxen for the Manaos market. It seems that one of the chief occupations here is the raising of cattle. This, with the sale of fish, cacáo, and India-rubber, constitutes the commerce of the place.

August 26th.—This morning found us again on the southern side of the river, off Santarem, at the mouth of one of the great branches of the Amazons, the Tapajoz. Here we leave a number of our party. Mr. Dexter, Mr. James, and Mr. Talisman, a young Brazilian who joined our party at Pará, go on a collecting expedition up the Tapajoz. Mr. Bourget and Mr. Hunnewell remain at Santarem, the former to make collections, the latter to attend to the repairs of his photographing apparatus, which has met with some disasters. We are all to meet again at Manaos for our farther voyage up to Tabatinga.[^[57]] We remained at Santarem only long enough to see the party fitted out with a canoe and the necessary supplies, and as they put off from the steamer we weighed anchor and proceeded on our way, reserving our visit to Santarem for our return. As we left the port the black waters of the Tapajoz met the yellow stream of the Amazons, and the two ran together for a while, like the waters of the Arve and Rhone in Switzerland, meeting but not mingling. Instead of returning at once to the main river, the Captain, who omits nothing which can add to the pleasure or the profit of our voyage, put the steamer through a narrow channel, which, on the Mississippi, would be called a “bayou,” but goes here by the name of an “Igarapé.” Nothing could be prettier than this “Igarapé Assú,” hardly more than wide enough to admit the steamer, and bordered on either side by a thick wood, in which are conspicuous the Munguba, with its oval, red fruit, the Imbauba-tree, neither so lofty nor so regular in form as about Rio, and the Taxi, with its masses of white flowers and brown buds. For two days past we have lost the palms in a great degree; about Monte Alégre they were comparatively few, and here we see scarcely any.

The shore between Santarem and Obydos, where we shall arrive this evening, seems more populous than the regions we have been passing through. As we coast along, keeping close to the land, the scenes revive all our early visions of an ancient pastoral life. Groups of Indians—men, women, and children—greet us from the shore, standing under the overarching trees, usually trained or purposely chosen to form a kind of arbor over the landing-place,—the invariable foreground of the picture, with the “montaria” moored in front. One or two hammocks are often slung in the trees, and between the branches one gets a glimpse of the thatched roof and walls of the little straw cottage behind. Perhaps if we were to look a little closer at these pictures of pastoral life, we should find they have a coarse and prosaic side. But let them stand. Arcadia itself would not bear a too minute scrutiny, nor could it present a fairer aspect than do these Indian homes on the banks of the Amazons. The primitive forest about the houses is usually cleared, and they stand in the midst of little plantations of the cacáo-tree, mingled with the mandioca shrub, from the roots of which the Indians make their flour, and occasionally also with the India-rubber-tree, though, as the latter grows plentifully in the forest, it is not often cultivated. The cacáo and the India-rubber they send to Pará, in exchange for such domestic goods as they require. We have passed so close to the shore to-day that it has been easy to make geological observations from the deck. For a considerable distance above Santarem we have followed drift cliffs, resting upon sandstone; the drift of the same reddish color, and pasty, clayey consistence, and the sandstone seemingly the same in character, as that of Monte Alégre.

August 27th.—Villa Bella. Last evening we stopped to wood at the town of Obydos, but without landing; keeping straight on to this port, on the southern side of the river, at the mouth of the river Tupinambaranas. Here we were very cordially received by Dr. Marcus, an old correspondent of Mr. Agassiz, who has several times sent specimens from the Amazons to the Cambridge Museum. To-night we are to start in canoes on an excursion to some of the lakes in the neighborhood of this port.

August 28th.—In the porch of an Indian house on the lake José Assú. We passed a pleasant day yesterday at the house of Dr. Marcus, keeping the Sabbath rather after the Jewish than the Christian rule, as a veritable day of rest, lounging in hammocks, and the gentlemen smoking. We returned to the steamer at five o’clock, intending to start at six, in order to have the benefit of the night fishing, said to be always the most successful. But a violent thunder-storm, with heavy rain, lasting almost till midnight, delayed our departure. We loaded the boats, however, before night, that we might be ready to start whenever the weather should clear. We have two canoes, in one of which Mr. Agassiz, myself, and Mr. Burkhardt have our quarters, while Major Coutinho, Dr. Marcus, who accompanies us, and Mr. Thayer occupy the other. The former, which is rather the larger of the two, has a tiny cabin at one end, some three feet high and six feet long, roofed in with wood; the other has also one end covered in, but with thatch instead of wood. In the larger boat we have our luggage, compressed to the utmost, the live stock,—a small sheep, a turkey, and several fowls,—besides a number of barrels and kegs, containing alcohol, for specimens. The Captain has supplied us not only with all the necessaries, but, so far as is possible, with every luxury, for a week’s voyage. All our preparations being made, and no prospect of clear weather, at nine o’clock we betook ourselves to our hammocks,—or those of us who had stowed their hammocks out of reach,—to chairs and benches, and had a broken sleep till three o’clock. The stars were then shining, and everything looked fair for our voyage. The wind had gone down, the river was smooth as glass when we paddled away from the side of the steamer, and, though we had no moon, one or two planets threw a bright reflection across the water to cheer our way. After keeping for some time down the river, we turned, just at dawn, into a very narrow channel leading through the forest. It was hardly day, but perhaps the scene was none the less impressive for the dim half-light in which we saw it. From the verdant walls, which rose on either side and shut us in, lofty trees, clothed from base to summit in vines, stood out here and there like huge green columns, in bold relief against the morning sky; hidden flowers filled the air with fragrance, great roots stretched out into the water, and now and then a floating log narrowed the passage so as just to leave room for the canoe to pass. After a while a broader, fuller light shone under the boughs, and we issued from this narrow pathway into an extensive lake. Here it was found that the large net, which was to have made a part of the outfit of the canoe, had been left behind, and, after calling at two or three Indian houses to see if we could supply the deficiency, we were obliged to send back to Villa Bella for it. In the mean time we moored our boats at the foot of a little hill, on which stands an Indian house, where we stopped to breakfast, and where we are still waiting for the return of our messengers. I must say, that a near view of Arcadia tends to dispel illusions; but it should be added, that this specimen is by no means a favorable one. The houses at Tajapurú were far more attractive, and the appearance of their inhabitants much neater and more respectable, than those of our friends here. Yet at this moment the scene is not altogether uninviting. Some of the party are lounging in the hammocks, which we have slung under the great porch, as we are to pass several hours here; an improvised rustic table, consisting of a board resting on forked sticks, stands at one side; the boatmen are clearing away the remains of our late repast; the Indian women, dirty, half clad, with their hair hanging uncombed around their faces, are tending their naked children, or kneading the mandioca in a huge trough. The men of the house have just returned from fishing, the morning having been more successful in that respect than was expected, and are now fitting up a rough forge, in which they are repairing some of their iron instruments. In the mean time Science has its sacred corner, where Mr. Agassiz is investigating new species, the result of the morning’s fishing, while Mr. Burkhardt is drawing them.

August 29th.—Finding yesterday that our shelter grew more uncomfortable as the day wore on, and being obliged to wait for the night fishing, we determined to cross the lake to a “Sitio” (as the inhabitants call their plantations) on the other side of the lake. Here we found one of the better specimens of Indian houses. On one side of the house is the open porch, quite gay at this moment with our brightly colored hammocks; adjoining this is a large chamber, opening into the porch by a wide straw, or rather palm-leaf door; which does not swing on hinges, however, but is taken down and put up like a mat. On the other side of the room is an unglazed window, closed at will in the same way by a palm-leaf mat. For the present this chamber is given up to my use. On the other side of the porch is another veranda-like room, also open at the sides, and apparently the working-room of the family; for here is the great round oven, built of mud, where the farinha is dried, and the baskets of mandioca-root are standing ready to be picked and grated, and here also is the rough log table where we take our meals. Everything has an air of decency and cleanliness; the mud-floors are swept, the ground about the house is tidy and free from rubbish, the little plantation around it of cacáo and mandioca, with here and there a coffee-shrub, is in nice order. The house stands on a slightly rising ground, sloping gently upward from the lake, and just below, under some trees on the shore, are moored the Indian’s “Montaria” and our two canoes. We were received with the most cordial friendliness, the Indian women gathering about me and examining, though not in a rough or rude way, my dress, the net on my hair, touching my rings and watch-chain, and evidently discussing the “branca” between themselves. In the evening, after dinner, I walked up and down outside the house, enjoying the picturesqueness of the scene. The husband had just come in from the lake, and the fire on the ground, over which the fresh fish was broiling for the supper of the family, shone on the figures of the women and children as they moved about, and shed its glow under the thatched roof of the working-room, making its interior warm and ruddy; a lantern in the corner of the porch threw a dim, uncertain light over hammocks and half-recumbent figures, and without, the moon shone over lake and forest. The mosquitoes, however, presently began to disturb the romance of the scene, and, as we were all rather tired from our broken rest the night before, we retired early. My own sleep, under an excellent mosquito-net, was very quiet and refreshing, but there were some of the party who had not provided themselves with this indispensable accompaniment of a hammock, and they passed the night in misery, affording a repast to the voracious hordes buzzing about them. I was awakened shortly after daylight by the Indian women, bringing me a bouquet of roses and jessamine from the vines which grew about the cottage, and wishing me good morning. After such a kindly greeting, I could not refuse them the pleasure of assisting at my toilet, of watching the opening of my valise, and handling every article as it came out.

