Farewell Visit to the Great Cascade at Manaos.—Change in its Aspect.—Arrival at Villa Bella.—Return to the House of the Fisherman Maia.—Excursion to the Lago Maximo.—Quantity of Game And Waterfowl.—Victoria Regia.—Leave Villa Bella.—Arrive at Obydos.—Its Situation and Geology.—Santarem.—Visit to the Church.—Anecdote of Martius.—A Row overland.—Monte Alégre.—Picturesque Scenery.—“Banheiras.”—Excursion into the Country.—Leave Monte Alégre.—Anecdote of Indians.—Almeyrim.—New Geological Facts.—Porto do Moz.—Collections.—Gurupá.—Tajapurú.—Arrive at Pará.—Religious Procession.—Excursion To Marajo.—Sourés.—Jesuit Missions.—Geology of Marajo.—Buried Forest.—Vigia.—Igarapé.—Vegetation and Animal Life.—Geology.—Return to Pará.—Photographing Plants.—Extract from Mr. Agassiz’s Notes on the Vegetation of the Amazons.—Prevalence Of Leprosy.
January 15th.—To-day finds us on our way down the Amazons in the “Ibicuhy.” The day before leaving Manaos we paid a last visit to the great cascade, bathed once more in its cool, delicious waters, and breakfasted by the side of the fall. Before many weeks are over, the cascade will have disappeared; it will be drowned out, as it were, for the igarapé is filling rapidly with the rise of the river, and will soon reach the level of the sandstone shelf over which the water is precipitated. Already the appearance of the spot is greatly changed since we were there before. The banks are overflowed; the rocks and logs which stood out from the water are wholly covered; and where there was only a brawling stream, so shallow that it hardly afforded depth for the smallest canoe, there is now a not insignificant river. Indeed, everywhere we see signs of the changes wrought by the “enchente.” The very texture of the Amazons is changed; it is thicker and yellower than when we ascended it, and much more laden with floating wood, detached grasses, and débris of all sorts washed from the shore. Wild-flowers are also more abundant than they were when we came up the river in September; not delicate, small plants, growing low among moss and grass, as do our violets, anemones, and the like; but large blossoms, covering tall trees, and resembling exotics at home, by their rich color and powerful odor. Indeed, the flowers of the Amazonian forests always remind me of hot-house plants: and there often comes a warm breath from the depths of the woods, laden with moisture and perfume, like the air from the open door of a conservatory.
January 17th.—We reached Villa Bella at eight o’clock yesterday morning, but waited there only a few hours to make certain necessary arrangements, and then kept on to the mouth of the river Ramos, an hour’s sail from the town,—the same river which we had ascended from its upper point of juncture with the Amazons, on our excursion to Mauhes. We anchored at a short distance from the entrance, before the house of our old acquaintances, the Maias, where, it may be remembered, we passed a few days when collecting in this neighborhood before. Fortunately, Maia himself was in Manaos when we left, employed as a soldier in the National Guard; and the President kindly gave him leave to accompany us, that Mr. Agassiz might have the advantage of his familiarity with the locality, and his experience in fishing. The man himself was pleased to have an opportunity of visiting his family, to whom his coming was an agreeable surprise. We went on shore this morning to make them a visit, taking with us some little souvenirs, such as beads, trinkets, knives, &c. We were received as old friends, and made welcome to all the house would afford; but, though as clean as ever, it looked poorer than on our former visit. I saw neither dried fish nor mandioca nor farinha, and the woman told me that she found it very hard to support her large family, now that the husband and father was away.
The quantity of detached grass, shrubs, &c. carried past the vessel, as we lie here at anchor, is amazing,—floating gardens, sometimes half an acre in extent. Some of these green rafts are inhabited; water-birds go sailing by upon them, and large animals are occasionally carried down the river in this way. The commander told me that, on one occasion, when an English vessel was lying at anchor in the Parana, one of these grassy gardens was seen coming down the river with two deer upon it. The current brought it directly against the ship, and the captain had only to receive on board the guests who arrived thus unexpectedly to demand his hospitality. In the same river another floating island brought with it a less agreeable inhabitant: a large tiger had possessed himself of it and was sailing majestically with the current, passing so near the shores that he was distinctly seen from the banks; and people went out in montarias to get a nearer view of him, though keeping always at a respectful distance. The most conspicuous of the plants thus detached from the shore are the Canarana (a kind of wild cane), a variety of aquatic Aroides, Pistia among the number, Ecornia, and a quantity of graceful floating Marsileaceæ.
