LIFE IN TEFFE. 225 
Here one may wander at will, for there are a great many 
paths, worn by the Indians, through the trees ; and one 
is constantly tempted on by the cool, pleasant shade, and 
by the perfume of moss and fern and flower. The forest 
here is full of life and sound. The buzz of insects, the 
shrill cry of the cicadas, the chattering talk of the papagaios, 
and occasionally busy voices of the monkeys, make the 
woods eloquent. The monkeys are, however, very difficult 
of approach, and though I hear them often, I have not yet 
seen them on the trees ; but Mr. Hunnewell told me that 
the other day, when shooting in this very wood, he came 
upon a family of small white monkeys sitting on a bough 
together, and talking with much animation. One of the 
prettiest of the paths, with which my daily walks made 
me familiar, leads over an igarapd to a house, or rather 
to a large thatched shed, in the forest, used for preparing 
rnandioca. It is supplied with four large clay ovens, 
having immense shallow pans fitted on to the top, with 
troughs for kneading, sieves for straining, and all the 
apparatus for the various processes to which the mandioca 
is subjected. One utensil is very characteristic ; the large, 
empty turtle-shells, which may be seen in every kitchen, 
used as basins, bowls, &c. I suppose this little establish- 
ment is used by a number of persons, for in my morning 
walks I always meet troops of Indians going to it, the 
women with their deep working baskets, something like 
the Swiss " hotte," in which they carry their tools, on 
their backs, supported by a straw band fastened across 
the forehead, and their babies astride on their hips, so as 
to leave their hands perfectly free. They always give me a 
cordial morning greeting and stop to look at the plants and 
flowers with which I am usually laden. Some of the women 
10* o 
