Cuap. IX. SENHOR CYPRIANO’S HOUSEHOLD. 223 
right place by the crowing of cocks. On shouting for a montaria an 
Indian boy made his appearance, guiding one through the gloomy 
thickets ; but he was so alarmed, I suppose, at the apparition of a 
strange-looking white man in spectacles bawling from the prow of the 
vessel, that he shot back quickly into the bushes. He returned when 
Manoel spoke, and we went ashore; the montaria winding along a 
gloomy overshadowed water-path, made by cutting away the lower 
branches and underwood. ‘The foot-road to the houses was a narrow, 
sandy alley, bordered by trees of stupendous height, overrun with 
creepers, and having an unusual number of long air-roots dangling from 
the epiphytes on their branches. 
After passing one low smoky little hut, half-buried in foliage, the path 
branched off in various directions, and, the boy having left us, we took 
the wrong turn. We were brought to a stand soon after by the barking 
of dogs ; and on shouting, as is customary on approaching a dwelling, 
“OQ da casa!” (Oh of the house !) a dark-skinned native, a Cafuzo, with 
a most unpleasant expression of countenance, came forth through the 
tangled maze of bushes, armed with a long knife, with which he 
pretended to be whittling a stick. He directed us to the house of 
Cypriano, which was about a mile distant along another forest road. 
The circumstance of the Cafuzo coming out armed to receive visitors 
very much astonished my companions, who talked it over at every place 
we visited for several days afterwards ; the freest and most unsuspecting 
welcome in these retired places being always counted upon by strangers. 
But, as Manoel remarked, the fellow may have been one of the un- 
pardoned rebel leaders who had settled here after the recapture of 
Santarem in 1836, and lived in fear of being enquired for by the 
authorities of Santarem. After all our trouble we found Cypriano 
absent from home. His house was a large one, and full of people, old 
and young, women and children, all of whom were Indians or mamelucos. 
Several smaller huts surrounded the large dwelling, besides extensive 
open sheds containing mandioca ovens and rude wooden mills for 
grinding sugar-cane to make molasses. All the buildings were em- 
bosomed in trees ; it would be scarcely possible to find a more retired 
nook, and an air of contentment was spread over the whole establish- 
ment. Cypriano’s wife, a good-looking mameluco girl, was superintending 
the packing of farinha. Two or three old women, seated on mats, 
were making baskets with narrow strips of bark from the leaf-stalks of 
palms, whilst others were occupied lining them with the broad leaves 
of a species of maranta, and filling them afterwards with farinha, which 
was previously measured in a rude square vessel. It appeared that 
Senhor Cypriano was a large producer of the article, selling 300 baskets 
(sixty pounds’ weight each) annually to Santarem traders. I was sorry 
we were unable to see him, but it was useless waiting, as we were told 
all the men were at present occupied in “ pucherums,” and he would be 
unable to give me the assistance I required. We returned to the canoe 
in the evening, and, after moving out into the river, anchored and slept. 
June 20th.—We had a light baffling wind off shore all day on the 
2oth, and made but fourteen or fifteen miles by 6 p.m.; when, the wind 
failing us, we anchored at the mouth of a narrow channel, called 
