10 
THE GOLDEN RIVER. 
The line of booths looked gay and 
picturesque, fretted with the sunlight that 
filtered through the branches. 
The bright dresses of the 
women, the glow of the 
heaped oranges, and the 
warm madder of mandioca 
roots, made an attractive 
picture. The air was 
so still that the blue 
smoke of the tiny 
wood fires, on 
which the 
mate kettles 
were kept 
hot, never 
wavered: 
and, outside the small oasis of shade, the 
atmosphere danced and shimmered with heat. 
On our way back we passed the ramshackle 
little huts on the outskirts of the town. 
Perched on wooden legs they looked like dilapi¬ 
dated bathing machines, and quite unfit for 
human habitation, even in a country of blazing 
sunshine and few wants. The doors stood wide 
open, so that the poor interiors could be clearly 
seen. A bed with mosquito curtains, a gramo¬ 
phone, a chair or two, and a few pots and pans, 
comprised the furniture. The more wealthy 
boasted a sewing machine as well as a gramo¬ 
phone. Here dwell the sirens on whom the 
