272 



A JOURNEY IN BEAZIL. 



and blackened trunks standing out of the lake like ruins. 

 We did not go very fast nor very far, for our amateur 

 boatmen found the evening warm, and their rowing was 

 rather play than work ; they stopped, too, every now and 

 then, to get a shot at a white heron or to shoot into a flock 

 of parroquets or ciganas, whereby they wasted a good deal 

 of powder to no effect. As we turned to come back we 

 were met by one of the prettiest sights I have ever seen. 

 The Indian women, having finished their dinner, had taken 

 the little two-masted canoe, dressed with flags, which had 

 been prepared for the President's reception, and had come 

 out to meet us. They had the music on board and there 

 were two or three men in the boat ; but the women were 

 some twelve or fifteen in number, and seemed, like genuine 

 Amazons, to have taken things into their own hands. They 

 were rowing with a will ; and as the canoe drew near, with 

 music playing and flags flying, the purple lake, dyed in the 

 sunset and smooth as a mirror, gave back the picture. 

 Every tawny figure at the oars, every flutter of the crim- 

 son and blue streamers, every fold of the green and yellow 

 national flag at the prow, was as distinct below the surface as 

 above it. The fairy boat — for so it looked — floating be- 

 tween glowing sky and water, and seeming to borrow color 

 from both, came on apace ; and as it approached, our friends 

 greeted us with many a Viva, to which we responded as 

 heartily. Then the two canoes joined company and we 

 went on together, the guitar sometimes being taken into 

 one canoe and sometimes into the other, while Brazilian and 

 Indian songs followed each other. Anything more national, 

 more completely imbued with tropical coloring and charac- 

 ter than this evening scene on the lake, can hardly be 

 conceived. When we reached the landing, the gold and 



