CHAPTER V.

Leave Para for the Rice Mills-Boatmen-Night scene upon the water-Arrival-Vicinity of the mills-A Brazilian forest-Sporting--Toucans-Chatterers--MotmotsManikins--Humming-birds-Snake stories-Absence of flies--Ants-Saübas-Cupims Little Ant-eater-Lakes-Nests of Troopials-Sloth-Armadillo-Beetles--PumaMonkeys-Indian boy-Description of the mills-Blacks--Sleeping in hammocksVampire bats-Wasps' nests-Visit Corentiores-Sporting there--Reception- Bread fruit-Larangeirs-Cotton tree-Maseranduba or Cow tree-Walk through the forest to the city-Spider-Flowers.

OUR first excursion, to any distance, was to the Rice Mills, at Magoary, only twelve miles from Pará by land, and two tides, or about ten hours by water. The overland route being, in many respects, inconvenient, we determined to venture in one of the canoes, always in readiness for such excursions, near the Punto da Pedras; and for this purpose, engaged a fair looking craft, with a covered and roomy cabin, and manned by two whites and a negro. Leaving the city in the middle of the afternoon, we took advantage of the ebbing tide, and, by dark, had entered the stream, which was to carry us to our destination. But our two white sailors were lazy scoundrels, and we did not feel sufficiently acquainted with the language, or accustomed to the ways of the country, to give them the scolding they deserved. This they knew enough to comprehend, and the consequence was, that we lost the flood tide which should have carried us up, and were obliged to anchor and spend the night on board. One of these men was an old salt, battered and worn, the other was a young fellow of twenty, with a good-looking face and nut-brown skin, wearing upon his head a slouched felt hat, and, altogether, the very image of peasant figures seen in Spanish paintings. Not at all disturbed by our dissatisfied looks, and ominous grumblings, they coolly stretched themselves out upon the seats, and started up a wild song, the

burden of which was of love, and the dark-eyed girls they had left behind them in the city. It was a lovely night, and the music, and other gentle influences, soon restored our good humor, and we felt, at last, inclined to forgive the laziness that had left us here. No clouds obscured the sky, and the millions of starry lights, that, in this clime, render the moon's absence of little consequence, were shining upon us in their calm, still beauty. The stream, where we were anchored, was narrow; tall trees drooped over the water, or mangroves shot out their long finger-like branches into the mud below. Huge bats were skimming past, night-birds were calling in strange voices from the tree-tops, fire-flies darted their mimic lightnings, fishes leaped above the surface, flashing in the starlight, the deep, sonorous baying of frogs came up from distant marshes, and loud plashings in shore, suggested all sorts of nocturnal monsters. 'Twas our first night upon the water, and we enjoyed the scene, in silence, long after our boatmen had ceased their song, until nature's wants were too much for our withstanding, and we sank upon the hard floor to dream of scenes far different.

It was eight o'clock in the morning, when turning an angle of the stream, we came full in view of the mill, the proximity of which we had been made sensibly aware of, for the last half hour, by the noisy clamor of the machinery. It was a lofty stone structure, standing forth in this retirement, like some antique erection. Mr. Leavens was expecting us, and we were delighted once more to shake the hand of a warm-hearted countryman. Breakfast was upon the table, and here, for the first time, we ventured to test our capacities for fish and farinha. The fish was a hard case, coarser than shark meat, and requiring an intimacy with vinegar and oil to remove its unpleasant rankness. Farinha was not so disagreeable, and we soon came to love it as do the natives. Indeed, long before our Amazonian experience had ended, we could relish the fish, also, as well as any Indian.

The scenery about the mill is very fine. In front, the stream, a broad lake at high water, and a tiny brook at other times, skirting a low meadow, at the distance of a hundred rods, is lost in the embowering shrubbery. All beyond is a dense

forest. Upon the meadow, a number of large, fat cattle are browsing on the coarse grass, and flocks of Jacanas, a family of water-birds remarkable for their long toes, which enable them to step upon the leaves of lilies and other aquatic plants, are flying with loud cries from one knoll to another. Back of the mill, the road leads towards the city, and to the right and left are well-beaten paths, leading to small, clear lakes, from which the mill derives its water. The whole vicinity was formerly a cultivated estate, but the grounds are now densely overgrown. At the distance of a mile, the road crosses what is called the first bridge, which spans a little stream that runs sporting through the woodland. The color of the water of this, and other small streams, is of a reddish cast, owing, doubtless, to the decomposing vegetation. It is, however, very clear, and fishes, and eels, may at any time be seen playing among the logs and sticks which strew the bottom. Beyond this bridge is the primeval forest. Trees of incredible girt tower aloft, and from their tops one in vain endeavors to bring down the desired bird with a fowling-piece. The trunks are of every variety of form, round, angular, and sometimes, resembling an open net-work, through which the light passes in any direction. Amid these giants, very few low trees or little underbrush interferes with one's movements, and very rarely is the path intercepted by a fallen log. But about the trees cling huge snake-like vines, winding round and round the trunks, and through the branches sending their long arms, binding Sometimes they throw down long feelers, which swing in mid air, until they reach the ground, when, taking root, they, in their turn, throw out arms that cling to the first support. In this way, the whole forest is linked together, and a cut tree rarely falls without involving the destruction of many others. This creeping vine is called sepaw, and, having the strength and flexibility of rope, is of inestimable value in the construction of houses, and for various other purposes.

tree to tree.