The night fishing was unfavorable, but this morning the fishermen have brought in new species enough to keep Mr. Agassiz and his artist busy for many hours, so that we are likely to pass another night among these hospitable people. I must say that the primitive life of the better class of Indians on the Amazons is much more attractive than the so-called civilized life in the white settlements. Anything more bald, dreary, and uninviting than life in the Amazonian towns, with an attempt at the conventionalisms of civilization, but without one of its graces, I can hardly conceive. This morning my Indian friends have been showing me the various processes to which the Mandioca is subjected. This plant is invaluable to these people. It gives them their farinha,—a coarse kind of flour, their only substitute for bread,—their tapioca, and also a kind of fermented juice called tucupi,—a more questionable blessing, perhaps, since it affords them the means of getting intoxicated. After being peeled, the roots of the mandioca are scraped on a very coarse grater; in this condition they make a moist kind of paste, which is then packed in elastic straw tubes, made of the fibres of the Jacitará Palm (Desmonchus). When her tube, which has always a loop at either end, is full, the Indian woman hangs it on the branch of a tree; she then passes a pole through the lower loop and into a hole in the trunk of the tree, and, sitting down on the other end of the pole, she thus transforms it into a primitive kind of lever, drawing out the tube to its utmost length by the pressure of her own weight. The juice is thus expressed, flowing into a bowl placed under the tube. This juice is poisonous at first, but after being fermented becomes quite harmless, and is then used for the tucupi. The tapioca is made by mixing the grated mandioca with water. It is then pressed on a sieve, and the fluid which flows out is left to stand. It soon makes a deposit like starch, and when hardened they make it into a kind of porridge. It is a favorite article of food with them.

August 30th.—As time goes on, we grow more at home with our rustic friends here, and begin to understand their relations to each other. The name of our host is Laudigári (I spell the name as it sounds), and that of his wife Esperança. He, like all the Indians living upon the Amazons, is a fisherman, and, with the exception of such little care as his small plantation requires, this is his only occupation. An Indian is never seen to do any of the work of the house, not even to bring wood or water or lift the heavy burdens, and as the fishing is done chiefly at certain seasons, he is a very idle fellow for a great part of the time. The women are said, on the contrary, to be very industrious; and certainly those whom we have an opportunity of seeing here justify this reputation. Esperança is always busy at some household work or other,—grating mandioca, drying farinha, packing tobacco, cooking or sweeping. Her children are active and obedient, the older ones making themselves useful in bringing water from the lake, in washing the mandioca, or in taking care of the younger ones. Esperança can hardly be called pretty, but she has a pleasant smile and a remarkably sweet voice, with a kind of child-like intonation, which is very winning; and when sometimes, after her work is over, she puts on her white chemise, falling loose from her brown shoulders, her dark skirt, and a rose or a sprig of white jessamine in her jetty hair, she is by no means unattractive in her personal appearance, though I must confess that the pipe which she is apt to smoke in the evening injures the general effect. Her husband looks somewhat sombre; but his hearty laugh occasionally, and his enjoyment of the glass of cachaça which rewards him when he brings in a new lot of specimens, shows that he has his bright side. He is greatly amused at the value Mr. Agassiz attaches to the fishes, especially the little ones, which appear to him only fit to throw away. It seems that the other family who have been about here since our arrival are neighbors, who have come in to help in the making of mandioca. They come in the morning with all their children and remain through the day. The names of the father and mother are Pedro Manuel and Michelina. He is a tall, handsome fellow, whose chief occupation seems to be that of standing about in picturesque attitudes, and watching his rather pretty wife, as she bustles round in her various work of grating or pressing or straining the mandioca, generally with her baby astride on her hip,—the Indian woman’s favorite way of carrying her child. Occasionally, however, Pedro Manuel is aroused to bear some part in the collecting; and the other day, when he brought in some specimens which seemed to him quite valueless, Mr. Agassiz rewarded him with a chicken. His surprise and delight were great, perhaps a little mingled with contempt for the man who would barter a chicken for a few worthless fishes, fit only to throw into the river.

Esperança’s Cottage.

Last evening, with some difficulty, we induced Laudigári to play for us on a rough kind of lute or guitar,—a favorite instrument with the country people, and used by them as an accompaniment for dancing. When we had him fairly en train with the music, we persuaded Esperança and Michelina to show us some of their dances; not without reluctance, and with an embarrassment which savored somewhat of the self-consciousness of civilized life, they stood up with two of our boatmen. The dance is very peculiar; so languid that it hardly deserves the name. There is almost no movement of the body; they lift the arms, but in an angular position with no freedom of motion, snapping the fingers like castanets in time to the music, and they seem rather like statues gliding from place to place than like dancers. This is especially true of the women, who are still more quiet than the men. One of the boatmen was a Bolivian, a finely formed, picturesque-looking man, whose singular dress heightened the effect of his peculiar movements. The Bolivian Indians wear a kind of toga; at least I do not know how otherwise to designate their long straight robe of heavy twilled cotton cloth. It consists of two pieces, hanging before and behind, fastened on the shoulder; leaving only an aperture for the head to pass through. It is belted around the waist, leaving the sides open so that the legs and arms are perfectly free. The straight folds of his heavy white drapery gave a sort of statuesque look to our Bolivian as he moved slowly about in the dance. After it was over, Esperança and the others urged me to show them the dance “of my country,” as they said, and my young friend R—— and I waltzed for them, to their great delight. It seemed to me like a strange dream. The bright fire danced with us, flickering in under the porch, fitfully lighting its picturesque interior and the group of wondering Indians around us, who encouraged us every now and then with a “Mûito bonito, mia branca, mûito bonito” (Very pretty, my white, very pretty). Our ball kept up very late, and after I had gone to my hammock I still heard, between waking and sleeping, the plaintive chords of the guitar, mingling with the melancholy note of a kind of whippoorwill, who sings in the woods all night. This morning the forest is noisy with the howling monkeys. They sound very near and very numerous; but we are told that they are deep in the forest, and would disappear at the slightest approach.

September 1st.—Yesterday morning we bade our friendly hosts good-by, leaving their pretty picturesque home with real regret. The night before we left, they got together some of their neighbors in our honor, and renewed the ball of the previous evening. Like things of the same kind in other classes, the second occasion, got up with a little more preparation than the first, which was wholly impromptu, was neither so gay nor so pretty. Frequent potations of cachaça made the guests rather noisy, and their dancing, under this influence, became far more animated, and by no means so serious and dignified as the evening before. One thing which occurred early in the entertainment, however, was interesting, as showing something of their religious observances. In the morning Esperança’s mother, a hideous old Indian woman, had come into my room to make me a visit. Before leaving, I was rather surprised to see her kneel down by a little trunk in the corner, and, opening the lid slightly, throw in repeated kisses, touching her lips to her fingers and making gestures as if she dropped the kisses into the trunk, crossing herself at intervals as she did so. In the evening she was again at the dance, and, with the other two women, went through with a sort of religious dance, chanting the while, and carrying in their hands a carved arch of wood which they waved to and fro in time to the chant. When I asked Esperança the meaning of this, she told me that, though they went to the neighboring town of Villa Bella for the great fête of our Lady of Nazareth, they kept it also at home on their return, and this was a part of their ceremonies. And then she asked me to come in with her, and, leading the way to my room, introduced me to the contents of the precious trunk; there was our Lady of Nazareth, a common coarse print, framed in wood, one or two other smaller colored prints and a few candles; over the whole was thrown a blue gauze. It was the family chapel, and she showed me all the things, taking them up one by one with a kind of tender, joyful reverence, only made the more touching by their want of any material value.

We are now at another Indian house on the bank of an arm of the river Ramos, connecting the Amazons, through the Mauhes, with the Madeira. Our two hours’ canoe-journey yesterday, in the middle of the day, was somewhat hot and wearisome, though part of it lay through one of the shady narrow channels I have described before. The Indians have a pretty name for these channels in the forest; they call them Igarapés, that is, boat-paths, and they literally are in many places just wide enough for the canoe. At about four o’clock we arrived at our present lodging, which is by no means so pretty as the one we have left, though it stands, like that, on the slope of a hill just above the shore, with the forest about it. But it lacks the wide porch and the open working-room which made the other house so picturesque. Mosquitoes are plentiful, and at nightfall the house is closed and a pan of turf burned before the door to drive them away. Our host and hostess, by name José Antonio Maia and Maria Joanna Maia, do what they can, however, to make us comfortable, and the children as well as the parents show that natural courtesy which has struck us so much among these Indians. The children are constantly bringing me flowers and such little gifts as they have it in their power to bestow, especially the painted cups which the Indians make from the fruit of the Crescentia, and use as drinking-cups, basins, and the like. One sees numbers of them in all the Indian houses along the Amazons. My books and writing seem to interest them very much, and while I was reading at the window of my room this morning, the father and mother came up, and, after watching me a few minutes in silence, the father asked me, if I had any leaves out of some old book which was useless to me, or even a part of any old newspaper, to leave it with him when I went away. Once, he said, he had known how to read a little, and he seemed to think if he had something to practise upon, he might recover the lost art. His face fell when I told him all my books were English: it was a bucket of cold water to his literary ambition. Then he added, that one of his little boys was very bright, and he was sure he could learn, if he had the means of sending him to school. When I told him that I lived in a country where a good education was freely given to the child of every poor man, he said if the “branca” did not live so far away, he would ask her to take his daughter with her, and for her services to have her taught to read and write. The man has a bright, intelligent face, and speaks with genuine feeling of his desire to give an education to his children.

September 3d.—Yesterday we started on our return, and after a warm and wearisome row of four hours reached our steamer at five o’clock in the afternoon. The scientific results of this expedition have been most satisfactory. The collections, differing greatly from each other in character, are very large from both our stations, and Mr. Burkhardt has been indefatigable in making colored drawings of the specimens while their tints were yet fresh. This is no easy task, for the mosquitoes buzz about him and sometimes make work almost intolerable. This morning Maia brought in a superb Pirarara (fish parrot). This fish is already well known to science; it is a heavy, broad-headed hornpout, with a bony shield over the whole head; its general color is jet black, but it has bright yellow sides, deepening into orange here and there. Its systematic name is Phractocephalus bicolor. The yellow fat of this fish has a curious property; the Indians tell us that when parrots are fed upon it they become tinged with yellow, and they often use it to render their “papagaios” more variegated.[^[58]]

During our absence the commander of our steamer, Captain Anacleto, and one or two gentlemen of the town, among others Senhor Augustinho, and also Father Torquato, whose name occurs often in Bates’s work on the Amazons, have been making a collection of river fishes, in which Mr. Agassiz finds some fifty new species. Thus the harvest of the week has been a rich one. To-day we are on our way to Manaos, where we expect to arrive in the course of to-morrow.

CHAPTER VI.
LIFE AT MANAOS.—VOYAGE FROM MANAOS TO TABATINGA.