January 18th.—To-day we have been on a hunt after the Victoria regia. We have made constant efforts to see this famous lily growing in its native waters; but, though frequently told that it was plenty at certain seasons in the lakes and igarapés, we have never been able to find it. Yesterday some of the officers of the ship, who had been on an excursion to a neighboring lake, returned laden with botanical treasures of all sorts, and, among other plants, an immense lily-leaf, which, from its dimensions, we judged must be the Victoria regia, though it had not the erect edge so characteristic of it. This morning, accompanied by two or three of yesterday’s party, who kindly undertook to be our guides, we went to visit the same lake. A short walk from the river-bank brought us to the shore of a large sheet of water,—the Lago Maximo,—which connects with the Ramos by a narrow outlet, but at a point so distant from our anchorage that it would have been necessary to make a great detour in order to reach it in a canoe. We found an old montaria, with one or two broken paddles, left, as it seemed, at the lake-shore for whom it might concern, and in that we embarked at once. The banks of this lake are bordered with beautiful forests, which do not, however, rise immediately from the water, but are divided from it by a broad band of grass. We saw many water-birds on this grassy edge, as well as on several dead trees, the branches of which were completely covered with gulls, all in exactly the same attitude, facing one way, to meet the wind which blew strongly against them. Ducks and ciganas were plenty; and once or twice we startled up from the woods small flocks of mackaws,—not only the gaudy red, green, and yellow species, but the far more beautiful blue mackaw. They flew by us, with their gorgeous plumage glittering in the sun, and disappeared again among the trees, seeking deeper and more undisturbed retreats. From the reedy grasses came also the deep note of the unicorn, so greatly prized in Brazil,—a large bird, half wader, half fowl, belonging to the genus Palamedea; but as we were only prepared for a botanizing expedition, we could not avail ourselves of any of the opportunities thus offered; and the birds, however near and tempting the shots, had little to fear from us. At the upper end of the lake we came upon the bed of water-lilies from which the trophies of yesterday had been gathered. The leaves were very large, many of them from four to five feet in diameter; but, perhaps from having lost their first freshness and something therefore of their natural texture, the edge of the leaf was scarcely perceptibly raised, and in most instances lay perfectly flat upon the water. We found buds, but no perfect flower. In the afternoon, however, one of the daughters of our fisherman Maia, hearing that we wished to see one of the flowers, brought us a very perfect specimen from another more distant locality, which we had not time to visit. The Indians, by the way, have a characteristic name for the leaf. They call it “forno,” on account of its resemblance to the immense shallow pans in which they bake their farinha over the mandioca ovens. The Victoria regia, with its formidable armor of spines, its gigantic leaves, and beautiful flowers, deepening in color from the velvety white outer leaves through every shade of rose to deepest crimson, and fading again to a creamy, yellowish tint in the heart of the flower, has been described so often that I hardly dare dwell upon it, for fear of wearying the reader. And yet we could not see it growing in its native waters—a type, as it were, of the luxuriance of tropical nature—without the deepest interest. Wonderful as it is when seen in the tank of a greenhouse, and perhaps even more impressive, in a certain sense, from its isolation, in its own home it has the charm of harmony with all that surrounds it,—with the dense mass of forest, with palm and parasite, with birds of glowing plumage, with insects of all bright and wonderful tints, and with fishes which, though hidden in the water beneath it, are not less brilliant and varied than the world of life above. I do not remember to have seen an allusion, in any description, to the beautiful device by which the whole immense surface of the adult leaf is contained within the smaller dimensions of the young one; though it is well worth notice, as one of the neatest specimens of Nature’s packing. All know the heavy scaffolding of ribs by which the colossal leaf, when full grown, is supported on its under side. In the young leaf these ribs are comparatively small, but the whole green expanse of the adult leaf is gathered in between them in regular rows of delicate puffings. At this period, the leaf is far below the surface of the water, growing slowly up from the base of the stock from which it springs. Thus drawn up, it has the form of a deep cup or vase; but in proportion as the ribs grow, their ramifications stretching in every direction, the leaf lets out one by one its little folds, to fill the ever-widening spaces; till at last, when it reaches the surface of the water, it rests horizontally above it, without a wrinkle. Mr. Agassiz caused several stocks to be dragged up from the bottom (no easy matter, on account of the spines), and found the leaf-buds just starting between the roots,—little white caps, not more than half an inch in height. There was another lily growing in this lake, which, though diminutive by the side of the Victoria, would be a giant among our water-lilies. The leaf measured more than a foot in diameter, and was slightly scolloped around the edge. There were no open flowers, but the closed buds resembled those of our common white water-lilies, and were no larger. The stalk and ribs, unlike those of the Victoria, were quite smooth, and free from thorns. After our visit to the lilies, we paddled in among the trees along the overflowed margin of the lake, in order that the boatmen might cut down several palms new to us. While waiting under the trees in the boat, we had cause to admire the variety and beauty of the insects fluttering about us; the large blue butterflies (Morpho), and the brilliant dragon-flies, with crimson bodies and burnished wings, glittering with metallic lustre.[88]
