Leaving ParÁ.—Farewell to the Amazons.—Ease of Travelling on the Amazons.—Rough Passage.—Arrival at CearÁ.—Difficulty of Landing.—Aspect of the Town.—Rainy Season.—Consequent Sickliness.—Our Purpose in stopping at CearÁ.—Report of Dr. Felice about Moraines.—Preparations for Journey into the Interior.—Difficulties and Delays in getting off.—On the Way.—Night at Arancho.—Bad Roads.—Carnauba Palm.—Arrival at Monguba.—Kind Reception by Senhor Franklin de Lima.—Geology of the Region.—Evening Games and Amusements.—Pacatuba.—Traces of ancient Glaciers.—Serra of Aratanha.—Climb up the Serra.—Hospitality of Senhor da Costa.—Picturesque Views.—The Sertao.—Drought and Rains.—Epidemics.—Return to Monguba.—Detained by extraordinary Rains.—Return to CearÁ.—Overflowed Roads.—Difficulty of fording.—Arrival at CearÁ.—Liberality of the President of the Province toward the Expedition.

April 2d.—CearÁ. We left ParÁ on the 26th of March, in the evening, feeling for the first time that we were indeed bidding good by to the Amazons. Our pleasant voyages on its yellow waters, our canoe excursions on its picturesque lakes and igarapÉs, our lingerings in its palm-thatched cottages, belonged to the past; except in memory, our Amazonian travels were over. When we entered upon them, what vague anticipations, what visions of a new and interesting life, not, as we supposed, without its dangers and anxieties, were before us. So little is known, even in Brazil, of the Amazons, that we could obtain only very meagre and, usually, rather discouraging information concerning our projected journey. In Rio, if you say you are going to ascend their great river, your Brazilian friends look at you with compassionate wonder. You are threatened with sickness, with intolerable heat, with the absence of any nourishing food or suitable lodgings, with mosquitoes, with JacarÉs and wild Indians. If you consult a physician, he gives you a good supply of quinine, and tells you to take a dose every other day as a preventive against fever and chills; so that if you escape intermittent fever you are at least sure of being poisoned by a remedy which, if administered incautiously, may cause a disease worse than the one it cures. It will take perhaps from the excitement and novelty of Amazonian travelling to know that the journey from ParÁ to Tabatinga may be made with as much ease as a reasonable traveller has a right to expect, though of course not without some privations, and also with no more exposure to sickness than the traveller incurs in any hot climate. The perils and adventures which attended the voyages of Spix and Martius, or even of more recent travellers, like Castelnau, Bates, and Wallace, are no longer to be found on the main course of the Amazons, though they are met at every step on its great affluents. On the Tocantins, on the Madeira, on the Purus, on the Rio Negro, the Trombetas, or any of the large tributaries, the traveller must still work his way slowly up in a canoe, scorched by the sun or drenched by the rain; sleeping on the beach, hearing the cries of the wild animals in the woods around him, and waking perhaps in the morning, to find the tracks of a tiger in unpleasant proximity to his hammock. But along the course of the Amazons itself, these days of romantic adventure and hair-breadth escapes are over; the wild beasts of the forest have disappeared before the puff of the engine; the canoe and the encampment on the beach at night have given place to the prosaic conveniences of the steamboat. It is no doubt true of the Amazons, as of other tropical regions, that a long residence may reduce the vigor of the constitution, and perhaps make one more liable to certain diseases; but during our journey of eight months none of our large company suffered from any serious indisposition connected with the climate, nor did we see in any of our wanderings as many indications of intermittent fever as are to be met constantly on our Western rivers. The voyage on the Amazons proper has now become accessible to all who are willing to endure heat and mosquitoes for the sake of seeing the greatest river in the world, and the magnificent tropical vegetation along its shores. The best season for the journey is from the close of June to the middle of November,—July, August, September, and October being the four driest months of the year, and the most salubrious throughout that region.

