A WITCH IN THE FOREST 271 



still hours of mid -day scampering with great clatter over 

 the dead leaves, apparently in chase of each other. The 

 fat of this bulky lizard is much prized by the natives, 

 who apply it as a poultice to draw palm spines or even 

 grains of shot from the flesh. Other lizards of repulsive 

 aspect, about three feet in length when full grown, splashed 

 about and swam in the water ; sometimes emerging to 

 crawl into hollow trees on the banks of the stream, where 

 I once found a female and a nest of eggs. The lazy 

 flapping flight of large blue and black morpho butterflies 

 high in the air, the hum of insects, and many inanimate 

 sounds, contributed their share to the total impression 

 this strange solitude produced. Heavy fruits from the 

 crowns of trees which were mingled together at a giddy 

 height overhead, fell now and then with a startling 

 * plop ' into the water. The breeze, not felt below, 

 stirred in the topmost branches, setting the twisted and 

 looped sipos in motion, which creaked and groaned in a 

 great variety of notes. To these noises were added the 

 monotonous ripple of the brook, which had its little 

 cascade at every score or two yards of its course. 



We frequently fell in with an old Indian woman, 

 named Cecilia, who had a small clearing in the woods. 

 She had the reputation of being a witch (feiticeira), and 

 I found, on talking with her, that she prided herself on 

 her knowledge of the black art. Her slightly curled 

 hair showed that she was not a pure-blood Indian : I 

 was told her father was a dark mulatto. She was always 

 very civil to our party ; showing us the best paths, ex- 

 plaining the virtues and uses of diflerent plants, and so 

 forth. I was much amused at the accounts she gave of 

 the place. Her solitary life and the gloom of the woods 

 seemed to have filled her with superstitious fancies. She 

 said gold was contained in the bed of the brook, and that 

 the murmur of the water over the little cascades was the 

 voice of the ' water-mother * revealing the hidden trea- 

 sure. A narrow pass between two hill-sides was the 

 portao or gate, and all within, along the wooded banks 

 of the stream, was enchanted ground. The hill under- 

 neath which we were encamped was the enchanter's 

 abode, and she gravely told us she often had long con- 

 versations with him. These myths were of her own 

 invention, and in the same way an endless number of 

 other similar ones have originated in the childish imagi- 