January 21st.—Obydos. We left Villa Bella yesterday with a large collection of fishes, and some valuable additions to the collection of palms. The general character of the fish collections, both from the river Ramos and the Lago Maximo, shows the faunæ to be the same now as when we were here five months ago. Certainly, during this interval, migration has had no perceptible influence upon the distribution of life in these waters. Leaving Villa Bella at night, we reached Obydos early this morning. This pretty town is one of the most picturesque in position, on the Amazons. It stands on a steep bluff, commanding an extensive view of the river west and east, and is one of the few points at which the southern and northern shores are seen at the same time. The bluff of Obydos is crowned by a fortress, which has stood here for many years without occasion to test its power. It may be doubted whether it would be very effectual in barring the river against a hostile force, inasmuch as its guns, though they carry perfectly well to the opposite side, are powerless nearer home. The slope of the cliff on which the fortress stands intervenes between it and the water below, so that by keeping well in to shore the enemy could pass with impunity immediately under the guns. The hill consists entirely of the same red drift so constantly recurring on the banks of the Amazons and its tributaries. Here it is more full of pebbles than at Manaos or at Teffé; and we saw these pebbles disposed in lines or horizontal beds, such as are found in the same deposit along the coast and in the neighborhood of Rio. The city of Obydos is prettily laid out, its environs are very picturesque, its soil extremely fertile; but it has the same aspect of neglect and hopeless inactivity so painfully striking in all the Amazonian towns.
January 23d. Yesterday, in the early morning, we arrived at Santarem, and went on shore for a walk at half past seven. The town stands on a point of land dividing the black waters of the Tapajoz, on the one side, from the yellow flood of the Amazons on the other, and has a very attractive situation, enhanced by its background of hills stretching away to the eastward. Our first visit was to the church, fronting on the beach and standing invitingly open. We had, however, a special object in entering it. In 1819 Martius, the naturalist, on his voyage of exploration on the Amazons, since made famous by his great work on the Natural History of Brazil, was wrecked off the town of Santarem, and nearly lost his life. In his great danger he took a vow to record his gratitude, should he live, by making a gift to the church of Santarem. After his return to Europe, he sent from Munich a full-length figure of Christ upon the cross, which now hangs against the wall, with a simple inscription underneath, telling in a few words the story of his peril, his deliverance, and his gratitude. As a work of art it has no special value, but it attracts many persons to the church who never heard of Martius or his famous journey; and to Mr. Agassiz it was especially interesting, as connected with the travels and dangers of his old friend and teacher.
After a walk through the town, which is built with more care, and contains some houses having more pretensions to comfort and elegance than we have seen elsewhere on the Amazons, we returned to the ship for breakfast. At a later hour we went on a very pleasant canoe excursion to the other side of the Tapajoz, again in search of the Victoria regia, said to grow in great perfection in this neighborhood. Our guide was Senhor Joachim Rodriguez, to whom Mr. Agassiz has been indebted for much personal kindness, as well as for a very valuable collection made since we stopped here on our way up the river, partly by himself and partly by his son, a bright boy of some thirteen years of age. Crossing to the opposite side of the river, we came upon a vast field of coarse, high grass, looking like an extensive meadow. To our surprise, the boatmen turned the canoe into this green field, and we found ourselves apparently navigating the land, for the narrow boat-path was entirely concealed by the long reedy grasses and tall mallow-plants with large pink blossoms rising on either side, and completely hiding the water below. This marshy, overflowed ground, above which the water had a depth of from four to six feet, was full of life. As the rowers pushed our canoe through the mass of grass and flowers, Mr. Agassiz gathered from the blades and stalks all sorts of creatures; small bright-colored toads of several kinds, grasshoppers, beetles, dragon-flies, aquatic snails, bunches of eggs,—in short, an endless variety of living things, most interesting to the naturalist. The harvest was so plentiful that we had only to put out our hands and gather it; the oarsmen, when they saw Mr. Agassiz’s enthusiasm, became almost as interested as he was; and he had soon a large jar filled with objects quite new to him. After navigating these meadows for some time, we came upon open water-spaces where the Victoria regia was growing in great perfection. The specimens were much finer than those we had seen before in the Lago Maximo. One leaf measured five feet and a half in diameter, and another five feet, the erect edge being three inches and a half in height. A number of leaves grew from the same stalk; and seen thus together they are very beautiful, the bright rose-color of the outer edge contrasting with the vivid green of the inner surface of the leaf. As before, there were no open flowers to be seen; Senhor Rodriguez told us that they are cut by the fishermen almost as soon as they open. When Mr. Agassiz expressed a wish to get the roots, two of our boatmen plunged into the water with an alacrity which surprised me, as we had just been told that these marshes are the haunts of Jacarés. They took turns in diving to dig up the plants, and succeeded in bringing to the surface three large stalks, one with a flower-bud. We returned well pleased with our row overland.