We had a rough and boisterous passage from ParÁ to CearÁ, with unceasing rain, in consequence of which the decks were constantly wet. Indeed, the cabins were not free from water, and it was only by frequent bailing that the floor of our state-room was kept tolerably dry. At Maranham we had the relief of a night on shore; and Mr. Agassiz and Major Coutinho profited by the occasion the following morning to examine the geology of the coast more carefully than they had formerly done. They found the structure identical with that of the Amazonian Valley, except that the formations were more worn down and disturbed. We arrived before CearÁ at two o’clock on Saturday, March 31st, expecting to go on shore at once; but the sea ran high, the tide was unfavorable, and during the day not even a “jangada,” those singular rafts that here take the place of boats, ventured out to our steamer as she lay rocking in the surf. CearÁ has no harbor, and the sea drives in with fearful violence on the long sand-beach fronting the town, making it impossible, at certain states of the tide and in stormy weather, for any boat to land, unless it be one of these jangadas (catamarans), over which the waves break without swamping them. At about nine o’clock in the evening a custom-house boat came out, and, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour and the rough sea, we determined to go on shore, for we were told that in the morning the tide would be unfavorable, and if the wind continued in the present quarter it might be still more difficult, if not impossible, to land. It was not without some anxiety that I stood waiting my turn to enter the boat; for though at one moment it rose, on the swell of the sea, close to the stair, in the twinkling of an eye it was a couple of yards away. Some presence of mind and agility were needed in order to make the leap just at the right instant; and I was glad to find myself in the boat and not in the water, the chances being about even. As we rode in over the breakers, the boatmen entertained us with so many stories of the difficulty of landing, the frequent accidents, and especially of one which had occurred a few days before when three Englishmen had been drowned, that I began to think reaching the shore must be more perilous than leaving the ship. As we approached the town the scene was not without its picturesque charm. The moon, struggling through gray, watery clouds, threw a fitful light over the long sand-beach, on which the crested waves were driving furiously. A number of laden boats were tossing in the surf, and the roar of the breakers mingled with the cries of the black porters, as they waded breast high through the water, unloading the cargoes and carrying their burdens to the shore on their heads. We were landed much in the same way, the boatmen carrying us over the surf. This is the ordinary mode of embarking or landing passengers; it is but rarely, and at particular states of the tide, that it is possible to disembark at the pier which has been thrown out from the shore. Major Coutinho had written to a friend to engage lodgings for us, and we found a house ready. I was glad to sink into my comfortable hammock, to exchange the pitching and rolling of the steamer for its gentle rocking, to be out of reach of the hungry waves, and yet to hear their distant rush on the shore as I fell asleep.

The next morning was rainy, but in the afternoon it cleared, and toward evening we took a long drive with our host, Dr. Felice. I like the aspect of CearÁ. I like its wide, well-paved, cleanly streets, which are bright with color, for the substantial houses on either side are of many hues. If it chance to be a Sunday or a festa day, every balcony is filled with gayly-dressed girls, while groups of men sit smoking and talking on the sidewalks before the doors. This town has not the stagnant, inanimate look of many Brazilian towns. It tells of movement, life, prosperity.^[104] Beyond the city the streets stretch out into the campos, bordered on its inland side by beautiful serras; the Serra Grande and the Serra de BaturitÉ. In front of the city stretches the broad sand-beach, and the murmur of the surf comes up into the heart of the town. It seems as if, so lying between sea and mountain, CearÁ should be a healthy place, and it is usually so reputed. But at this moment, owing, it is thought, to the unusual continuance of the dry season and the extraordinary violence of the rains, now that they have begun, the town is very sickly. Yellow-fever is prevalent, and there have been a good many deaths from it recently, though it is said not to have assumed the character of an epidemic as yet. Still more fatal is the malignant dysentery, which has been raging both in town and country for the last two months.

We are trying to hasten the arrangements for our inland journey, but do not find it very easy. Mr. Agassiz’s object in stopping here is to satisfy himself by direct investigation of the former existence of glaciers in the serras of this province, and, if possible, to find some traces of the southern lateral moraine, marking the limit of the mass of ice which he supposes to have filled the Amazonian basin in the glacial period. In the Amazonian Valley itself he has seen that all the geological phenomena are connected with the close of the glacial period, with the melting of the ice and the immense freshets consequent upon its disappearance. On leaving the Amazons, the next step in the investigation was to seek the masses of loose materials left by the glacier itself. On arriving here he at once made inquiries to this effect, from a number of persons who have travelled a great deal in the province, and are therefore familiar with its features. The most valuable information he has obtained,—valuable from the fact, that the precision with which it is given shows that it may be relied upon,—is from Dr. Felice. His occupation as land-surveyor has led him to travel a great deal in the region of the Serra Grande. He has made a valuable map of this portion of the province, and he tells Mr. Agassiz that there is a wall of loose materials, boulders, stones, &c., running from east to west for a distance of some sixty leagues from the Rio Aracaty-AssÙ to Bom Jesu, in the Serra Grande. From his account, this wall resembles greatly the “Horsebacks” in Maine, those remarkable ridges accumulated by the ancient glaciers, and running sometimes uninterruptedly for thirty or forty miles. The horsebacks are, however, covered with soil and turf, whereas Dr. Felice describes this wall as rough and bare. Mr. Agassiz has no doubt that this accumulation or dike of loose materials, the position and direction of which corresponds exactly with his conjecture based upon the evidence obtained in the Amazonian Valley, is a portion of the lateral moraine, marking the southeastern limit of the great Amazonian glacier. Unhappily, it is impossible for him to visit it himself, for even could he devote the time necessary for so long a journey in the interior, we are told that at this season the state of the roads makes it almost impossible. He must therefore leave the identification of this colossal moraine to some younger and more fortunate investigator, and content himself with a direct examination of the next link in the chain of evidence, namely, the traces of local glaciers in the serras in the more immediate neighborhood of CearÁ. If the basin of the Amazons was actually filled with ice, all the mountains lying outside of its limits in the neighboring provinces must have had their glaciers also. It is in search of these local glaciers that we undertake our present journey, hoping to reach the Serra of BaturitÉ.

