THE TREES OF MATTO GROSSO 
of the top branches seemed still alive and had leaves. 
Again, even when quite sound, those trees were extremely 
anaemic and soft, quite watery inside, and could be cut 
almost as easily as celery. 
This does not mean that all the trees of Brazil were 
worthless. No, indeed. These remarks apply merely to 
that particular portion of Brazil in wdiich I was then 
travelling — where, barring the burity palms in the moist 
lands and marshes, the trees were mostly rickety and 
dwarfed, with mouldy barks, malformed limbs, and scanty 
leaves. That is why, when we came to the healthy mass of 
burity palms and the young grass, one felt just the same 
as when, after having been through a hospital, one emerges 
into the fresh air among healthy people. 
That night we encamped on the heavenly meadow. 
We felt we had reached Paradise. For the first time great 
flocks of parrots and gorgeously coloured macaws played 
about and enlivened the air with their shrill whistles and 
shrieks, and flew over the palms, gently swung to and 
fro by the wind. Then innumerable colibris — the tiny 
humming-birds, of marvellous iridescent, metallic tints — 
sucked from one or another flower while still flying. In¬ 
deed, that spot seemed the rendezvous of all the animals 
of that region. There you found onpas (jaguar), anta (a 
large pachyderm), the Tapirus Americanus, the tamandua 
bandeira, with its worm-like tongue (or Myrmecophaga 
jubata ), and plenty of veado (Cervus elaphus) . The 
footmarks of all those animals were innumerable near the 
water. 
The man I had left behind in order to make a further 
attempt at recovering the lost horse arrived that evening, 
his search having been unsuccessful. Undoubtedly the 
horse had been stolen. 
Although the place where we had made camp was a 
regular paradise to look at —in the daytime — it might 
have been compared to warmer regions at night. Mos- 
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