Our live-stock is increasing as we descend the river, and we have now quite a menagerie on board; a number of parrots, half a dozen monkeys, two exquisite little deer from the region of Monte Alégre, and several Agamis, as tame and gentle as barn-yard fowls, stepping about the deck with graceful, dainty tread, and feeding from the hand. Their voices are singularly harsh, however, and out of keeping with their pretty looks and ways. Every now and then they raise their heads, stretch their long necks, and utter a loud, gurgling sound, more like the roll of a drum than the note of a bird. Last, but not least, we have a sloth on board, the most fascinating of all our pets to me, not certainly for his charms, but for his oddities. I am never tired of watching him, he looks so deliciously lazy. His head sunk in his arms, his whole attitude lax and indifferent, he seems to ask only for rest. If you push him, or if, as often happens, a passer-by gives him a smart tap to arouse him, he lifts his head and drops his arms so slowly, so deliberately, that they hardly seem to move, raises his heavy lids and lets his large eyes rest upon your face for a moment with appealing, hopeless indolence; then the lids fall softly, the head droops, the arms fold heavily about it, and he collapses again into absolute repose. This mute remonstrance is the nearest approach to activity I have seen him make. These live animals are not all a part of the scientific collections; many of them belong to the captain and officers. The Brazilians are exceedingly fond of pets, and almost every house has its monkeys, its parrots, and other tame animals and birds.
January 26th.—Monte Alégre. Leaving Santarem on Tuesday we arrived here on Wednesday morning, and, as on our former visit, were received most hospitably at the house of Senhor Manuel. Mr. Agassiz and Mr. Coutinho have gone on a geologizing excursion to the Serra d’Ereré, that picturesque range of hills bounding the campos, or open sandy plain, to the northwest of the town. They took different routes, Major Coutinho, with Captain Faria and one or two other friends, crossing the campos on horseback, while Mr. Agassiz went by canoe. They will meet at the foot of the Serra, and pass two or three days in that neighborhood. Little is as yet known of the geological structure of the Amazonian Serras,—those of Santarem, of Monte Alégre, and of Almeyrim. Generally they have been considered as prolongations either of the table-land of Guiana on the north, or that of Brazil on the south. Mr. Agassiz believes them to be independent of both, and more directly connected with the formation of the Amazonian Valley itself. The solution of this question is his special object, while Major Coutinho has taken barometers to determine the height of the range. In the mean time, I am passing a few quiet days here, learning to be more familiar with the scenery of a region very justly called one of the most picturesque on the borders of the Amazons. Not only are the views extensive, but the friable nature of the soil, so easily decomposed, combined with the heavy rains, has led to the formation of a variety of picturesque dells and hollows, some of which have springs running into them, surrounded by rocky banks and overhung with trees. One of these is especially pretty; the excavation is large, and has the form of an amphitheatre; its rocky walls are crowned with large forest-trees, palms, mimosas, etc., making a deep shade; and at one side the spring flows down from the top of the cliff, with a pleasant ripple. Here the negro or Indian servants come to fill their water-jars. They often have with them the children under their charge; and you may sometimes see the large red jars standing under the mouth of the spring above, while white babies and dark nurses splash about in the cool water-basin below. Although in the campos the growth is low, and the soil but scantily covered with coarse grass and shrubs, yet, in some localities, and especially in the neighborhood of the town, the forest is beautiful. We have seen nowhere larger and more luxuriant mimosas, sometimes of a green so rich and deep, and a foliage so close that it is difficult to believe, at a distance, that its dense mass is formed by the light, pinnate leaves of a sensitive plant. The palms are also very lofty and numerous, including some kinds which we have not met before.
January 28th.—Yesterday our kind host arranged an excursion into the country, for my especial pleasure, that I might see something of the characteristic amusements of Monte Alégre. One or two neighbors joined us, and the children, a host of happy little folks, for whom anything out of the common tenor of every-day life is “festa,” were not left behind. We started on foot to walk out into a very picturesque Indian village called Surubiju. Here we were to breakfast, returning afterwards in one of the heavy carts drawn by oxen, the only conveyance for women and children in a country where a carriage-road and a side-saddle are equally unknown. Our walk was very pleasant, partly through the woods, partly through the campos; but as it was early in the day, we did not miss the shade when we chanced to leave the trees. We lingered by the wayside, the children stopping to gather wild fruits, of which there were a number on the road, and to help me in making a collection of plants. It was about nine o’clock when we reached the first straw-house, where we stopped to rest. Though it has no longer the charm of novelty for me, I am always glad to visit an Indian cottage. You find a cordial welcome; the best hammock, the coolest corner, and a cuia of fresh water are ready for you. As a general thing, the houses of the Indians are also more tidy than those of the whites; and there is a certain charm of picturesqueness about them which never wears off.