April 6th.—Pacatuba (at the foot of the Serra of Aratanha). After endless delays and difficulties about horses, servants, and other preparations for our journey, we succeeded in getting off on the afternoon of the 3d. The mode of travelling in the interior as well as the character of the people, makes it almost impossible to accomplish any journey with promptness and punctuality. While the preparations for our excursion were going on, neighbors and acquaintances would stroll in to see how things were advancing; one would propose that we should postpone our departure till the day after to-morrow, on account of some trouble about the horses; another that we should wait a week or two for more favorable weather. Evidently it did not occur to any one that it could be of much importance whether we started to-day or to-morrow, or next week or next month. The lotus-eaters in the “land in which it seemed always afternoon” could not have been more happily indifferent to the passage of time. Now this calm superiority to laws obeyed by the rest of mankind, this ignoring of the great dictum “tempus fugit,” is rather exasperating to a man who has only the fortnight intervening between two steamers in which to accomplish his journey, and knows the time to be all too short for the objects he has in view. These habits of procrastination are much less marked in those parts of Brazil where railroad and steam travel have been introduced; though it cannot be said that promptness and despatch are anywhere familiar qualities in this country. Our delays in this particular instance were in no way owing to any want of interest in our plans; on the contrary, we met here, as everywhere, the most cordial sympathy with the objects of the expedition, and the President of the province, as well as other persons, were ready to give every assistance in their power. But a stranger cannot of course expect the habits of the people to be changed to suit his convenience, and we did but share in the general slowness of movement. However, we were at last on the way; our party consisting of Major Coutinho, Senhor Pompeo, Government Engineer of the province, whom the President had kindly detailed to accompany us, Mr. Agassiz, and myself. We had a servant, also provided by the President, one of his guard, and two men, with a couple of pack-mules for baggage and provisions. We started so late in the day, that our first ride was but a league or so out of the town; short as it was, however, we did not escape several showers, always to be expected at this season. Yet the ride was pleasant; a smell as of huckleberry meadows came from the low growth of shrubs covering the fields for miles around, and the very earth was fragrant from the rain. As we left the city, low clouds, full of distant showers, hung over the serras, and gave them a sombre beauty, more impressive, if less cheerful, than their sunshine look. At six o’clock we reached Arancho, a village where we were to pass the night. As we rode in at dusk, it seemed to me only a little cluster of low mud-houses; but I found, by daylight, there were one or two buildings of more pretentious character. We stopped at the end of the principal street, before the venda (village inn). At the door, which opened across the middle, allowing its lower half to serve as a sort of gate, stood the host, little expecting guests on this dark, rainy night. He was a fat old man, with a head as round as a bullet, covered with very short white curly hair, and a face beaming with good nature, but reddened also by many potations. He was dressed in white cotton drawers with a shirt hanging loose over them; his feet were stockingless, but he had on a pair of the wooden-soled slippers, down at heel, of which you hear the “clack, clack” in every town and village during the rainy season. He opened the gate and admitted us into a small room furnished with a hammock, a sofa, and a few chairs, the mud walls adorned with some coarse prints, of which the old gentleman seemed very proud. He said if we could be satisfied with such accommodation as he had, the gentlemen to sling their hammocks in the sitting-room with him, the Senhora to sleep with his wife and the children in the only other room he had to offer, he should be happy to receive us. I confess that the prospect was not encouraging; but I was prepared to meet with inconveniences, knowing that even a short journey into the interior involved discomforts, and when the hostess presently entered and made me heartily welcome to a corner of her apartment, I thanked her with such cordiality as I could muster. She was many years younger than her husband, and still very handsome, with an Oriental kind of beauty, rather enhanced by her dress. She wore a red muslin wrapper, somewhat the worse for wear, but still brilliant in color; and her long black hair hung loose and unbraided over her shoulders. An hour or two later supper was announced. We had brought the greater part of it with us from the city, but we invited all the family to sup with us, according to the fashion of the country. The old gentleman completed his toilet by adding to it a gaudy-flowered cotton dressing-gown, and seating himself at the table, contemplated the roast-chickens and claret with no little satisfaction. From the appearance of things, such a meal must have been a rarity in his house. The mud floor of the kitchen where we supped was sloppy, and its leaky roof and broken walls were but dimly lighted by the coarse guttering candles