228 VOYAGE UP THE, TAPAJOS. Cuap. IX. 
and females takes place at the end of the rainy season (June), when the 
swarms are blown into the river by squalls of wind, and subsequently 
cast ashore by the waves. I was told that this wholesale destruction 
of ant-life takes place annually, and that the same compact heap of dead 
bodies, which I saw only in part, extends along the banks of the river 
for twelve or fifteen miles. . 
The forest behind Aveyros yielded me little except insects, but in 
these it was very rich. It is not too dense, and broad sunny paths 
skirted by luxuriant beds of Lycopodiums, which form attractive sporting 
places for insects, extend from the village to a swampy hollow or ygap6, 
which lies about a mile inland. Of butterflies alone I enumerated fully 
300 species, captured or seen in the course of forty days, within a half- 
hour’s walk of the village. This is a greater number than is found in 
the whole of Europe. The only monkey I observed was a Callithrix 
moloch—one of the kinds called by the Indians Whaidpu-sai. It is a 
moderately sized species, clothed with long brown hair, and having hands 
of a whitish hue. Although nearly allied to the Cebi, it has none of 
their restless vivacity, but is a dull listless animal. It goes in small 
flocks of five or six individuals, running along the main boughs of the 
trees. One of the specimens which I obtained here was caught ona 
low fruit-tree at the back of our house, at sunrise one morning. This 
was the only instance of a monkey being captured in such a position 
that I ever heard of. As the tree was isolated, it must have descended 
to the ground from the neighbouring forest, and walked some distance 
to get at it. The species is sometimes kept in a tame state by the 
natives: it does not make a very amusing pet, and survives captivity 
only a short time. 
I heard that the white Cebus, the Caiardra branca, a kind of monkey 
I had not yet seen, and wished very much to obtain, inhabited the 
forests on the opposite side of the river; so one day, on an opportunity 
being afforded by our host going over in a large boat, I crossed to go in 
search of it. We were about twenty persons in all, and the boat was an 
old rickety affair, with the gaping seams rudely stuffed with tow and 
pitch. In addition to the human freight we took three sheep with us, 
which Captain Antonio had just received from Santarem, and was going 
to add to his new cattle farm on the other side. Ten Indian paddlers 
carried us quickly across. The breadth of the river could not be less 
than three miles, and the current was scarcely perceptible. When a 
boat has to cross the main Amazons, it is obliged to ascend along the 
banks for half a mile or more to allow for drifting by the current ; in this 
lower part of the Tapajos this is not necessary. When about half-way 
the sheep, in moving about, kicked a hole in the bottom of the boat. 
The passengers took the matter very coolly, although the water spouted 
up alarmingly, and I thought we should inevitably be swamped. Captain 
Antonio took off his socks to stop the leak, inviting me and the Juiz de 
Paz, who was one of the party, to do the same, whilst two Indians baled 
out the water with large cuyas. We thus managed to keep afloat until 
we reached our destination, when the men patched up the leak for our 
return journey. 
The landing-place lay a short distance within the mouth of a shady 
