ollaria, mentioned by Spix, much resembling the castanha in appearance and growth. When this is ripe, an operculum falls from the lower side of the encasing pericarp, and affords egress to the nuts within. Monkeys and squirrels are so excessively fond of these, that it is usually impossible to obtain more than the empty pericarp.

Next to the castanha tree, the calabash, or cuya, was most attractive. It was low, its trunk overgrown with moss and small parasitic plants. Directly from the bark of the trunk, or branches, without intervening stems, grew the gourds, a bright green in color, and often six inches in diameter, giving the tree a very curious appearance. The smaller gourds are cut in halves, the pulp removed, and the shell reduced by scraping. This, being sufficiently dried, is painted both inside and out, by the Indian women, with ingenious and sometimes beautiful devices. They are the universal drinking cup, and are known by the name of cuyas.

The cleared space, round about, was of great extent, much being under cultivation, but a still larger portion was thickly overgrown with tall weeds. Here were scores of ant hills, between three and four feet in height, conically shaped, and each having two or more entrances the bigness of one's arm. The exterior of these hills was of stony hardness; within were galleries and cells. The earth of which they were composed seemed always different from that in the vicinity, and evidently had been brought grain by grain. In the woods, we frequently encountered a different kind of ant hill. A space of a rod square would be entirely divested of tree or bush, and every where, the surface was broken into little mounds, formed by the earth brought up from below. While upon this subject, I will describe an ant battle, several of which we watched, at different times and places. The combatants were always a species of small black ant, and a red variety, equally small. Coming in long lines from different directions, it seemed as if they had previously passed a challenge, and had selected the ground for their deadly strife. The front ranks met and grappled, toiling like wrestlers, biting and stinging; they soon fell, exhausted and in the death agony. Others fought over their bodies and

likewise fell, and still, continually, over the increasing pile, poured on the legions of survivors, fighting, for several days in succession, until a pile of a peck, or more, lay like a pyramid. They marched to certain death, and had their size been proportionate to their courage, these battle fields had mocked earth's bloodiest.

The woods about Taüaü were of the loftiest growth and filled with game, both birds and animals. Here we first encountered the gorgeous Macaws, climbing over the fruit-covered branches and hoarsely crying. They were wiser than most birds, however, having acquired something of that faculty from long experience; for their brilliant colors, and long plumes render them desirable in the eyes of every Indian. They were not unwilling to allow us one glimpse, but beyond that, we never attained.

As might be expected, Woodpeckers are exceedingly numerous throughout these forests, and the size of most species is in some proportion to the labor they have to perform, in gaining their livelihood from these enormous trees. Every where is heard their loud rattle, and harsh, peculiar note. In this latter respect, many species so resembled those familiar to us at home, that we could scarcely believe that the stranger that fell dead at our feet, victim of a long, successful shot, ought not to have been one of the Golden-wings, or Red-heads, that we had so often tried our skill upon.

The same varieties are found throughout the river country; as common upon the Rio Negro as at Pará. The most gaudy of all, and the especial favorite of the Indians, is the Picus rubricollis, whose crested head, neck, and breast, are of a brilliant red. Another finely crested species is the P. lineatus. There is also the P. fulvus, nearly the size of our Golden-wing, and of a deep brown color. Another, as large, is almost wholly of a light yellow. Of lesser species, there seemed no end, and some of them were singularly diminutive.

The Tree-creepers were a more eagerly sought family, and two beautiful little species are quite common in the vicinity of Pará. One of these is of a deep indigo blue, with a black throat, Certhia coerulea; the other, C. Cayana, is conspicuous

for the brilliant ultramarine blue that caps his head. Otherwise he is marked with blue, and black, and yellow. These little things are usually seen running up and down the tree trunks, or flitting hurriedly from branch to branch, busied in searching for insects upon the bark. They are extremely familiar, and allow of near approach. At intervals, they emit slight, whispering notes, but their anxious haste leaves one with the impression that they might do themselves much more credit as songsters, at their leisure. We never fell in with these species up the river, their place there being supplied by other varieties.

In the lower woods, were great numbers of Doves, of many species, but similar to those we had elsewhere met. Most beautiful of all is the Pombo troucal-Columba speciosa (Linn.), the "bird of the painted breast." They are of large size, and usually are seen in pairs, within the shade of some dense tree, but, early in the morning, are often discovered, in large numbers, upon the limbs of leafless trees, of which, at every season, there are very many throughout the forest.

