180 A JOURNEY IN BRAZIL. 
my young friend R- and I waltzed for them, to their 
great delight. It seemed to me like a strange dream. 
The bright fire danced with us, flickering in under the 
porch, fitfully lighting its picturesque interior and the 
group of wondering Indians around us, who encouraged 
us every now and then with a " Muito bonito, mia branca, 
muito bonito' (Very pretty, my white, very pretty). Our 
ball kept up very late, and after I had gone to my ham- 
mock I still heard, between waking and sleeping, the plain- 
tive chords of the guitar, mingling with the melancholy 
note of a kind of whippoorwill, who sings in the woods all 
night. This morning the forest is noisy w r ith the howling 
monkeys. They sound very near and very numerous ; but 
we are told that they are deep in the forest, and would 
disappear at the slightest approach. 
September 1st. Yesterday morning we bade our friendly 
hosts good-by, leaving their pretty picturesque home with 
real regret. The night before we left, they got together 
some of their neighbors in our honor, and renewed the 
ball of the previous evening. Like things of the same 
kind in other classes, the second occasion, got up with a 
little more preparation than the first, which was wholly 
impromptu, was neither so gay nor so pretty. Frequent 
potations of cachaca made the guests rather noisy, and 
their dancing, under this influence, became far more ani- 
mated, and by no means so serious and dignified as the 
evening before. One thing which occurred early in the 
entertainment, however, was interesting, as showing some- 
thing of their religious observances. In the morning Es- 
peranc,a's mother, a hideous old Indian woman, had come 
into my room to make me a visit. Before leaving, I was 
rather surprised to see her kneel down by a little trunk 