Arrival at Manaos.—Meeting of the Solimoens with the Rio Negro.—Domesticated at Manaos.—Return of Party from the Tapajoz.—Generosity of Government.—Walks.—Water-Carriers.—Indian School.—Leave Manaos.—Life on board the Steamer.—Barreira das Cudajas.—Coari.—Wooding.—Appearance of Banks.—Geological Constitution.—Forest.—Sumaumeira-Tree.—Arrow-Grass.—Red Drift Cliffs.—Sand-Beaches.—Indian Huts.—Turtle-Hunting.—Drying Fish.—Teffé.—Doubts about the Journey.—Unexpected Adviser.—Fonte Bôa.—Geological Character of Banks.—Lakes.—Flocks of Water Birds.—Tonantins.—Picturesque Grouping of Indians.—San Paolo.—Land-Slides.—Character of Scenery.—Scanty Population.—Animal Life.—Tabatinga.—Aspect of the Settlement.—Mosquitoes.—Leave one of the Party to make Collections.—On our Way down the River.—Party to the Rivers Iça and Hyutahy.—Aground in the Amazons.—Arrival at Teffé.

September 5th.—Manaos. Yesterday morning we entered the Rio Negro and saw the meeting of its calm, black waters with the rushing yellow current of the Amazons, or the Solimoens, as the Upper Amazon is called. They are well named by the Indians the “living and the dead river,” for the Solimoens pours itself down upon the dark stream of the Rio Negro with such a vital, resistless force, that the latter does indeed seem like a lifeless thing by its side. It is true, that at this season, when the water in both the rivers is beginning to subside, the Rio Negro seems to offer some slight resistance to the stronger river; it struggles for a moment with the impetuous flood which overmasters it, and, though crowded up against the shore, continues its course for a little distance side by side with the Solimoens. But at the season when the waters are highest, the latter closes the mouth of the Rio Negro so completely that not a drop of its inky stream is seen to mingle with the yellow waters outside. It is supposed that at this season the Rio Negro sinks at once under the Solimoens; at all events, the latter flows across its mouth, seeming to bar it completely. It must not be supposed, from the change of name, that the Solimoens is anything more than the continuation of the Amazons; just as the so-called river Marañon is its continuation above Nauta, after crossing the Brazilian frontier. It is always the same gigantic stream, traversing the continent for its whole breadth; but it has received in its lower, middle, and upper course the three local names of the Amazons, the Solimoens, and the Marañon. At the point where the Brazilians give it the name of Solimoens it takes a sudden turn to the south, just where the Rio Negro enters it from the north, so that the two form a sharp angle.

We landed at Manaos and went at once to the house which Major Coutinho, with his usual foresight, has provided for us. As the day of our arrival was uncertain, the arrangements were not completed, and the house was entirely empty when we entered it. In about ten minutes, however, chairs and tables—brought, I believe, from the house of a friend—made their appearance, the rooms were promptly furnished, and presently assumed a very cosey and comfortable look, notwithstanding their brick floors and bare walls. We have some pleasant neighbors in a family living almost next door to us, old and intimate friends of Major Coutinho, who receive us for his sake as if we also had a claim on their affection. Here we rest from our wanderings, for a week at least, until the steamer sails for Tabatinga.

September 9th.—We have passed such quiet days here, so far as any variety of incident is concerned, that there is little to record. Work has gone on as usual; the whole collection of fishes, made since we left Pará, has been so repacked as to leave it in readiness to be shipped for that port. Our companions have rejoined us on their return from the Tapajoz, bringing with them considerable collections from that river also. They seem to have enjoyed their excursion greatly, and describe the river as scarcely inferior to the Amazons itself in breadth and grandeur, having wide sand-beaches where the waves roll in, when the wind is high, almost as upon a sea-shore. Mr. Agassiz has done nothing in the way of collecting here, with the exception of securing such fishes as are to be had in the immediate neighborhood; he reserves his voyage on the Rio Negro for our return. And, by the way, we are met here by another practical evidence of the good-will of the Brazilian government. On leaving Rio, the Emperor had offered Mr. Agassiz the use of a small government steamer to make explorations on the Negro and Madeira rivers. On our arrival at Pará he was told that the steamer had been found to be so much out of repair that she was considered unsafe. Under these circumstances, he supposed that we should be obliged to resort to the small boats generally used. But to-day an official communication informs him that, as the Piraja is found not to be serviceable, another steamer will be furnished, which will meet us at Manaos on our return from the Upper Amazons. The following letter, acknowledging this favor, to the President of Pará, through whom it was received, contains some account of the scientific results thus far, and may not be uninteresting.

Manaos, 8 Septembre, 1865.

A Son Excellence M. Couto de Magalhaēs, Président du Pará.

Mon cher Monsieur:—Je vous remercie infiniment de l’aimable lettre que vous avez eu la bonté de m’écrire la semaine dernière et je m’empresse de vous faire part des succès extraordinaires qui continuent à couronner nos efforts. Il est certain dès-à-présent que le nombre des poissons qui peuplent l’Amazone excède de beaucoup tout ce que l’on avait imaginé jusqu’ici et que leur distribution est très limitée en totalité, bien qu’il y ait un petit nombre d’espèces qui nous suivent depuis Pará et d’autres pour une étendue plus ou moins considérable. Vous vous rappelez peut-être qu’en faisant allusion à mes espérances je vous dis un jour que je croyais à la possibilité de trouver deux cent cinquante à trois cents espèces de poissons dans tout le bassin de l’Amazone; et bien aujourd’hui, même avant d’avoir franchi le tiers du cours principal du fleuve et remonté par ci par là seulement quelques lieues au delà de ses bords j’en ai déjà obtenu plus de trois cents. C’est inouï; surtout si l’on considère que le nombre total connu des naturalistes ne va pas au tiers de ce que j’ai déjà recueilli. Ce résultat laisse à peine entrevoir ce qu’on découvrira un jour lorsqu’on explorera avec le même soin tous les affluents du grand fleuve. Ce serait une entreprise digne de vous de faire explorer l’Araguay dans tout son cours pour nous apprendre combien d’assemblages differents d’espèces distinctes se rencontrent successivement depuis ses sources jusqu’à sa jonction avec le Tocantins et plus bas jusqu’à l’Amazone. Vous avez déjà une sorte de propriété scientifique sur ce fleuve à laquelle vous ajouteriez de nouveaux droits en fournissant à la science ces renseignements.

Permettez moi de vous exprimer toute ma gratitude pour l’intérêt que vous prenez à mon jeune compagnon de voyage. M. Ward le mérite également par sa grande jeunesse, son courage et son dévouement à la science. M. Epaminondas vient de me faire part de vos généreuses intentions à mon égard et de me dire que vous vous proposez d’expédier un vapeur à Manaos pour prendre la place du Piraja et faciliter notre exploration du Rio Negro et du Rio Madeira. Je ne sais trop comment vous remercier pour une pareille faveur; tout ce que je puis vous dire dès-à-présent c’est que cette faveur me permettra de faire une exploration de ces fleuves qui me serait impossible sans cela. Et si le résultat de ces recherches est aussi favorable que je l’attends, l’honneur en reviendra avant tout à la libéralité du gouvernement Brésilien. Entraîné par les résultats que j’ai obtenus jusqu’ici, je pense que si les circonstances nous sont favorables en arrivant à Tabatinga, nous ferons une poussée jusque dans la partie inférieure du Pérou[^[59]] tandis que mes compagnons exploreront les fleuves intermédiaires entre cette ville et Teffé; en sorte que nous ne serons probablement pas de retour à Manaos avant la fin du mois d’Octobre.

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

L. Agassiz.[^[60]]

There is little to be said of the town of Manaos. It consists of a small collection of houses, half of which seem going to decay, and indeed one can hardly help smiling at the tumble-down edifices, dignified by the name of public buildings, the treasury, the legislative hall, the post-office, the custom-house, the President’s mansion, &c. The position of the city, however, at the junction of the Rio Negro, the Amazons, and the Solimoens, is commanding; and, insignificant as it looks at present, Manaos will no doubt be a great centre of commerce and navigation at some future time.[^[61]]

But when we consider the vast extent of land covered by almost impenetrable forest and the great practical difficulties in the way of the settler here, arising from the climate, the insects, the obstacles to communication, the day seems yet far distant when a numerous population will cover the banks of the Amazons, when steamers will ply between its ports as between those of the Mississippi, and when all nations will share in the rich products of its valley.[^[62]] One of my greatest pleasures in Manaos has been to walk toward the neighboring forest at nightfall, and see the water-carriers, Indian and negro, coming down from the narrow pathways with their great red earthen jars on their heads. They make quite a procession at morning and evening; for the river water is not considered good, and the town is chiefly supplied from pools and little streamlets in the woods. Many of these pools, very prettily situated and embowered in trees, are used as bathing-places; one, which is quite large and deep, is a special favorite; it has been thatched over with palm, and has also a little thatched shed adjoining, to serve as a dressing-room.

Yesterday we passed an interesting morning at a school for Indian children a little way out of the city. We were astonished at the aptness they showed for the arts of civilization so uncongenial to our North American Indians: it reminded one that they are the successors, on the same soil, of the races who founded the ancient civilizations of Peru and Mexico, so much beyond any social organization known to have existed among the more northern tribes. In one room they were turning out very nice pieces of furniture,—chairs, tables, book-stands, &c., with a number of smaller articles, such as rulers and paper-knives. In another room they were working in iron, in another making fine fancy articles of straw. Besides these trades, they are taught to read, write, and cipher, and to play on various musical instruments. For music they are said to have, like the negro, a natural aptitude. In the main building were the school-rooms, dormitories, store-rooms, kitchen, &c. We were there just at the breakfast hour, and had the satisfaction of seeing them sit down to a hearty meal, consisting of a large portion of bread and butter and a generous bowl of coffee. I could not help contrasting the expression of these boys, when they were all collected, with that of a number of negro children assembled together; the latter always so jolly and careless, the former shy, serious, almost sombre. They looked, however, very intelligent, and we were told that those of pure Indian descent were more so than the half-breeds. The school is supported by the province, but the fund is small, and the number of pupils is very limited. Our pleasure in this school was somewhat marred by hearing that, though it purports to be an orphan asylum, children who have parents loath to part with them are sometimes taken by force from the wild Indian tribes to be educated here. The appearance of a dark cell, barred up like the cell of a wild animal, which was used as a prison for refractory scholars, rather confirmed this impression. Whenever I have made inquiries about these reports, I have been answered, that, if such cases occur, it is only where children are taken from an utterly savage and degraded condition, and that it is better they should be civilized by main force than not civilized at all. It may be doubted, however, whether any providence but the providence of God is so wise and so loving that it may safely exercise a compulsory charity. Speaking of the education of the Indians reminds me that we have been fortunate enough to meet a French padre here who has furnished Mr. Agassiz with a package of simple elementary Portuguese books, which he has already sent to our literary Indian friend, José Maia. This kind priest offers also to take the boy, for whom Maia was so anxious to secure an education, into the seminary of which he is director, and where he receives charity scholars.

