BARCELLOS. 
199 
1850.] 
The two shores of the river had only been seen for a 
moment. Again we plunged into a sea of islands, and 
channels opening among them often stretched out to the 
horizon. Sometimes a distant shore continued for days 
unbroken, but was at last found to be but a far-stretch- 
ing island. All was now again alluvial soil, and we 
sometimes had a difficulty in finding dry land to cook 
our meals on. In a few days more we reached Barcellos, 
once the capital of the Rio Negro, but now depopulated 
and almost deserted. On the shore lie several blocks of 
marble, brought from Portugal for some public buildings 
which were never erected. The lines of the old streets 
are now paths through a jungle, where orange and other 
fruit-trees are mingled with cassias and tall tropical weeds. 
The houses that remain are mostly ruinous mud-huts, 
with here and there one more neatly finished and white- 
washed. 
We called on an old Italian, who has the reputation 
of being rich, but a great miser. He was however merry 
enough. He gave us coffee sweetened with molasses, 
and pressed us to stay breakfast with him, — which meal 
was served in an old storehouse filled with cables, an- 
chors, cordage, casks, and demijohns. We had silver 
forks and spoons, and a dirty towel for a tablecloth, and 
raw spirits and tough curassow-bird was the fare placed 
upon it. He however gave us a basket of oranges to 
take to the canoe. 
In a day or two more we passed another decayed village, 
called Cabuqueno. About Barcellos had first appeared 
a very pretty little palm growing at the water’s edge, a 
new species of Mauritia, which was afterwards abundant 
