272 A JOURNEY IN BRAZIL. 
and blackened trunks standing out of the lake like ruins. 
We did not go very fast nor very far, for our amateur 
boatmen found the evening warm, and their rowing was 
rather play than work ; they stopped, too, every now and 
then, to get a shot at a white heron or to shoot into a flock 
of parroquets or ciganas, whereby they wasted a good deal 
of powder to no effect. As we turned to come back we 
were met by one of the prettiest sights I have ever seen. 
The Indian women, having finished their dinner, had taken 
the little two-masted canoe, dressed with flags, which had 
been prepared for the President's reception, and had come 
out to meet us. They had the music on board and there 
were two or three men in the boat ; but the women were 
some twelve or fifteen in number, and seemed, like genuine 
Amazons, to have taken things into their own hands. They 
were rowing with a will ; and as the canoe drew near, with 
music playing and flags flying, the purple lake, dyed in the 
sunset and smooth as a mirror, gave back the picture. 
Every tawny figure at the oars, every flutter of the crim- 
son and blue streamers, every fold of the green and yellow 
national flag at the prow, was as distinct below the surface as 
above it. The fairy boat for so it looked floating be- 
tween glowing sky and water, and seeming to borrow color 
from both, came on apace ; and as it approached, our friends 
greeted us with many a Viva, to which we responded as 
heartily. Then the two canoes joined company and we 
went on together, the guitar sometimes being taken into 
one canoe and sometimes into the other, while Brazilian and 
Indian songs followed each other. Anything more national, 
more completely imbued with tropical coloring and charac- 
ter than this evening scene on the lake, can hardly be 
conceived. When we reached the landing, the gold and 