September 12th.—On Sunday we left Manaos in the steamer for Tabatinga, and are again on our way up the river. I insert here a letter which gives a sort of résumé of the scientific work up to this moment, and shows also how constantly we were attended by the good-will of the employés on the Amazonian line of steamers, and that of their excellent director, Mr. Pimenta Bueno.

Manaos, 8 Septembre, 1865.

Senhor Pimenta Bueno.

Mon cher Ami:—Vous serez probablement surpris de recevoir seulement quelques lignes de moi après le temps qui s’est écoulé depuis ma dernière lettre. Le fait est que depuis Obydos je suis allé de surprise en surprise et que j’ai à peine eu le temps de prendre soin des collections que nous avons faites, sans pouvoir les étudier convenablement. C’est ainsi que pendant le semaine que nous avons passée dans les environs de Villa Bella, au Lago José Assú et Lago Maximo, nous avons recueilli cent quatre-vingts espèces de poissons dont les deux tiers au moins sont nouvelles et ceux de mes compagnons qui sont restés à Santarem et dans le Tapajoz en ont rapporté une cinquantaine, ce qui fait déjà bien au delà de trois cents espèces en comptant celles de Porto do Moz, de Gurupá, de Tajapurú et de Monte Alégre. Vous voyez qu’avant même d’avoir parcouru le tiers du cours de l’Amazone, le nombre des poissons est plus du triple de celui de toutes les espèces connues jusqu’à ce jour, et je commence à m’apercevoir que nous ne ferons qu’effleurer la surface du centre de ce grand bassin. Que sera-ce lorsqu’on pourra étudier à loisir et dans l’époque la plus favorable tous ses affluents. Aussi je prends dès-à-présent la résolution de faire de plus nombreuses stations dans la partie supérieure du fleuve et de prolonger mon séjour aussi long-temps que mes forces me le permettront. Ne croyez pas cependant que j’oublie à qui je dois un pareil succès. C’est vous qui m’avez mis sur la voie en me faisant connaître les ressources de la fôret et mieux encore en me fournissant les moyens d’en tirer parti. Merci, mille fois, merci. Je dois aussi tenir grand compte de l’assistance que m’ont fournie les agents de la compagnie sur tous les points où nous avons touché. Notre aimable commandant s’est également évertué, et pendant que j’explorais les lacs des environs de Villa Bella il a fait lui-même une très belle collection dans l’Amazone même, où il a recueilli de nombreuses petites espèces que les pecheurs négligent toujours. A l’arrivée du Belem, j’ai reçu votre aimable lettre et une partie de l’alcohol que j’avais demandé à M. Bond. Je lui écris aujourd’hui pour qu’il m’en envoie encore une partie à Teffé et plus tard davantage à Manaos. Je vous remercie pour le catalogue des poissons du Pará; je vous le restituerai à notre retour, avec les additions que je ferai pendant le reste du voyage. Adieu, mon cher ami.

Tout à vous,

L. Agassiz.[^[63]]

Although no longer on board an independent steamer, we are still the guests of the company, having government passages. Nothing can be more comfortable than the travelling on these Amazonian boats. They are clean and well kept, with good-sized state-rooms, which most persons use, however, only as dressing-rooms, since it is always more agreeable to sleep on the open deck in one’s hammock. The table is very well kept, the fare good, though not varied. Bread is the greatest deficiency, but hard biscuit makes a tolerable substitute. Our life is after this fashion. We turn out of our hammocks at dawn, go down stairs to make our toilets, and have a cup of hot coffee below. By this time the decks are generally washed and dried, the hammocks removed, and we can go above again. Between then and the breakfast hour, at half past ten o’clock, I generally study Portuguese, though my lessons are somewhat interrupted by watching the shore and the trees, a constant temptation when we are coasting along near the banks. At half past ten or eleven o’clock breakfast is served, and after that the glare of the sun becomes trying, and I usually descend to the cabin, where we make up our journals, and write during the middle of the day. At three o’clock I consider that the working hours are over, and then I take a book and sit in my lounging-chair on deck, and watch the scenery, and the birds and the turtles, and the alligators if there are any, and am lazy in a general way. At five o’clock dinner is served, (the meals being always on deck,) and after that begins the delight of the day. At that hour it grows deliciously cool, the sunsets are always beautiful, and we go to the forward deck and sit there till nine o’clock in the evening. Then comes tea, and then to our hammocks; I sleep in mine most profoundly till morning.

To-day we stopped at a small station on the north side of the river called Barreira das Cudajas. The few houses stand on a bank of red drift, slightly stratified in some parts, and affording a support for the river-mud, shored up against it. Since then, in our progress, we have seen the same formation in several localities.

September 13th.—This morning the steamer dropped anchor at the little town of Coari on the Coari River,—one of the rivers of black water. We were detained at this place for some hours, taking in wood; so slow a process here, that an American, accustomed to the rapid methods of work at home, looks on in incredulous astonishment. A crazy old canoe, with its load of wood, creeps out from the shore, the slowness of its advance accounted for by the fact that of its two rowers one has a broken paddle, the other a long stick, to serve as apologies for oars. When the boat reaches the side of the steamer, a line of men is formed some eight or ten in number, and the wood is passed from hand to hand, log by log, each log counted as it arrives. Mr. Agassiz timed them this morning, and found that they averaged about seven logs a minute. Under these circumstances, one can understand that stopping to wood is a long affair. Since we left Coari we have been coasting along close to the land, the continental shore, and not that of an island. The islands are so large and numerous in the Amazons, that often when we believe ourselves between the northern and southern margins of the river, we are in fact between island shores. We have followed the drift almost constantly to-day,—the same red drift with which we have become so familiar in South America. Sometimes it rises in cliffs and banks above the mud deposit, sometimes it crops out through the mud, occasionally mingling with it and partially stratified, and in one locality it overlaid a gray rock in place, the nature of which Mr. Agassiz could not determine, but which was distinctly stratified and slightly tilted. The drift is certainly more conspicuous as we ascend the river; is this because we approach its source, or because the nature of the vegetation allows us to see more of the soil? Since we left Manaos the forest has been less luxuriant; it is lower on the Solimoens than on the Amazons, more ragged and more open. The palms are also less numerous than hitherto, but there is a tree here which rivals them in dignity. Its flat dome, rounded but not conical, towers above the forest, and, when seen from a distance, has an almost architectural character, so regular is its form. This majestic tree, called the Sumaumeira (Eriodendron Sumauma), is one of the few trees in this climate which shed their leaves periodically, and now it lifts its broad rounded summit above the green mass of vegetation around it, quite bare of foliage. Symmetrical as it is, the branches are greatly ramified and very knotty. The bark is white. It would seem that the season approaches when the Sumaumeiras should take on their green garb again, for a few are already beginning to put out young leaves. Beside this giant of the forest, the Imbauba (Cecropia), much lower here, however, than in Southern Brazil, and the Taxi, with its white flowers and brown buds, are very conspicuous along the banks. Close upon the shore the arrow-grass, some five or six feet in height, grows in quantity; it is called “frexas” here, being used by the Indians to make their arrows.

September 14th.—For the last day or two the shore has been higher than we have seen it since leaving Manaos. We constantly pass cliffs of red drift with a shallow beach of mud deposit resting against them; not infrequently a gray rock, somewhat like clay slate, crops out below the drift; this rock is very distinctly stratified, tilting sometimes to the west, sometimes to the east, always unconformable with the overlying drift.[^[64]] The color of the drift changes occasionally, being sometimes nearly white in this neighborhood instead of red. We are coming now to that part of the Amazons where the wide sand-beaches occur, the breeding-places of the turtles and alligators. It is not yet quite the season for gathering the turtle-eggs, making the turtle-butter, &c., but we frequently see the Indian huts on the beaches, and their stakes set up for spreading and drying fish, which is one of the great articles of commerce here. This morning we have passed several hours off the town of Ega, or Teffé as the Brazilians call it. It takes its name from the river Teffé, but the town itself stands on a small lake, formed by the river just before it joins the Amazons. The entrance to the lake, which is broken by a number of little channels or igarapés, and the approach to the town, are exceedingly pretty. The town itself, with a wide beach in front, standing on the slope of a green hill, where sheep and cattle, a rare sight in this region, are grazing, looks very inviting. We examined it with interest, for some of the party at least will return to this station for the purpose of making collections.

September 15th.—For the last two or three days we have been holding frequent discussions as to the best disposition of our forces after reaching Tabatinga;—a source of great anxiety to Mr. Agassiz, the time we have to spend being so short, and the subjects of investigation so various and so important. Should he give up the idea of continuing, in person, his study of the fishes in the upper Amazons, leaving only some parties to make collections, and going himself into Peru, to visit at least the first spur of the Andes, with the purpose of ascertaining whether any vestiges of glaciers are to be found in the valleys, and also of making a collection of fishes from the mountain streams; or should he renounce the journey into Peru for the present, and, making a station somewhere in this region for the next month or two, complete, as far as may be, his investigation of the distribution and development of fishes in the Solimoens? Had the result of the Peruvian journey been more certain, the decision would have been easier; but it is more than likely that the torrential rains of this latitude have decomposed the surface and swept away all traces of glaciers, if they ever existed at so low a level. To go on, therefore, seemed a little like giving up a certain for an uncertain result. Earnestly desirous of making the best use of his time and opportunities here, this doubt has disturbed Mr. Agassiz’s waking and sleeping thoughts for several days past. Yesterday morning, at Teffé, a most unexpected adviser appeared in the midst of our council of war. Insignificant in size, this individual, nevertheless, brought great weight to the decision. The intruder was a small fish with his mouth full of young ones. The practical plea was irresistible,—embryology carried the day. A chance of investigating so extraordinary a process of development, not only in this species but in several others said to rear their young in the same fashion, was not to be thrown away; and, besides, there was the prospect of making a collection and a series of colored drawings, from the life, of the immense variety of fishes in the river and lake of Teffé, and perhaps of studying the embryology of the turtles and alligators in their breeding season. Mr. Agassiz, therefore, decides to return to Teffé with his artist and two or three other assistants, and to make a station there for a month at least, leaving Mr. Bourget, with our Indian fisherman, at Tabatinga to collect in that region, and sending Mr. James and Mr. Talisman to the river Putumayo, or Iça, and afterwards to the Hyutahy for the same purpose. This dispersion of parties to collect simultaneously in different areas, divided from each other by considerable distances, will show how the fishes are distributed, and whether their combinations differ in these localities as they have been found to do in the Lower Amazons.

