to the huts and a frugal breakfast.  Here in the wilds of Brazil there are no subways, no worry about the “market,” nor indeed any thought for the morrow.  Nature supplies the rubber trees, and the “boss” the tools to work them with; the philosophy of the rubber-worker goes no farther.  A shirt, trousers, and a hat are all the dress that fashion requires, and often the worker even finds the shirt superfluous.  He wears a pair of overalls, and carries slung over his shoulder his rifle and the little hatchet for tapping the trees, besides a small rubber bag in which he keeps a supply of farinha and jerked beef, should he be prevented from reaching his hut in regulation time.

The seringueiro is free in his movements and in his mind, he is a quick and keen observer of nature, and an expert in knowledge of the cries and calls of the animals of the forest.  He knows their habits and hiding-places to perfection, and he could probably astonish the naturalist by informing him of many things he has observed that his brother scientist never has heard of.  He knows the names of the trees and plants in the forest and what they can be used for, though his knowledge of them is often supplemented by superstitious imaginings.  He knows the multitudinous fish of the Amazon, whether they are to be caught with a net, speared, or shot with bow and arrows, or, if the hunter is of a progressive disposition, shot with rifle ball.  There are varieties that have, as yet, not been seen, classified, or identified by the scientist of to-day—­I am positive of having seen several such.

The inhabitant of this region is clean in his habits and in his mind as soon as he gets away from the evil influence of civilisation—­which for him is the town of Remate de Males or “Culmination of Evils.”  He takes a bath at least twice a day, and attends closely to the cleanliness of his wardrobe, which for that matter does not absorb any considerable amount of time.  As a rule, he is industrious, but frequent attacks of fever, dysentery, liver and spleen complaints, or pneumonia make him in the end, like all living things here not native to the forests, sluggish in general, and irritable on occasion.

A little distance from the headquarters lies a beautiful lake.  It is not wider than the Itecoahy itself, four hundred feet on an average, and is about five miles long.  It runs parallel with the river, and has only one outlet.  In the dry season this amounts to nothing more than a little rivulet across which a large fallen tree has formed a natural bridge, but in January, when the waters rise, the creek is so full that the servants of Coronel da Silva can wash the linen there.  After some weeks of sojourn at Floresta, I found my way to this lake, and it was here that I was able to observe some of the largest specimens of Amazonian reptiles in their haunts, where the equatorial sun had full opportunity to develop an amazing growth of faunal and floral life.