ty trees, that had been tapped upon the previous morning. This quantity of milk, he said, would suffice for ten pairs of shoes, and when he himself attended to the trees, he could collect the same quantity, every morning, for several months. But his girls could only collect from seventy trees. The Seringa trees do not usually grow thickly, and such a number may require a circuit of several miles. In making the shoes, two girls were the artistes, in a little thatched hut, which had no opening but the door. From an inverted water jar, the bottom of which had been broken out for the purpose, issued a column of dense, white smoke, from the burning of a species of palm nut, and which so filled the hut, that we could scarcely see the inmates. The lasts used were of wood, exported from the United States, and were smeared with clay, to prevent adhesion. In the leg of each, was a long stick, serving as a handle. The last was dipped into the milk, and immediately held over the smoke, which, without much discoloring, dried the surface at once. It was then re-dipped, and the process was repeated a dozen times, until the shoe was of sufficient thickness, care being taken to give a greater number of coatings to the bottom. The whole operation from the smearing of the last, to placing the finished shoe in the sun, required less than five minutes. The shoe was now of a slightly more yellowish hue than the liquid milk, but in the course of a few hours, it became of a reddish brown. After an exposure of twenty-four hours, it is figured, as we see upon the imported shoes. This is done by the girls, with small sticks of hard wood, or the needle-like spines of some of the palms. Stamping has been tried, but without success. The shoe is now cut from the last, and is ready for sale: bringing a price of from ten to twelve vintens, or cents, per pair. It is a long time before they assume the black hue. Brought to the city, they are assorted, the best being laid aside for exportation as shoes, the others as waste rubber. The proper designation for this latter, in which are included bottles, sheets, and any other form excepting selected shoes, is borácha, and this is shipped in bulk. There are a number of persons in the city, who make a business of filling shoes with rice chaff and hay, previous to their being packed in boxes. They are gen

erally fashioned into better shape by being stretched upon lasts after they arrive at their final destination. By far the greater part of the rubber exported from Pará, goes to the United States, the European consumption being comparatively very small.

At this place, we found the largest and finest oranges that we had ever seen, and, for about twelve cents, purchased a bushel.

Anatto is a common product in the vicinity of Pará, but in no place is it cultivated to much extent. The plant is the Bixa Orellana. It is a shrub, growing much like the lilac, and bears a dark leaf, similarly shaped, but much larger. The clusters of fruit pods contain numerous small red seeds, which yield the substance known as the anatto of commerce, and which is used extensively in coloring cheese. It is difficult to obtain the anatto in a pure state. Its color so much resembles that of red clay, as to render adulteration easy and profitable.

Late in the evening we arrived at Jáguary, the place of the late Baron Pombo, who was the greatest proprietor in the province, owning more than one thousand slaves, and cultivating an immense territory. The village consists almost entirely of the residences of those dependent upon the estate; and the bright light of torches, and the noise of various factories and mills, indicated that labor was exerting itself by night as well as by day. We moored close under the Baron's house, a large, palace-like edifice.

Starting once more, at two in the morning, of the 25th, by three we had crossed the Acará, and by daybreak, were within sight of the city. The music of the band, the ringing of the bells, and the distant hum, came towards us like water to thirsty souls. The men broke out into a joyous song, and with a lively striking of their paddles, beating time to their quick music, they sped us past canoe after canoe, that, in easy indolence, was coursing like ourselves.

At eight o'clock, we were once more upon the Punto da Pedras, the spot we had left one hundred days before, receiving the warm congratulations of friends, and the curious attentions of a motley crowd, who had collected to gaze at the strangers from the Sertoen.

CHAPTER XIX.

Our Lady of Nazareth-Nazaré legend-Procession-Commencement of the festa-A walk to Nazaré-Gambling--Services in the chapel-An interesting incident.

SHORTLY after our return, commenced the festival of Na

zaré.

This is the grand holiday of Pará, when business is suspended, and citizens have no care but pleasure. Our Lady of Nazareth seems to have received proper honors of old, in the mother country, and the faithful colonists still acknowledged her maternal kindness by enshrining her as their most popular tutelary. Did trouble afflict, or sorrow bow down; did danger menace, or were dangers escaped, our blessed Lady was ever considered the friend and benefactress. Many are the traditions of her miraculous interpositions and wonderful cures, all tending to prove how well she deserves the exalted place she holds in the hearts of all good citizens.