After a short rest, we went on through the settlement, where the sitios are scattered at considerable distances, and so completely surrounded by trees that they seem quite isolated in the forest. Although the Indians are said to be a lazy people, and are unquestionably fitful and irregular in their habits of work, in almost all these houses some characteristic occupation was going on. In two or three the women were making hammocks, in one a boy was plaiting the leaves of the Curua palm into a tolda for his canoe, in another the inmates were making a coarse kind of pottery; and in still another a woman, who is quite famous in the neighborhood for her skill in the art, was painting cuias. It was the first time I had seen the prepared colors made from a certain kind of clay found in the Serra. It is just the carnival season, and, as every one has a right to play pranks on his neighbors, we did not get off without making a closer acquaintance than was altogether pleasant with the rustic artist’s colors. As we were leaving the cottage, she darted out upon us, her hands full of blue and red paints. If they had been tomahawks, they could not have produced a more sudden rout; and it was a complete sauve qui peut of the whole company across the little bridge which led to the house. As a stranger, I was spared; but all were not fortunate enough to escape, and some of the children carried their blue and red badges to the end of the day.
The prettiest of all these forest sitios was one at the bottom of a deep dell, reached by a steep, winding path through a magnificent wood abounding in palms. But though the situation was most picturesque, the sickly appearance of the children and the accounts of prevailing illness showed that the locality was too low and damp to be healthful. After a very pleasant ramble we returned to breakfast at our first resting-place, and at about one o’clock started for town in two ox-carts which had come out to meet us. They consist only of a floor set on very heavy, creaking wooden wheels, which, from their primitive, clumsy character, would seem to be the first wheels ever invented. On the floor a straw-mat was spread, an awning was stretched over a light scaffolding above, and we were soon stowed away in our primitive vehicle, and had a very gay and pleasant ride back to town. Yesterday evening Mr. Agassiz returned from his excursion to the Serra Ereré. I add here a little account of the journey, written out from his notes, and containing some remarks on the general aspect of the country, its vegetation and animals. A summary of the geological results of the excursion will be found in a separate chapter at the close of our Amazonian journey.
“I started before daylight; but as the dawn began to redden the sky large flocks of ducks, and of the small Amazonian goose, might be seen flying towards the lakes. Here and there a cormorant sat alone on the branch of a dead tree, or a kingfisher poised himself over the water, watching for his prey. Numerous gulls were gathered in large companies on the trees along the river-shore; alligators lay on its surface, diving with a sudden plash at the approach of our canoe; and occasionally a porpoise emerged from the water, showing himself for a moment and then disappearing again. Sometimes we startled a herd of capivaras, resting on the water’s edge; and once we saw a sloth, sitting upon the branch of an Imbauba tree (Cecropia), rolled up in its peculiar attitude, the very picture of indolence, with its head sunk between its arms. Much of the river-shore consisted of low, alluvial land, and was covered with that peculiar and beautiful grass known as Capim; this grass makes an excellent pasturage for cattle, and the abundance of it in this region renders the district of Monte Alégre very favorable for agricultural purposes. Here and there, where the red-clay soil rose above the level of the water, a palm-thatched cabin stood on the low bluff, with a few trees about it. Such a house was usually the centre of a cattle-farm, and large herds might be seen grazing in the adjoining fields. Along the river-banks, where the country is chiefly open, with extensive low, marshy grounds, the only palm to be seen is the Maraja (Geonoma). After keeping along the Rio Gurupatuba for some distance, we turned to the right into a narrow stream, which has the character of an igarapé in its lower course, though higher up it drains the country between the serra of Ereré and that of Tajury, and assumes the appearance of a small river. It is named after the serra, and is known as the Rio Ereré. This stream, narrow and picturesque, and often so overgrown with capim that the canoe pursued its course with difficulty, passed through a magnificent forest of the beautiful fan-palm, called the Miriti (Mauritia flexuosa). This forest stretched for miles, overshadowing, as a kind of underbrush, many smaller trees and innumerable shrubs, some of which bore bright, conspicuous flowers. It seemed to me a strange spectacle,—a forest of monocotyledonous trees with a dicotyledonous undergrowth; the inferior plants thus towering above and sheltering the superior ones. Among the lower trees were many Leguminosæ,—one of the most striking, called Fava, having a colossal pod. The whole mass of vegetation was woven together by innumerable lianas and creeping vines, in the midst of which the flowers of the Bignonia, with its open, trumpet-shaped corolla, were conspicuous. The capim was bright with the blossoms of the mallow, growing in its midst; and was often edged with the broad-leaved Aninga, a large aquatic Arum.