I insert here a letter to the Emperor on the subject of this curious fish, which happened to be one which Mr. Agassiz had formerly dedicated to him.

Teffé, 14 Septembre, 1865.

Sire:—En arrivant ici ce matin j’ai eu la surprise la plus agréable et la plus inattendue. Le premier poisson qui me fut apporté était l’Acara que votre Majesté a bien voulu me permettre de lui dédier et par un bonheur inouï c’était l’époque de la ponte et il avait la bouche pleine de petits vivants, en voie de développement. Voilà donc le fait le plus incroyable en embryologie pleinement confirmé, et il ne me reste plus qu’à étudier en detail et à loisir tous les changements que subissent ces petits jusqu’au moment où ils quittent leur singulier nid, afin que je puisse publier un récit complet de cette singulière histoire. Mes prévisions sur la distribution des poissons se confirment; le fleuve est habité par plusieurs faunes ichthyologiques très distinctes, qui n’ont pour lien commun qu’un très petit nombre d’espèces qu’on rencontre partout. Il reste maintenant à préciser les limites de ces régions ichthyologiques et peut-être me laisserai-je entraîner à consacrer quelque temps à cette étude, si je trouve les moyens d’y parvenir. Il y a maintenant une question qui devient fort intéressante, c’est de savoir jusqu’à quel point le même phénomène se reproduit dans chacun des grands affluents du Rio Amazonas, ou en d’autres termes si les poissons des régions supérieures du Rio Madeira et du Rio Negro, etc., etc., sont les mêmes que ceux du cours inférieur de ces fleuves. Quant à la diversité même des poissons du bassin tout entier mes prévisions sont de beaucoup dépassées. Avant d’arriver à Manaos j’avais déjà recueilli plus de trois cents espèces, c. à. d. le triple des espèces connues jusqu’à ce jour au moins. La moitié environ out pu être peintes sur le vivant par M. Burkhardt; en sorte que si je puis parvenir à publier tous ces documents, les renseignements que je pourrai fournir sur ce sujet dépasseront de beaucoup tout ce que l’on a publié jusqu’à ce jour.

Je serais bien heureux d’apprendre que Votre Majesté n’a pas rencontré de difficultés dans son voyage et qu’Elle a atteint pleinement le but qu’Elle se proposait. Nous sommes ici sans nouvelles du Sud, depuis que nous avons quitté Rio, et tout ce que nous avions appris alors était qu’après une traversée assez orageuse votre Majesté avait atteint le Rio Grande. Que Dieu protège et bénisse votre Majesté! Avec les sentiments du plus profond respect et de la reconnaissance la plus vive,

Je suis de votre Majesté

le très humble et très obéissant serviteur,

L. Agassiz.[^[65]]

The character of the banks yesterday and to-day continues unchanged; they are rather high, rising now and then in bluffs and presenting the same mixture of reddish drift and mud deposit, with the gray, slaty rock below, cropping out occasionally. This morning we are stopping to wood at a station opposite the village of Fonte Bôa. Here Mr. Agassiz has had an opportunity of going on shore and examining this formation. He finds a thick bed of ferruginous sandstone underlying a number of thinner beds of mud clay, resembling old clay slate with cleavage. These beds are overlaid by a bank of ochre-colored sandy clay (designated as drift above), with hardly any signs of stratification. Yesterday we passed several lakes, shut out from the river by mud-bars, and seemingly haunted by waterfowl. In one we saw immense flocks of what looked at that distance either like red Ibises or red spoonbills, and also numbers of gulls. Our sportsmen looked longingly at them, and are impatient for the time when we shall be settled on land, and they can begin to make havoc among the birds.

September 17th.—Last evening we took in wood from the shore some miles below the town of Tonantins. I sat watching the Indians on the bank, of whom there were some fifteen or twenty, men, women, and children; the men loading the wood, the women and children being there apparently to look on. They had built a fire on the bank, and hung their nets or cotton tents, under which they sleep, on the trees behind. They made a wild group, passing to and fro in the light of the fire, the care of which seemed the special charge of a tall, gaunt, weird-looking woman, who would have made a good Meg Merrilies. She seemed to have but one garment,—a long, brown, stuff robe, girt round the waist; as she strode about the fire, throwing on fresh logs and stirring the dying embers, the flames blazed up in her face, lighting her tawny skin and long, unkempt hair, flickering over the figures of women and children about her, and shedding a warm glow over the forest which made the setting to the picture. This is the only very tall Indian woman I have seen; usually the women are rather short of stature. When the Indians had made their preparations for the night, they heaped damp fuel on the fire till it smouldered down and threw out thick clouds of smoke, enveloping the sleeping-tents, and no doubt driving off effectually the clouds of mosquitoes, from which the natives seem as great sufferers as strangers. These upper stations on the Amazons are haunted by swarms of mosquitoes at night, and during the day by a little biting fly called Pium, no less annoying.

September 18th.—Another pause last evening at the village of San Paolo, standing on a ridge which rises quite steeply from the river and sinks again into a ravine behind. Throughout all this region the banks are eaten away by the river, large portions falling into the water at a time, and carrying the trees with them. These land-slides are so frequent and so extensive as to make travelling along the banks in small boats quite dangerous. The scenery of the Solimoens is by no means so interesting as that of the Lower Amazons. The banks are ragged and broken, the forest lower, less luxuriant, and the palm growth very fitful. For a day or two past we have scarcely seen any palms. One kind seems common, however, namely, the Paxiuba Barriguda—Pa-shee-oo-ba (Iriartea ventricosa), a species not unlike the Assai in dignity of port, but remarkable for the swelling of its stem at half height, giving it a sort of spindle shape. The cut of the foliage is peculiar also, each leaflet being wedge-shaped. The steamer is often now between the shores of the river itself instead of coasting along by the many lovely islands which make the voyage between Pará and Manaos so diversified; what is thus gained in dimensions is lost in picturesqueness of detail. Then the element of human life and habitations is utterly wanting; one often travels for a day without meeting even so much as a hut. But if men are not to be seen, animals are certainly plenty; as our steamer puffs along, great flocks of birds rise up from the shore, turtles pop their black noses out of the water, alligators show themselves occasionally, and sometimes a troop of brown Capivari scuttles up the bank, taking refuge in the trees at our approach. To-morrow morning we reach Tabatinga, and touch the farthest point of our journey.

September 20th.—On Monday evening we arrived at Tabatinga, remaining there till Wednesday morning to discharge the cargo,—a lengthy process, with the Brazilian method of working. Tabatinga is the frontier town between Brazil and Peru, and is dignified by the name of a military station, though when one looks at the two or three small mounted guns on the bank, the mud house behind them constituting barracks, with half a dozen soldiers lounging in front of it, one cannot but think that the fortification is not a very formidable one.[^[66]] The town itself standing on a mud bluff, deeply ravined and cracked in many directions, consists of some dozen ruinous houses built around an open square. Of the inhabitants I saw but little, for it was toward evening when I went on shore, and they were already driven under shelter by the mosquitoes. One or two looked out from their doors and gave me a friendly warning not to proceed unless I was prepared to be devoured, and indeed the buzzing swarm about me soon drove me back to the steamer. The mosquitoes by night and the Piums by day are said to render life almost intolerable here. Under these circumstances we could form little idea of the character of the vegetation in our short stay. But we made the acquaintance of one curious palm, the Tucum, a species of Astrocaryum, the fibre of which makes an excellent material for weaving hammocks, fishing-nets, and the like. It is gradually becoming an important article of commerce. The approach to Tabatinga, with two or three islands in the neighborhood, numerous igarapés opening out of the river, and the Hyavary emptying into it, is, however, one of the prettiest parts of the Solimoens. We found here four members of a Spanish scientific commission, who have been travelling several years in South and Central America, and whose track we have crossed several times without meeting them. They welcomed the arrival of the steamer with delight, having awaited their release at Tabatinga for two or three weeks. The party consisted of Drs. Almagro, Spada, Martinez, and Isern. They had just accomplished an adventurous journey, having descended the Napo on a raft, which their large collection of live animals had turned into a sort of Noah’s ark. After various risks and exposures they had arrived at Tabatinga, having lost almost all their clothing, except what they wore, by shipwreck. Fortunately, their papers and collections were saved.[^[67]] We are now on our way down the river again, having left Mr. Bourget at Tabatinga to pass a month in making collections in that region, and dropped Mr. James and Mr. Talisman last evening at San Paolo, where they are to get a canoe and Indians for their further journey to the Iça. This morning, while stopping to wood at Fonte Bôa, Mr. Agassiz went on shore and collected a very interesting series of fossil plants in the lower mud deposit; he was also very successful in making a small collection of fishes, containing several new species, during the few hours we passed at this place.