The smallest and most graceful of all these doves, is the Rola, the Ground Dove-C. passerina-of our Southern States, not larger in size than many sparrows. They are seen, about cleared fields and houses, in large flocks, and when unmolested, become extremely familiar.

About every plantation, are two varieties of Tanagers, domestic as our robin, resting in the orange trees under the windows, and constantly flitting among the branches, uttering their few notes, which, though pleasing, can scarcely be called a song. One of these, the Silver-bill, Tanagra jacapa, has a crimsonvelvet livery, and silvery bill; the other, Tanagra cana, is, mostly, a sky-blue. The former is called Pipira, from its note. Its nest is neatly formed of leaves and tendrils of vines, and the eggs are usually three and four, of a light-blue color, and much marked, at the larger end, with spots of brown.

Upon one occasion, A- brought in a sloth which he had shot, and I skinned him, with the intention of preserving his body for some anatomical friend, at home, to whom sloths might be a novelty. But our cook was too alert for us, and before

we were aware, she had him from the peg where he hung dripping, and into the stew-pan, whence he made his debut upon our dinner-table. We dissembled our disappointment, and did our best to look with favor upon the beast, but his lean and tough flesh, nevertheless, could not compare with monkey.

There are animals much resembling the racoon, called Coatis. They are extremely playful, and may occasionally be seen gamboling, in parties of two or more, among the dry leaves. When tame, they possess all a racoon's mischievousness. These, as well as monkeys, according to Goldsmith, were wont, of old, to live upon their own tails.

One of the negroes brought us a little animal of the opossum kind, called the Macura çheçhéga. It was scarcely larger than a small squirrel, and its hair was of silky softness. We could probably have preserved it alive, but its captor had broken both its hinder legs, to prevent its running away. This is the common custom of the blacks and Indians, when they desire to preserve an animal for a time, before it is eaten.

About the flowers in wood and field, was a profusion of butterflies, almost all gaudy beyond any thing we have at the North. The most showy of all, was a large variety, of a skyblue color, and brilliant metallic lustre. We observed but one species seen also in the Northern States, the common red butterfly of our meadows, in August. In this clime, the insects of all kinds are nimble, beyond comparison with those elsewhere, and often, the collector is disappointed in his chase. He has a more embarrassing difficulty than that, however, for without the most unceasing care, the ever-present ants will, in a few moments, destroy the labor of a month.

A week passed rapidly and delightfully. The fator returned, and urgently pressed our longer stay, but reported letters from home, hastened us back to the city. The past week had been the close of Lent, and during our absence, the city had been alive with rejoicings. Festas and celebrations had taken place daily, and hundreds of proprietors, with their families and servants, had collected, from every part, to share the general joyousness. Of all these festival days, that of Judas was

the favorite, and the one especially devoted to uproariousness. That unlucky disciple, by every sort of penance, atoned for the deeds done in the flesh. He was drowned, he was burned, he was hung in chains, and quartered, and was dragged by the neck over the rough pavements, amid the execrations of the rabble.

A few days after our return from Taüaü, in company with Messrs. Smith and Norris, we visited the plantation of Sr. Angelico, upon the river Guamá, for the purpose of seeing the manufacture of rubber. A few hours' pull brought us, by sunrise, to a sitio upon the southern side, standing upon a lofty bank, and commanding a fine view of the river. Here we exchanged our canoe for a montaria, as we were soon to ascend a narrow igaripé, where a few inches of width, more or less, might be material; after which, we continued a little distance further up the river. The Guamá is a larger stream than the Acará, but much like that river in the appearance of its banks, these often being high, and, in parts, well settled. By some of the eastern branches of the Guamá, easy communication is had with streams flowing towards Maranham, and this route is occasionally taken by carriers. Suddenly the boat turned, and we shot into a little igaripé so embowered in the trees, that we might have passed, unsuspecting its existence. The water was at its height, calm as a lake. Threading our narrow path between the immense tree trunks, a dozen times, we seemed to have reached the terminus, brought up by the opposing bank; but as often, a turn would discover itself, and we appeared as far from the end as ever. Standing in this water were many seringa, or rubber trees, their light-gray bark all scarred by former wounds. We gave passing cuts at some of them, and saw the white gum trickle down. When, at last, we landed, it was to pick our way, as best we could, over a precarious footing of logs and broken boards, from which a false step might have precipitated us into mud, rich and deep. Once upon terra firma, a short walk brought us to the house, concealed among an orchard of cocoa trees. A loud viva announced our approach, and immediately, Senhor Angelico bustled out of his hammock, where he lay swinging in the