“Through such a forest, where the animal life was no less rich and varied than the vegetation, our boat glided slowly for hours. The number and variety of birds struck me with astonishment. The coarse, sedgy grasses on either side were full of water birds, one of the most common of which was a small chestnut-brown wading bird, the Jaçana (Parra), whose toes are immensely long in proportion to its size, enabling it to run upon the surface of the aquatic vegetation, as if it were solid ground. It was now the month of January, their breeding season; and at every turn of the boat we started them up in pairs. Their flat, open nests generally contained five flesh-colored eggs, streaked in zigzag with dark brown lines. The other waders were a snow-white heron, another ash-colored, smaller species, and a large white stork. The ash-colored herons were always in pairs; the white ones always single, standing quiet and alone on the edge of the water, or half hidden in the green capim. The trees and bushes were full of small warbler-like birds, which it would be difficult to characterize separately. To the ordinary observer they might seem like the small birds of our woods; but there was one species among them which attracted my attention by its numbers, and also because it builds the most extraordinary nest, considering the size of the bird itself, that I have ever seen. It is known among the country people by two names, as the Pedreiro or the Forneiro; both names referring, as will be seen, to the nature of its habitation. This singular nest is built of clay, and is as hard as stone (pedra), while it has the form of the round mandioca oven (forno) in which the country people prepare their farinha, or flour, made from the mandioca root. It is about a foot in diameter, and stands edgewise upon a branch, or in the crotch of a tree. Among the smaller birds I noticed bright Tanagers, and also a species resembling the Canary. Besides these, there were the wagtails; the black and white widow-finches; the hang-nests, or Japi, as they are called here, with their pendent, bag-like dwellings, and the familiar “Bem ti vi.” Humming-birds, which we are always apt to associate with tropical vegetation, were very scarce. I saw but a few specimens. Thrushes and doves were more frequent, and I noticed also three or four kinds of woodpeckers, beside parrots and paroquets; of these latter there were countless numbers along our canoe path, flying overhead in dense crowds, and at times drowning every other sound in their high, noisy chatter.
“Some of these birds made a deep impression upon me. Indeed, in all regions, however far away from his own home, in the midst of a fauna and flora entirely new to him, the traveller is startled occasionally by the song of a bird or the sight of a flower so familiar that it transports him at once to woods where every tree is like a friend to him. It seems as if something akin to what in our own mental experience we call reminiscence or association existed in the workings of Nature; for though the organic combinations are so distinct in different climates and countries, they never wholly exclude each other. Every zoölogical and botanical province retains some link which binds it to all the others, and makes it part of the general harmony. The Arctic lichen is found growing under the shadow of the palm on the rocks of the tropical serra; and the song of the thrush and the tap of the woodpecker mingle with the sharp, discordant cries of the parrot and paroquet.
“Birds of prey, also, were not wanting. Among them was one about the size of our kite, and called the Red Hawk, which was so tame that, even when our canoe passed immediately under the low branch on which he was sitting, he did not fly away. But, of all the groups of birds, the most striking as compared with corresponding groups in the temperate zone, and the one which reminded me the most distinctly of the fact that every region has its peculiar animal world, was that of the gallinaceous birds. The most frequent is the Cigana, to be seen in groups of fifteen or twenty, perched upon trees overhanging the water, and feeding upon berries. At night they roost in pairs, but in the daytime are always in larger companies. In their appearance they have something of the character of both the pheasant and peacock, and yet do not closely resemble either. It is a curious fact, that, with the exception of some small partridge-like gallinaceous birds, all the representatives of this family in Brazil, and especially in the valley of the Amazons, belong to types which do not exist in other parts of the world. Here we find neither pheasants, nor cocks of the woods, nor grouse; but in their place abound the Mutum, the Jacu, the Jacami, and the Unicorn (Crax, Penelope, Psophia, and Palamedea), all of which are so remote from the gallinaceous types found farther north that they remind one quite as much of the bustard, and other ostrich-like birds, as of the hen and pheasant. They differ also from northern gallinaceous birds in the greater uniformity of the sexes, none of them exhibiting those striking differences between the males and females which we see in the pheasants, the cocks of the woods, and in our barn-yard fowls, though the plumage of the young has the yellowish-mottled color distinguishing the females of most species of this family. While birds abounded in such numbers, insects were rather scarce. I saw but few and small butterflies, and beetles were still more rare. The most numerous insects were the dragon-flies,—some with crimson bodies, black heads, and burnished wings; others with large green bodies, crossed by blue bands. Of land-shells I saw but one, creeping along the reeds; and of water-shells I gathered only a few small Ampullariæ.