September 25th.—Teffé. On Friday, the day after my last date, we were within two or three hours of Teffé; we had just finished packing our various effects, and were closing our letters to be mailed from Manaos, when the steamer came to a sudden pause with that dead, sullen, instantaneous stop which means mischief. The order to reverse the engines was given instantly, but we had driven with all our force into the bed of the river, and there we remained, motionless. This is sometimes rather a serious accident at the season when the waters are falling, steamers having been occasionally stranded for a number of weeks. It is not easily guarded against, the river bottom changing so constantly and so suddenly that even the most experienced pilots cannot always avoid disaster. They may pass with perfect safety in their upward voyage over a place where, on their return, they find a formidable bank of mud. During three hours the crew worked ineffectually, trying to back the steamer off, or sinking the anchor at a distance to drag her back upon it. At five o’clock in the afternoon the sky began to look black and lowering, and presently a violent squall, with thunder and rain, broke upon us. The wind did, in an instant, what man and steam together had failed to do in hours. As the squall struck the steamer on her side, she vibrated, veered and floated free. There was a general stir of delight at this sudden and unexpected liberation, for the delay was serious to all. One or two of the passengers were merchants, to whom it was important to meet the steamer of the 25th at Manaos, which connects with other steamers all along the coast; and the members of the Spanish scientific commission, if they could not at once transfer their effects to the other steamer, would not only miss the next European steamer, but must be at the expense and care of storing their various luggage and maintaining their live stock at Manaos for a fortnight. And lastly, to Mr. Agassiz himself it was a serious disappointment to lose two or three days out of the precious month for investigations at Teffé. Therefore, every face beamed when the kindly shock of the wind set us afloat again; but the work, so vainly spent to release us, was but too efficient in keeping us prisoners. The anchor, which had been sunk in the mud at some distance, was so deeply buried that it was difficult to raise it, and in the effort to do so we grounded again. Indeed, environed as we were by mud and sand, it was no easy matter to find a channel out of them. We now remained motionless all night, though the Captain was unremitting in his efforts and kept the men at work till morning, when, at about seven o’clock, the boat worked herself free at last, and we thought our troubles fairly over. But the old proverb “There’s many a slip ‘twixt the cup and the lip” never was truer; on starting once more we found that, in the strain and shock to which the ship had been submitted, the rudder was broken. In view of this new disaster, the passengers for Pará gave up all hope of meeting the steamer at Manaos, and the rest resigned themselves to waiting with such philosophy as they could muster. The whole of that day and the following night were spent in rigging up a new rudder, and it was not until eight o’clock on Sunday morning that we were once more on our way, arriving at Teffé at eleven o’clock.

CHAPTER VII.
LIFE IN TEFFÉ.

Aspect of Teffé.—Situation.—Description of Houses.—Fishing Excursion.—Astonishing Variety of Fishes.—Acara.—Scarcity of Laborers.—Our indoors Man.—Bruno.—Alexandrina.—Pleasant Walks.—Mandioca-shed in the Forest.—Indian Encampment on the Beach.—Excursion to Fishing Lodge on the Solimoens.—Amazonian Beaches.—Breeding-Places of Turtles, Fishes, etc.—Adroitness of Indians in finding them.—Description of a “Sitio.”—Indian Clay-Eaters.—Cuieira-Tree.—Fish Hunt.—Forest Lake.—Water Birds.—Success in collecting.—Evening Scene in Sitio.—Alexandrina as “aide scientifique.”—Fish Anecdote.—Relations between Fishes as shown by their Embryology.—Note Upon the Marine Character of the Amazonian Faunæ.—Acara.—News from the Parties in the Interior.—Return of Party from the Iça.—Preparations for Departure.—Note on General Result of Scientific Work in Teffé.—Waiting for the Steamer.—Sketch of Alexandrina.—Mocuim.—Thunder-Storm.—Repiquete.—Geological Observations.

September 27th.—Of all the little settlements we have seen on the Amazons, Teffé looks the most smiling and pleasant. Just now the town, or, as it should rather be called, the village, stands, as I have said, above a broad sand-beach; in the rainy season, however, we are told that the river covers this beach completely, and even encroaches on the fields beyond, coming almost to the threshold of some of the dwellings. The houses are generally built of mud, plastered over and roofed with tiles, or thatched with palm. Almost all have a little ground about them, enclosed in a picket fence, and planted with orange-trees and different kinds of palms,—Cocoa-nut, Assais, and Pupunhas or peach-palms. The latter bears, in handsome clusters, a fruit not unlike the peach in size and coloring; it has a mealy character when cooked, and is very palatable, eaten with sugar. The green hill behind the town, on which cows and sheep are grazing,[^[68]] slopes up to the forest, and makes a pretty background to the picture. In approaching the village, many little inlets of the lake and river give promise of pleasant canoe excursions. Through our friend Major Coutinho we had already bespoken lodgings, and to-day finds us as comfortably established as it is possible for such wayfarers to be. Our house stands on an open green field, running down to the water, and is enclosed only on two sides by buildings. In front, it commands a pretty view of the beach and of the opposite shore across the water. Behind, it has a little open ground planted with two or three orange-trees, surrounding a turtle-tank, which will be very convenient for keeping live specimens. A well-stocked turtle-tank is to be found in almost every yard, as the people depend largely upon turtles for their food. The interior of the house is very commodious. On the right of the flagged entry is a large room already transformed into a laboratory. Here are numerous kegs, cans, and barrels for specimens, a swinging-shelf to keep birds and insects out of the way of the ants, a table for drawing, and an immense empty packing-case, one side of which serves as a table for cleaning and preparing birds, while the open space beneath makes a convenient cupboard for keeping the instruments and materials of one sort and another, used in the process. After a little practice in travelling one learns to improvise the conveniences for work almost without the accessories which seem indispensable at home. Opposite to the laboratory on the other side of the entry is a room of the same size, where the gentlemen have slung their hammocks; back of this is my room, from the window of which, looking into the court behind, I get a glimpse of some lovely Assai palms and one or two orange-trees in full flower; adjoining that is the dining-room, with a large closet leading out of it, used as a storage-place for alcohol, and serving at this moment as a prison-house for two live alligators who are awaiting execution there. The news of our arrival has already gone abroad, and the fishermen and boys of the village are bringing in specimens of all sorts,—alligators, turtles, fish, insects, birds. Enough is already gathered to show what a rich harvest may be expected in this neighborhood.

Veranda and Dining-room at Teffé.

September 28th.—Yesterday afternoon, between sunset and moonlight, our neighbor Dr. Romualdo invited us to go with him and his friend Senhor Joaō da Cunha on a fishing excursion into one of the pretty bayous that open out to the lake. As our canoe entered it, lazy alligators were lying about in the still glassy water, with their heads just resting above the surface; a tall, gray heron stood on the shore, as if watching his reflection, almost as distinct as himself, and a variety of water-birds sailed over our heads as we intruded upon their haunts. When we had reached a certain point, the Indians sprang up to their necks in the water, (which was, by the way, unpleasantly warm,) and stretched the net. After a few minutes, they dragged it into shore with a load of fish, which seemed almost as wonderful as Peter’s miraculous draught. As the net was landed the fish broke from it in hundreds, springing through the meshes and over the edges, and literally covering the beach. The Indians are very skilful in drawing the net, going before it and lashing the water with long rods to frighten the fish and drive them in. Senhor da Cunha, who is a very ardent lover of the sport, worked as hard as any of the boatmen, plunging into the water to lend a hand at the net or drive in the fish, and, when the draught was landed on the beach, rushing about in the mud to catch the little fishes which jumped in myriads through the meshes, with an enthusiasm equal to that of Mr. Agassiz himself. The operation was repeated several times, always with the same success, and we returned by moonlight with a boat-load of fish, which Mr. Agassiz is examining this morning, while Mr. Burkhardt makes colored drawings of the rarer specimens. Here, as elsewhere in the Amazonian waters, the variety of species is bewildering. The collections already number more than four hundred, including those from Pará, and, while every day brings in new species, new genera are by no means infrequent. The following letter to Professor Milne Edwards, of the Jardin des Plantes, gives some account of the work in this department.

Teffé, le 22 Septembre, 1865.