Around the tree trunks clasp those curious anomalies, parasitic plants, sometimes throwing down long, slender roots to the ground, but generally deriving sustenance only from the tree itself, and from the air; called hence, appropriately

enough, air-plants. These are in vast numbers, and of every form, now resembling lilies, now grasses, or other familiar plants. Often, a dozen varieties cluster upon a single tree. Towards the close of the rainy season, they are in blossom, and their exquisite appearance, as they encircle the mossy and leafed trunk, with flowers of every hue, can scarcely be imagined. At this period, too, vast numbers of trees add their tribute of beauty, and the flower-domed forest, from its many colored altars, ever sends heavenward worshipful incense. Nor is this wild luxuriance unseen or unenlivened. Monkeys are frolicking through festooned bowers, or chasing in revelry over the wood arches. Squirrels scamper in ecstasy from limb to limb, unable to contain themselves for joyousness. Coatis are gamboling among the fallen leaves, or vieing with monkeys in nimble climbing. Pacas and agoutis chase wildly about, ready to scud away at the least noise. The sloth, enlivened by the general inspiration, climbs more rapidly over the branches, and seeks a spot, where, in quiet and repose, he may rest him. The exquisite, tiny deer, scarcely larger than a lamb, snuffs exultingly the air, and bounds fearlessly, knowing that he has no enemy here.

Birds of gaudiest plumage, flit through the trees. The trogon, lonely sitting in her leaf-encircled home, calls plaintively to her long absent mate. The motmot utters his name in rapid tones. Tucáno, tucáno, comes loudly from some fruitcovered tree, where the great toucans are rioting. "Noiseless chatterers" flash through the branches. The loud rattling of the woodpecker comes from some topmost limb; and tiny creepers, in livery the gayest of the gay, are running up the tree trunks, stopping, now and then, their busy search, to gaze inquisitively at the strangers. Pairs of chiming-thrushes are ringing their alternate notes, like the voice of a single bird. Parrots are chattering; paroquets screaming. Manakins are piping in every low tree, restless, never still. Woodpigeons, the "birds of the painted breasts," fly startled; and pheasants, of a dozen varieties, go whirring off. But, most beautiful of all, humming birds, living gems, and surpassing aught that's brilliant save the diamond, are constantly darting by; now,

stopping an instant, to kiss the gentle flower, and now, furiously battling some rival humble-bee. Beijar flor, kiss-flower, 'tis the Brazilian name for the humming bird, beautifully appropriate. Large butterflies float past, the bigness of a hand, and of the richest metallic blue; and from the flowers above, comes the distant hum of myriads of gayly coated insects. From his hole in the sandy road, the harmless lizard, in his gorgeous covering of green and gold, starts nimbly forth, stopping, every instant, with raised head and quick eye, for the appearance of danger; and armies of ants, in their busy toil, are incessantly marching by.

How changed from all this, is a night scene. The flowers, that bloomed by day, have closed their petals, and nestled in their leafy beds, are dreaming of their loves. A sister host now take their place, making the breezes to intoxicate with perfume, and exacting homage from bright, starry eyes. A murmur, as of gentle voices, floats upon the air. The moon darts down her glittering rays, till the flower-enameled plain glistens like a shield: but in vain she strives to penetrate the denseness, except some fallen tree betrays a passage. Below, the tall tree trunk rises dimly through the darkness. Huge moths, those fairest of the insect world, have taken the places of the butterflies, and myriads of fire-flies never weary in their torch-light dance. Far down the road, comes on a blaze, steady, streaming like a meteor. It whizzes past, and, for an instant, the space is illumined, and dewy jewels from the leaves throw back the radiance. 'Tis the lantern-fly, seeking what he himself knows best, by the fiery guide upon his head. The air of the night bird's wing fans your cheek, or you are startled by his mournful note, wac-o-row, wac-o-row, sounding dolefully, by no means so pleasantly as our whippoorwill. The armadillo creeps carelessly from his hole, and, at slow pace, makes for his feeding ground; the opossum climbs stealthily up the tree, and the little ant-eater is out pitilessly marauding.

All this supposes pleasant weather; but a storm in these forests has an interest, though of a very different kind. Heavy clouds come drifting from the east, preceded by a low, ominous murmur, as the big drops beat upon the roof of leaves.