“Having ascended the river to a point nearly on a line with the serra, I landed, and struck across the campos on foot. Here I entered upon an entirely different region,—a dry, open plain, with scanty vegetation. The most prominent plants were clusters of Cacti and Curua palms, a kind of stemless, low palm, with broad, elegant leaves springing vase-like from the ground. In these dry, sandy fields, rising gradually toward the serra, I observed in the deeper gullies formed by the heavy rains the laminated clays which are everywhere the foundation of the Amazonian strata. They here presented again so much the character of ordinary clay-slates that I thought I had at last come upon some old geological formation. Instead of this I only obtained fresh evidence that, by baking them, the burning sun of the tropics may produce upon laminated clays of recent origin the same effect as plutonic agencies have produced upon the ancient clays,—that is, it may change them into metamorphic slates. As I approached the serra, I was again reminded how, under the most dissimilar circumstances, similar features recur everywhere in nature. I came suddenly upon a little creek, bordered with the usual vegetation of such shallow water-courses, and on its brink stood a sand-piper, which flew away at my approach, uttering its peculiar cry, so like what we hear at home that, had I not seen him, I should have recognized him by his voice. After an hour’s walk under the scorching sun, I was glad to find myself at the hamlet of Ereré, near the foot of the serra, where I rejoined my companions. This is almost the only occasion in all my Amazonian journey when I have passed a day in the pure enjoyment of nature, without the labor of collecting, which in this hot climate, where specimens require such immediate and constant attention, is very great. I learned how rich a single day may be in this wonderful tropical world, if one’s eyes are only open to the wealth of animal and vegetable life. Indeed, a few hours so spent in the field, in simply watching animals and plants, teaches more of the distribution of life than a month of closet study; for under such circumstances all things are seen in their true relations. Unhappily, it is not easy to present the picture as a whole; for all our written descriptions are more or less dependent on nomenclature, and the local names are hardly known out of the districts where they belong, while systematic names are familiar to few.”
January 30th.—On board the “Ibicuhy.” Yesterday we parted from our kind hosts, and bade good by to Monte Alégre. I shall long retain a picture, half pleasant, half sad, of its shady, picturesque walks and dells; of its wide green square, with the unfinished cathedral in the centre, where trees and vines mantle the open doors and windows, and grass grows thick over the unfrequented aisles; of its neglected cemetery, and the magnificent view it commands over an endless labyrinth of lakes on one side, beyond which glitter the yellow waters of the Amazons, while, on the other, the level campos is bordered by the picturesque heights of the distant Serra. I have never been able to explain quite to my own satisfaction the somewhat melancholy impression which this region, lovely as it unquestionably is, made upon me when I first saw it,—an impression not wholly destroyed by a longer residence. Perhaps it is the general aspect of incompleteness and decay, the absence of energy and enterprise, making the lavish gifts of Nature of no avail. In the midst of a country which should be overflowing with agricultural products, neither milk, nor butter, nor cheese, nor vegetables, nor fruit, are to be had. You constantly hear people complaining of the difficulty of procuring even the commonest articles of domestic consumption, when, in fact, they ought to be produced by every land-owner. The agricultural districts in Brazil are rich and fertile, but there is no agricultural population. The nomad Indian, floating about in his canoe, the only home to which he has a genuine attachment, never striking root in the soil, has no genius for cultivating the ground. As an illustration of the Indian character, it may not be amiss to record an incident which occurred yesterday when we were leaving Monte Alégre. On his journey to Ereré, Major Coutinho had been requested by an Indian and his wife, whose acquaintance he had made in former excursions there, to take one of their boys, a child about eight years of age, with him to Rio. This is very common among the Indians; they are not unwilling to give up their children, if they can secure a maintenance for them, and perhaps some advantages of education besides. On the day of departure, the mother and father and two sisters accompanied the child to the steamer, but I think, as the sequel showed, rather for the sake of seeing the ship, and having a day of amusement, than from any sentiment about parting with the child. When the moment of separation came, the mother, with an air of perfect indifference, gave the little boy her hand to kiss. The father seemed to be going off without remembering his son at all; but the little fellow ran after him, took his hand and kissed it, and then stood crying and broken-hearted on the deck, while the whole family put off in the canoe, talking and laughing gayly, without showing him the least sympathy. Such traits are said to be very characteristic of the Indians. They are cold in their family affections; and though the mothers are very fond of their babies, they seem comparatively indifferent to them as they grow up. It is, indeed, impossible to rely upon the affection of an Indian, even though isolated cases of remarkable fidelity have been known among them. But I have been told over and over again, by those who have had personal experience in the matter, that you may take an Indian child, bring him up, treat him with every kindness, educate him, clothe him, and find him to be a useful and seemingly faithful member of the household; one day he is gone, you know not where, and in every probability you will never hear of him again. Theft is not one of their vices. On the contrary, such an Indian, if he deserts the friend who has reared him and taken care of him, is very likely to leave behind him all his clothes, except those he has on, and any presents he may have received. The only thing he may be tempted to take will be a canoe and a pair of oars: with these an Indian is rich. He only wants to get back to his woods; and he is deterred by no sentiment of affection, or consideration of interest.
