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PARA 



out poor in terrestrial mammals, and the species are of 

 small size ; they do not, therefore, form a conspicuous 

 feature in its forests. The huntsman would be disap- 

 pointed who expected to find here flocks of animals similar 

 to the buffalo herds of North America, or the swarms of 

 antelopes and herds of ponderous pachyderms of Southern 

 Africa. The largest and most interesting portion of the 

 Brazilian mammal fauna is arboreal in its habits ; this 

 feature of the animal denizens of these forests I have al- 

 ready alluded to. The most intensely arboreal animals 

 in the world are the South American monkeys of the 

 family Cebidae, many of which have a fifth hand for climb- 

 ing in their prehensile tails, adapted for this function by 

 their strong muscular development, and the naked palms 

 under their tips. This seems to teach us that the South 

 American fauna has been slowly adapted to a forest life, 

 and, therefore, that extensive forests must have always 

 existed since the region was first peopled by mammalia. 

 But to this subject, and to the natural history of the 

 monkeys, of which thirty-eight species inhabit the Amazon 

 region, I shall have to return. 



We often read, in books of travels, of the silence and 

 gloom of the Brazilian forests. They are realities, and 

 the impression deepens on a longer acquaintance. The 

 few sounds of birds are of that pensive or mysterious 

 character which intensifies the feeling of solitude rather 

 than imparts a sense of life and cheerfulness. Some- 

 times, in the midst of the stillness, a sudden yell or scream 

 will startle one ; this comes from some defenceless fruit- 

 eating animal, which is pounced upon by a tiger-cat or 

 stealthy boa-constrictor. Morning and evening the 

 howling monkeys make a most fearful and harrowing 

 noise, under which it is difficult to keep up one's buoyancy 

 of spirit. The feeling of inhospitable wildness which the 

 forest is calculated to inspire, is increased tenfold under 

 this fearful uproar. Often, even in the still hours of 

 midday, a sudden crash will be heard resounding afar 

 through the wilderness, as some great bough or entire 

 tree falls to the ground. There are, besides, many sounds 

 which it is impossible to account for. I found the natives 

 generally as much at a loss in this respect as myself. 

 Sometimes a sound is heard like the clang of an iron bar 

 against a hard, hollow tree, or a piercing cry rends the air ; 

 these are not repeated, and the succeeding silence tends to 



