182 A JOURNEY IN BRAZIL. 



stands, like that, on the slope of a hill just above the shore, 

 with the forest about it. But it lacks the wide porch and 

 the open working-room which made the other house so 

 picturesque. Mosquitoes are plentiful, and at nightfall 

 the house is closed and a pan of turf burned before the 

 door to drive them away. Our host and hostess, by name 

 Jose* Antonio Maia and Maria Joanna Maia, do what they 

 can, however, to make us comfortable, and the children as 

 well as the parents show that natural courtesy which has 

 struck us so much among these Indians. The children are 

 constantly bringing me flowers and such little gifts as they 

 have it in their power to bestow, especially the painted cups 

 which the Indians make from the fruit of the Crescentia, and 

 use as drinking-cups, basins, and the like. One sees num- 

 bers of them in all the Indian houses along the Amazons. 

 My books and writing seem to interest them very much, and 

 while I was reading at the window of my room this morning, 

 the father and mother came up, and, after watching me a 

 few minutes in silence, the father asked me, if I had any 

 leaves out of some old book which was useless to' me, or 

 even a part of any old newspaper, to leave it with him when 

 I went away. Once, he said, he had known how to read a 

 little, and he seemed to think if he had something to prac- 

 tise upon, he might recover the lost art. His face fell when 

 I told him all my books were English : it was a bucket 

 of cold water to his literary ambition. Then he added, 

 that one of his little boys was very bright, and he was 

 sure he could learn, if he had the means of sending him 

 to school. When I told him that I lived in a country 

 where a good education was freely given to the child of 

 every poor man, he said if the " branca ' did not live so 

 far away, he would ask her to take his daughter with her, 