Befitting so beneficent a Saint is the beautiful spot devoted to her worship; a neat chapel within an ever verdant forest-embowered meadow. Quite lately, a number of graceful cottages have been erected about the area, mostly by wealthy persons in the city, who prefer to live here during the festa. At this time, numerous temporary constructions also line the adjacent road on either side, or find room about the square. The time usually chosen, by long custom, is the last of September, or early in October, when the increasing moon throws her splendors over the scene, and the dry season has fairly ushered in the unclouded, brilliant nights; when the air is redolent of perfume, and delicious coolness invites from the closeness of the city.

Associated with the kind offices of our Lady is an ancient legend, deemed worthy an annual recollection. It is of a knight, who, when rushing over an unnoticed precipice in pursuit of a deer, was saved from destruction by the timely apparition of our Lady, which caused the deflection of his affrighted horse.

It was about four in the afternoon, when the fierce sun's heat began to lose its power, that the procession which was to commence the festa by escorting our Lady to her chapel, formed in the Largo da Palacio. Amid the din of music, the discharge of rockets, and the vociferous applause of a vast crowd of blacks, it set forth. We had accepted the kind offer of a friend, and were watching from a balcony in the Rua da Cadeira. As the line approached, first and most conspicuous was a car drawn by oxen, in which were stationed boys having a supply of rockets, which at little intervals they discharged. Nothing so pleases a Brazilian as noise, especially the noise of gunpowder; and not only are rockets crackling night and day upon every public occasion, but the citizens are wont to celebrate their own private rejoicings by the same token.

Directly behind this car came another, similarly drawn, upon which was a rude representation of the before mentioned legend; a monster of a man upon a caricature of a horse, being about to leap into space, while a canvass virgin upon the edge of the rock, or rather in the middle of the cart, prevented the catastrophe. Behind her was an exquisite little deer, no canvass abomination, but a darling of a thing, just from the forest, wild and startled. The poor thing could not comprehend the confusion, and would gladly have escaped, but the cord in its collar forced it back, and at last seeming resigned to its fate, it lay motionless upon its bed of hay.

Next followed the carriages, and therein, the pictures of complacence, sat the civic dignitaries and civic worthies. As locomotion is the sole object, every thing that can contribute thereto, from the crazy old tumble-down vehicle of the conquest, through every description of improvement, until the year '46, is pressed into the service. Most noticeable in this part of the procession is the President, a fine looking man, whose attention is constantly occupied by his fair friends in

the balconies. Here and there, is a foreign consul, conspicuous among whom is the official of her Majesty of England, a venerable, soldierly figure, one of Wellington's campaigners and countrymen, and occupying decidedly the most dashing turnout of the day. Last of the carriages, comes a queer looking vehicle, known by no conventional name, but four-wheeled, and resembling the after part of an antique hackney coach, cut in two vertically and crosswise. In this sits a grave personage, holding in his hand the symbol of our Lady, to all appearance, a goodly sized wax doll, in full dress, magnificent in gaudy ribbons, and glowing with tinsel. Senhora is the darling of the crowd, and her attractions have lost none of their freshness during her year's seclusion.

Nossa

Now come the equestrians, whose chargers do credit to their research, if not to the country which produced them; now and then one being a graceful animal, but the greater number, raw-boned, broken-winded, down-hearted, and batbitten. After these, come black-robed priests, students in uniform, and genteel pedestrians, and, last of all, the military in force, preceded by their fine band.

Passing through the more important streets, the long line turns its course towards Nazaré, and here our Lady is deposited upon the altar of her chapel, and the festa has fairly begun.

The festa is of nine days' duration, and service is performed in the chapel every evening. For the first two or three days, the people are scarcely in the spirit of the thing, but before the novena is ended, the city is deserted, and its crowds are at home in Nazaré. Let us take a sunset walk, and see what is curious in a Pará festival. The brightness of day has passed with scarcely an interval, into the little inferior brilliance of the full moon. The trades, that blow more freshly at night, unite with the imperceptibly falling dew in exhilarating after the day's fatigues. Lofty trees, and dense shrubs throw over us their rapidly varying shadows, and from their flower homes. the cicadas, and other night insects, chant their homage to the blessed Lady, in a vesper hymn. Grave matrons are passing along, attended by servants bearing prayer books; and com