To-day we are passing the hills of Almeyrim. The last time we saw them it was in the glow of a brilliant sunset; to-day, ragged edges of clouds overhang them, and they are sombre under a leaden, rainy sky. It is delightful to Mr. Agassiz, in returning to this locality, to find that phenomena, which were a blank to him on our voyage up the river, are perfectly explicable now that he has had an opportunity of studying the geology of the Amazonian Valley. When we passed these singular flat-topped hills before, he had no clew to their structure or their age,—whether granite, as they have been said to be, or sandstone or limestone; whether primitive, secondary, or tertiary: and their strange form made the problem still more difficult. Now he sees them simply as the remnants of a plain which once filled the whole valley of the Amazons, from the Andes to the Atlantic, from Guiana to Central Brazil. Denudations on a colossal scale, hitherto unknown to geologists, have turned this plain into a labyrinth of noble rivers, leaving only here and there, where the formation has resisted the rush of waters, low mountains and chains of hills to tell what was its thickness.[89]
February 1st.—On Tuesday evening we reached Porto do Moz, on the river Xingú, where we had expected to be detained several days, as Mr. Agassiz wished especially to obtain the fishes from this river, and, if possible, from its upper and lower course, between which rapids intervene. He found, however, his harvest ready to his hand. Senhor Vinhas, with whom, when stopping here for a few hours on his voyage up the river, he had had some conversation respecting the scientific objects of his visit to the Amazons, has made during our absence one of the finest collections obtained in the whole course of our journey, containing, in separate lots, the fishes from above and below the cascade. By means of this double collection, which Mr. Agassiz has already examined carefully, he ascertains the fact that the faunæ on either side of the falls are entirely distinct from each other, as are those of the upper and lower courses of the Amazons, and also those of its tributaries, lakes, and igarapés. This is a most important addition to the evidence already obtained of the distinct localization of species throughout the waters of the Amazonian Valley. We regretted that, on account of the absence of Senor Vinhas from the town, we could not thank him in person for this valuable contribution. Finding that the efforts of this gentleman had really left nothing to be done in this locality, unless, indeed, we could have stayed long enough to make collections in all the water-basins connected with the Xingu, we left early in the morning and reached Gurupá yesterday. This little town stands on a low cliff some thirty feet above the river. On a projecting point of this cliff there is an old, abandoned fort; and in the open place adjoining it stands a church of considerable size, and seemingly in good repair. But the settlement is evidently not prosperous. Many of its houses are ruinous and deserted, and there is even less of activity in the aspect of the place than in most of the Amazonian villages. We heard much of its insalubrity, and found very severe cases of intermittent fever in one or two of the houses we entered. While Mr. Agassiz made a call upon the subdelegado, who was himself confined to his room with fever, I was invited to rest in the open veranda of a neighboring house, which looked pretty and attractive enough; for it opened into a sunny garden, where bananas and oranges and palm-trees were growing. But the old woman who received me complained bitterly of the dampness, to which, indeed, her hoarse cough and rheumatism bore testimony; and a man was lying in his hammock, slung under the porch, who was worn to mere skin and bone with fever. Here also we received some valuable specimens, collected, since our previous visit, by the subdelegado and one or two other residents.
February 3d.—On Thursday we reached Tajapuru, where we were detained for two days on account of some little repair needed on the steamer. The place is interesting as showing what may be done on the Amazons in a short time by enterprise and industry. A settler in these regions may, if he has the taste and culture to appreciate it, surround himself with much that is attractive in civilized life. Some seventeen years ago Senhor Sepeda established himself at this spot, then a complete wilderness. He has now a very large and pleasant country-house, with a garden in front and walks in the forest around. The interior of the house is commodious and tasteful; and we could not but wish, while we enjoyed Senhor Sepeda’s hospitality, that his example might be followed, and that there might be many such homes on the banks of the Amazons. This morning we are again on our way down the river.
February 4th.—We reached Pará to-day, parting, not without regret, from the “Ibicuhy,” on board of which we have spent so many pleasant weeks. Before we left the vessel, Captain Faria ordered the carpenter to take down our little pavilion on deck. It had been put up for our accommodation, and had served as our dining-room and our working-room, our shelter from the sun, and our snug retreat in floods of rain.[90] On arriving in Pará we found ourselves at once at home in the house of our kind friend, Senhor Pimenta Bueno, where we look forward to a pleasant rest from our wanderings. I insert here a letter to the Emperor, written two or three weeks later, and containing a short summary of the scientific work on the Amazons.