Mon cher Ami et très honoré Confrère:—Me voici depuis deux mois dans le bassin de l’Amazone et c’est ici que j’ai eu la douleur de recevoir la nouvelle de la mort de mon vieil ami Valenciennes. J’en suis d’autant plus affecté que personne plus que lui n’aurait apprécié les résultats de mon voyage, dont je me réjouissais déjà de lui faire part prochainement. Vous concevrez naturellement que c’est à la classe des poissons que je consacre la meilleure partie de mon temps et ma récolte excède toutes mes prévisions. Vous en jugerez par quelques données. En atteignant Manaos, à la jonction du Rio Negro et de l’Amazonas, j’avais déjà recueilli plus de trois cents espèces de poissons, dont la moitié au moins ont été peintes sur le vivant c. à. d. d’après le poisson nageant dans un grand vase en verre devant mon dessinateur. Je suis souvent peiné de voir avec quelle légèreté on a publié des planches coloriées de ces animaux. Ce n’est pas seulement tripler le nombre des espèces connues, je compte les genres nouveaux par douzaines et j’ai cinq ou six familles nouvelles pour l’Amazone et une voisine des Gobioides entièrement nouvelle pour l’Ichthyologie. C’est surtout parmi les petites espèces que je trouve le plus de nouveautés. J’ai des Characins de cinq à six centimètres et au-dessous, ornés des teintes les plus élégantes, des Cyprinodontes, se rapprochant un peu de ceux de Cuba et des Etats-Unis, des Scomberésoces voisins du Bélone de la Méditerranée, un nombre considérable de Carapoides, des Raies de genres differents de ceux de l’océan, et qui par conséquent ne sont pas des espèces qui remontent le fleuve. Une foule de Goniodontes et de Chromides de genres et d’espèces inédits. Mais ce que j’apprécie surtout c’est la facilité que j’ai d’étudier les changements que tous ces poissons subissent avec l’âge et les différences de sexe qui existent entr’eux et qui sont souvent très considérables. C’est ainsi que j’ai observé une espèce de Geophagus dont le mâle porte sur le front une bosse très-saillante qui manque entièrement à la femelle et aux jeunes. Ce même poisson a un mode de reproduction des plus extraordinaires. Les œufs passent, je ne sais trop comment, dans la bouche dont ils tapissent le fond, entre les appendices intérieurs des arcs branchiaux et surtout dans une poche formée par les pharyngiens supérieurs qu’ils remplissent complètement. Là ils éclosent et les petits, libérés de leur coque, se développent jusqu’à ce qu’ils soient en état de fournir à leur existence. Je ne sais pas encore combien de temps cela va durer; mais j’ai déjà rencontré des exemplaires dont les jeunes n’avaient plus de sac vitellaire, qui hébergeaient encore leur progéniture. Comme je passerai environ un mois à Teffé, j’espère pouvoir compléter cette observation. L’examen de la structure d’un grand nombre de Chromides m’a fait entrevoir des affinités entre ces poissons et diverses autres familles dont on ne s’est jamais avisé de les rapprocher. Et d’abord je me suis convaincu que les Chromides, répartis autrefois parmi les Labroides et les Sciènoides, constituent bien réellement un groupe naturel, reconnu à peu près en même temps et d’une manière indépendante par Heckel et J. Müller. Mais il y a plus; les genres Enoplosus, Pomotis, Centrarchus et quelques autres genres voisins, rangés parmi les Percoides par tous les Ichthyologistes, me paraissent, d’ici et sans moyen de comparaison directe, tellement voisins des Chromides que je ne vois pas comment on pourra les en séparer, surtout maintenant que je sais que les pharyngiens inférieurs ne sont pas toujours soudés chez les Chromides. Et puis l’embryologie et les métamorphoses des Chromides que je viens d’étudier m’ont convaincu que les “Poissons à branchies labyrinthiques” séparés de tous les autres poissons par Cuvier comme une famille entièrement isolée, à raison de la structure étrange de ses organes respiratoires, se rattachent de très-près aux Chromides. Ce groupe devient ainsi par ses affinités variées, l’un des plus intéressants de la classe des poissons, et le bassin de l’Amazone paraît être la vraie patrie de cette famille. Je ne veux pas vous fatiguer de mes recherches ichthyologiques; permettez moi seulement d’ajouter que les poissons ne sont point uniformément répandus dans ce grand bassin. Déjà j’ai acquis la certitude qu’il faut y distinguer plusieurs faunes ichthyologiques, très-nettement caractérisées; c’est ainsi que les espèces qui habitent la rivière du Pará, des bords de la mer jusque vers l’embouchure du Tocantins, diffèrent de celles que l’on rencontre dans le réseau d’anastomoses qui unissent la rivière de Pará à l’Amazone propre. Les espèces de l’Amazone, au-dessous du Xingu, diffèrent de celles que j’ai rencontrées plus haut; celles du cours inférieur du Xingu, diffèrent de celles du cours inférieur du Tapajos. Celles des nombreux igarapés et lacs de Manaos diffèrent également de celles du cours principal du grand fleuve et de ses principaux affluents. Il reste maintenant à étudier les changements qui peuvent survenir dans cette distribution, dans le cours de l’année, suivant la hauteur des eaux et peut-être aussi suivant l’époque à laquelle les différentes espèces pondent leurs œufs. Jusqu’à présent je n’ai rencontré qu’un petit nombre d’espèces qui aient une aire de distribution très étendue. C’est ainsi que le Sudis gigas se trouve à-peu-près partout. C’est le poisson le plus important du fleuve; celui qui comme aliment remplace le bétail pour les populations riveraines. Un autre problème à résoudre c’est de savoir jusqu’à quel point les grands affluents de l’Amazone répètent ce phénomène de la distribution locale des poissons. Je vais chercher à le résoudre en remontant le Rio Negro et le Rio Madeira et comme je reviendrai à Manaos, je pourrai comparer mes premières observations dans cette localité, avec celles d’une autre saison de l’année. Adieu, mon cher ami. Veuillez faire mes amitiés à M. Elie de Beaumont et me rappeler aux bons souvenirs de ceux de mes collègues de l’Académie qui veulent bien s’intéresser à mes travaux actuels. Faites aussi, je vous prie, mes amitiés à M. votre fils.

Tout à vous,

L. Agassiz.[^[69]]

Mr. Agassiz has already secured quite a number of the singular type of Acarà, which carries its young in its mouth, and he has gathered a good deal of information about its habits. The fishermen here say that this mode of caring for the young prevails more or less in all the family of Acarà. They are not all born there, however; some lay their eggs in the sand, and, hovering over their nest, take up the little ones in their mouth, when they are hatched. The fishermen also add, that these fish do not always keep their young in the mouth, but leave them sometimes in the nest, taking them up only on the approach of danger.[^[70]]

Our household is now established on a permanent basis. We had at first some difficulty in finding servants; at this fishing season, when the men are going off to dry and salt fish, and when the season for hunting turtle-eggs and making turtle-butter is coming on, the town is almost deserted by the men. It is like haying-time in this country, when every arm is needed in the fields. Then the habits of the Indians are so irregular, and they care so little for money, finding, as they do, the means of living almost without work immediately about them, that even if one does engage a servant, he is likely to disappear the next day. An Indian will do more for good-will and a glass of cachaça (rum) than he will do for wages, which are valueless to him. The individual, who has been supplying the place of indoors man while we have been looking for a servant, is so original in his appearance that he deserves a special description. He belongs to a neighbor who has undertaken to provide our meals, and he brings them when they are prepared and waits on the table. He is rather an elderly Indian, and his dress consists of a pair of cotton drawers, originally white, but now of many hues and usually rolled up to the knees, his feet being bare; the upper part of his person is partially (very partially) concealed by a blue rag, which I suppose in some early period of the world’s history must have been a shirt; this extraordinary figure is surmounted by an old straw hat full of holes, bent in every direction, and tied under the chin by a red string. Had he not been a temporary substitute, we should have tried to obtain a more respectable livery for him; but to-day he gives place to an Indian lad, Bruno by name, who presents a more decent appearance, though he seems rather bewildered by his new office. At present his idea of waiting on the table seems to be to sit on the floor and look at us while we eat. However, we hope to break him in gradually. He looks as if he had not been long redeemed from the woods, for his face is deeply tattooed with black, and his lips and nose are pierced with holes, reminding one of the becoming vanities he has renounced in favor of civilization.[^[71]] Besides Bruno we have a girl, Alexandrina by name, who, by her appearance, has a mixture of Indian and black blood in her veins. She promises very well, and seems to have the intelligence of the Indian with the greater pliability of the negro.

September 29th.—One of the great charms of our residence here is, that we have so many pleasant walks within easy reach. My favorite walk in the early morning is to the wood on the brow of the hill. From the summit, the sunrise is lovely over the village below, the lake with its many picturesque points and inlets, and the forests on the opposite shores. From this spot a little path through the bushes brings one at once into a thick, beautiful wood. Here one may wander at will, for there are a great many paths, worn by the Indians, through the trees; and one is constantly tempted on by the cool, pleasant shade, and by the perfume of moss and fern and flower. The forest here is full of life and sound. The buzz of insects, the shrill cry of the cicadas, the chattering talk of the papagaios, and occasionally busy voices of the monkeys, make the woods eloquent. The monkeys are, however, very difficult of approach, and though I hear them often, I have not yet seen them on the trees; but Mr. Hunnewell told me that the other day, when shooting in this very wood, he came upon a family of small white monkeys sitting on a bough together, and talking with much animation. One of the prettiest of the paths, with which my daily walks made me familiar, leads over an igarapé to a house, or rather to a large thatched shed, in the forest, used for preparing mandioca. It is supplied with four large clay ovens, having immense shallow pans fitted on to the top, with troughs for kneading, sieves for straining, and all the apparatus for the various processes to which the mandioca is subjected. One utensil is very characteristic; the large, empty turtle-shells, which may be seen in every kitchen, used as basins, bowls, &c. I suppose this little establishment is used by a number of persons, for in my morning walks I always meet troops of Indians going to it, the women with their deep working baskets,—something like the Swiss “hotte,”—in which they carry their tools, on their backs, supported by a straw band fastened across the forehead, and their babies astride on their hips, so as to leave their hands perfectly free. They always give me a cordial morning greeting and stop to look at the plants and flowers with which I am usually laden. Some of the women are quite pretty, but as a general thing the Indians in this part of the country do not look very healthy, and are apt to have diseases of the eyes and skin. It is a curious thing that the natives seem more liable to the maladies of the country than strangers. They are very subject to intermittent fevers, and one often sees Indians worn to mere skin and bone by this terrible scourge.

If the morning walk in the woods is delightful, the evening stroll on the beach in front of the house is no less so, when the water is dyed in the purple sunset, and the quiet of the scene is broken here and there by a fire on the sands, around which a cluster of Indians are cooking their supper. As Major Coutinho and I were walking on the shore last evening we came on such a group. They were a family who had come over from their home on the other side of the lake, with a boat-load of fish and turtle to sell in the village. When they have disposed of their cargo, they build their fire on the beach, eat their supper of salted or broiled fish, farinha, and the nuts of a particular kind of palm (Atalea), and then sleep in their canoe. We sat down with them, and, that they should not think we came merely out of curiosity, we shared their nuts and farinha, and they were soon very sociable. I am constantly astonished at the frank geniality of these people, so different from our sombre, sullen Indians, who are so unwilling to talk with strangers. The cordiality of their reception, however, depends very much on the way in which they are accosted. Major Coutinho, who has passed years among them, understands their character well, and has remarkable tact in his dealings with them. He speaks their language a little also, and this is important here where many of the Indians speak only the “lingua geral.” This was the case with several of the family whose acquaintance we made last evening, though some of them talked in Portuguese fluently enough, telling us about their life in the forest, their success in disposing of their fish and turtle, and inviting us to come to their house. They pointed out to us one of the younger girls, who they said had never been baptized, and they seemed to wish to have the rite performed. Major Coutinho promised to speak to the priest about it for them. So far as we can learn, the white population do little to civilize the Indians beyond giving them the external rites of religion. It is the old sad story of oppression, duplicity, and license on the part of the white man, which seems likely to last as long as skins shall differ, and which necessarily ends in the degradation of both races.

October 4th.—On Saturday morning at four o’clock, Major Coutinho, Mr. Agassiz, and myself left Teffé in company with our neighbor and landlord Major Estolano, on our way to his “sitio,” a rough sort of Indian lodge on the other side of the Solimoens, where he goes occasionally with his family to superintend the drying and salting of fish, a great article of commerce here. It had rained heavily all night, but the stars were bright, and the morning was cool and fresh when we put off in the canoe. When we issued from Teffé lake it was already broad day, and by the time we entered the Solimoens we began to have admonitions that breakfast-time was approaching. There is something very pleasant in these improvised meals; the coffee tastes better when you have made it yourself, setting up the coffee-machine under the straw-roof of the canoe, dipping up the water from the river over the side of the boat, and cooking your own breakfast. One would think it a great bore at home, with all the necessary means and appliances; but with the stimulus of difficulty and the excitement of the journey it is quite pleasant, and gives a new relish to ordinary fare. After we had had a cup of hot coffee and a farinha biscuit, being somewhat cramped with sitting in the canoe, we landed for a walk on a broad beach along which we were coasting. There is much to be learned on these Amazonian beaches; they are the haunts and breeding-places of many different kinds of animals, and are covered by tracks of alligators, turtles, and capivari. Then there are the nests, not only of alligators and turtles, but of the different kind of fishes and birds that lay their eggs in the mud or sand. It is curious to see the address of the Indians in finding the turtle-nests; they walk quickly over the sand, but with a sort of inquiring tread, as if they carried an instinctive perception in their step, and the moment they set their foot upon a spot below which eggs are deposited, though there is no external evidence to the eye, they recognize it at once, and, stooping, dig straight down to the eggs, generally eight or ten inches under the surface. Besides these tracks and nests, there are the rounded, shallow depressions in the mud, which the fishermen say are the sleeping-places of the skates. They have certainly about the form and size of the skate, and one can easily believe that these singular impressions in the soft surface have been made in this way. The vegetation on these beaches is not less interesting than these signs of animal life. In the rainy season more than half a mile of land, now uncovered along the margins of the river, is entirely under water, the river rising not only to the edge of the forest, but penetrating far into it. At this time of the year, however, the shore consists, first of the beach, then of a broad band of tall grasses, beyond which are the lower shrubs and trees, leading up, by a sort of gradation, to the full forest growth. During this dry season the vegetation makes an effort to recover its lost ground; one sees the little Imbauba (Cecropia) and a kind of willow-tree (Salix humboldiana), the only familiar plant we met, springing up on the sand, and creeping down to the water’s edge, only to be destroyed again with the next rise of the river. While we were walking, the boatmen were dragging the net, and though not with such astonishing success as the other day, yet it landed not only an ample supply of fresh fish for breakfast, but also a number of interesting specimens. At about eleven o’clock we turned from the Solimoens into the little river on which Mr. Estolano’s fishing-lodge is situated, and in a few minutes found ourselves at the pretty landing, where a rough flight of steps led up to the house. In this climate a very slight shelter will serve as a house. Such a dwelling is indeed nothing but a vast porch; and a very airy, pleasant, and picturesque abode it makes. A palm-thatched roof to shed the rain and keep off the sun, covering a platform of split logs that one may have a dry floor under foot; these, with plenty of posts and rafters for the swinging of hammocks, are the essentials. It was somewhat after this fashion that Major Estolano’s lodge was built. The back part of it consisted of one very large, high chamber, to which the family retired in the hottest part of the day, when the sun was most scorching; all the rest was roof and platform, the latter stretching out considerably beyond the former, thus leaving an open floor on one side for the stretching and drying of fish. The whole structure was lifted on piles about eight feet above the ground, to provide against the rising of the river in the rainy season. In front of the house, just on the edge of the bank, were several large, open, thatched sheds, used as kitchen and living-rooms for the negroes and Indians employed in the preparation of the fish. In one of these rooms were several Indian women who looked very ill. We were told they had been there for two months, and they were worn to skin and bone with intermittent fever. Major Coutinho said they were, no doubt, suffering in part from the habit so prevalent among these people of eating clay and dirt, for which they have a morbid love. They were wild-looking creatures, lying in their hammocks or squatting on the ground, often without any clothes, and moaning as if in pain. They were from the forest, and spoke no Portuguese.

We were received most cordially by the ladies of the family, who had gone up to the lodge the day before, and were offered the refreshment of a hammock, the first act of hospitality in this country, when one arrives from any distance. After this followed an excellent breakfast of the fresh fish we had brought with us, cooked in a variety of ways, broiled, fried, and boiled. The repast was none the less appetizing that it was served in picnic fashion, the cloth being laid on the floor, upon one of the large palm-mats, much in use here to spread over the uncarpeted brick floors or under the hammocks. For several hours after breakfast the heat was intense, and we could do little but rest in the shade, though Mr. Agassiz, who works at all hours if specimens are on hand, was busy in making skeletons of some fish too large to be preserved in alcohol. Towards evening it grew cooler, and we walked in the banana plantation near the house, and sat under an immense gourd-tree on the bank, which made a deep shade; for it was clothed not only by its own foliage, but the branches were covered with parasites, and with soft, dark moss, in contrast with which the lighter green, glossy fruit seemed to gain new lustre. I call it a gourd-tree, simply from the use to which the fruit is put. But it goes here by the name of the Cuieira-tree (Crescentia Cajeput), the cup made from the fruit being called a Cuia. The fruit is spherical, of a light green, shiny surface, and grows from the size of an apple to that of the largest melon. It is filled with a soft, white pulp, easily removed when the fruit is cut in halves; the rind is then allowed to dry. Very pretty cups and basins, of many sizes, are made in this way; and the Indians, who understand how to prepare a variety of very brilliant colors, are very skilful in painting them. It would seem that the art of making colors is of ancient date among the Amazonian Indians, for in the account of Francisco Orellana’s journey down the Amazons in 1541, “the two fathers of the expedition declare that in this voyage they found all the people to be both intelligent and ingenious, which was shown by the works which they performed in sculpture and painting in bright colors.”[^[72]] Their paints are prepared from a particular kind of clay and from the juices of several plants which have coloring properties. In an Amazonian cottage one hardly sees any utensils for the table except such as the Indians have prepared and ornamented themselves from the fruits of the Cuieira-tree. I longed to extend my walk into the woods which surrounded us on all sides; but the forest is very tantalizing here, so tempting and so impenetrable. The ladies told me there were no paths cut in the neighborhood of the house.

The next morning we were off early in the canoes on a fish hunt; I call it a hunt advisedly, for the fish are the captives of the bow and spear, not of the net and line. The Indians are very adroit in shooting the larger fish with the bow and arrow, and in harpooning some of the veritable monsters of their rivers, such as the Peixe-boi (“fish-cow”), Manatee or Dugon, with the spear. We made two parties this morning, some of us going in the larger canoe to drag a forest lake with the net, while some of the fishermen took a smaller, lighter boat, to be able to approach their larger prey. Our path lay through a pretty igarapé, where, for the first time, I saw monkeys in a tree by the water-side. On coming to the Amazons we expect to see monkeys as frequently as squirrels are seen at home; but, though very numerous, they are so shy that one rarely gets a fair view of them. After an hour’s row we landed at a little point jutting out into the water, and went through the forest, the men cutting the way before us, clearing the path of branches, fallen trees, and parasitic vines which obstructed it. I was astonished to see the vigor and strength with which Dona Maria, the mother-in-law of our host, made her way through the tangled trees, helping to free the road, and lopping off branches with her great wood-knife. We imagine all the ladies in this warm country to be very indolent and languid; and in the cities, as a general thing, their habits are much less vigorous than those of our women. But here, in the Upper Amazons, the women who have been brought up in the country and in the midst of the Indians are often very energetic, bearing a hand at the oar or the fishing-net with the strength of a man. A short walk brought us out upon a shallow forest lake, or, as the Indians call it, “round water.” The Indian names are often very significant. I have mentioned the meaning of igarapé, “boat path”; to this, when they wish to indicate its size more exactly, they affix either the word “assù” (large) or “mirim” (small). But an igarapé, whether large or small, is always a channel opening out of the main river and having no other outlet. For a channel connecting the upper and lower waters of the same river, or leading from one river to another, they have another word, “Paraná” (signifying river), which they modify in the same way, as Paraná-assú or Paraná-mirim. Paraná-assú, the big river, means also the sea. A still more significant name for a channel connecting two rivers is the Portuguese word “fúro,” meaning bore.

The lake was set in the midst of long, reed-like grass, and, as we approached it, thousands of white water-birds rustled up from the margin and floated like a cloud above us. The reason of their numbers was plain when we reached the lake: it was actually lined with shrimps; one could dip them out by the bucketful. The boatmen now began to drag the net, and perhaps nowhere, from any single lake or pond, has Mr. Agassiz made a more valuable collection of forest fishes. Among them was a pipe-fish, one of the Goniodont family, very similar to our ordinary Syngnathus in appearance, but closely related to Acestra, and especially interesting to him as throwing light on certain investigations of his, made when quite a young man. This specimen confirmed a classification by which he then associated the pipe-fish with the Garpikes and Sturgeons, a combination which was scouted by the best naturalists of the time, and is even now repudiated by most of them. Without self-glorification, it is impossible not to be gratified when the experience of later years confirms the premonitions of youth, and shows them to have been not mere guesses, but founded upon an insight into the true relations of things. Wearied after a while with watching the fishing in the sun, I went back into the forest, where I found the coffee-pot already boiling over the fire. It was pleasant to sit down on a fallen, moss-grown trunk, and breakfast in the shade. Presently the fishermen came back from the lake, and we found our way to the boats again, laden with an immense number of fishes. The gentlemen returned to the house in one of the smaller montarias, taking the specimens with them, and leaving me to return in the larger canoe with the Senhoras. It seemed to me strange on this Sunday morning, when the bells must be ringing and the people trooping to church under the bright October sky, in our far-off New England home, to be floating down this quiet igarapé, in a boat full of half-naked Indians, their wild, monotonous chant sounding in our ears as they kept time to their oars. In these excursions one learns to understand the fascination this life must have for a people among whom civilization is as yet but very incomplete; it is full of physical enjoyment, without any mental effort. Up early in the morning and off on their fishing or hunting excursions long before dawn, they return by the middle of the day, lie in their hammocks and smoke during the hours of greatest heat; cook the fish they have brought with them, and, unless sickness comes to them, know neither want nor care. We reached the house in time for a twelve o’clock breakfast of a more solid character than the lighter one in the forest, and by no means unacceptable after our long row. In the course of the day two “Peixe-bois” (Manatees) were brought in, also a Boto (porpoise), and some large specimens of Pirarucu (Sudis). All these are too clumsy to preserve in alcohol, especially when alcohol is so difficult to obtain and so expensive as it is here; but Mr. Agassiz has had skeletons made of them, and will preserve the skins of the Peixe-bois for mounting. He obtained at the same time an entirely new genus of the Siluroid family. It is a fish weighing some ten pounds, called here the Pacamum, and of a bright canary color.