made from the Carnauba palm. I presently heard a loud gobbling close by my side; and, looking down, saw by the half-light a black pig feeding at a little table with the two children, assisted also by the dog and the cat. Supper over, I proposed to go to the common sleeping apartment, preferring to be in advance of my companions. It was a little room, some ten feet square, behind the one where we had been received, and without any window. This is not, however, so great an objection here, where the roofs are so open that a great deal of air comes from above. Once ensconced in my hammock I began to watch the arrival of my room-mates with some curiosity. First entered a young girl and her little sister, who stowed themselves away in one of the beds; then came the servant-maid and hung herself up in her hammock in a corner; and lastly arrived the landlady, who took possession of the other bed, and completed the charms of the scene by lighting her pipe to have a quiet smoke before she went to sleep. I cannot say the situation was favorable to rest; the heavy showers which rattled on the tiles throughout the night penetrated the leaky roof, and, however I changed my position in the hammock, it rained into my face; fleas were abundant; the silence was occasionally broken by the crying of the children, or the grunting of the pig at the door, and for my part I was very glad when five o’clock called us all to get up, our plan being to start at six and ride three leagues before breakfast. However, on a journey of this kind, it is one thing to intend going anywhere at a particular time and quite another to accomplish it. When we met at six o’clock in readiness for our journey, two of the horses were not to be found; they had strayed away during the night. Though accidents of this kind are a constant subject of complaint, it does not seem to occur to any one to secure the horses for the night; it is indeed far easier to let them roam about and provide for themselves. The servants were sent to look for them, and we sat waiting, and losing the best hours of the morning, till, in their own good time, men and beasts reappeared. We were at last on the road at half past eight o’clock; but, unhappily, it was just during our two hours of inaction that the rain, which had been pouring in torrents all night, had ceased for a time. We had scarcely started when it began again, and accompanied us for a great part of the way on our long three leagues’ ride. We came now for the first time on the Carnauba palm (Copernicia cerifera), so invaluable for its many useful properties. It furnishes an admirable timber, strong and durable, from which the rafters of all the houses in this region are made; it yields a wax which, if the process of refining and bleaching it were understood, would make an excellent candle, and which, as it is, is used for light throughout the province; from its silky fibre very strong thread and cordage are manufactured; the heart of the leaves, when cooked, makes an excellent vegetable, resembling delicate cabbage; and, finally, it provides a very nourishing fodder for cattle. It is a saying in the province of CearÁ, that where the Carnauba palm abounds a man has all he needs for himself and his horse. The stem is tall, and the leaves so arranged around the summit as to form a close spherical crown, entirely unlike that of any other palm.^[105]

If we had to lament the rain, we were fortunate in not having the sun on our journey, for the forest is low and affords but little shade. The road was in a terrible condition from the long-continued rains, and though there are no rivers of any importance between the town and the Serra of Monguba, to which we were bound, yet in several places the little streams were swollen to a considerable depth; and, owing to the broken condition of the bottom, full of holes and deep ruts, they were by no means easy to ford. After a fatiguing ride of four hours, during which we inquired, two or three times, how far we had still to go, and always received the same answer, “uma legua,” that league never seeming to diminish with our advance, we were delighted to find ourselves at the little bridle-path which turned off from the main road and led us to the fazenda of Senhor Franklin de Lima. The traveller is always welcome who asks hospitality at a Brazilian country house, but Major Coutinho had already stayed at this fazenda on previous journeys, and we shared the welcome given to him as an old friend. The hospitality of our excellent hosts repaid us for all the fatigues of our journey, and our luggage being still on the road, their kindness supplied the defects of our toilet, which was in a lamentable condition after splashing through muddy water two or three feet deep. Mr. Agassiz, however, could not spare time to rest; we had followed a morainic soil for a great part of our journey, had passed many boulders on the road, and he was anxious to examine the Serra of Monguba, on the slope of which Senhor Franklin has his coffee plantation, and at the foot of which his house stands. He was, therefore, either on foot or on horseback the greater part of this day and the following one, examining the geological structure of the mountain, and satisfying himself that, here too, all the valleys have had their glaciers, and that these valleys have brought down from the hillsides into the plains boulders, pebbles, and dÉbris of all sorts. In this pleasant home, in the midst of the bright, intelligent circle composing the family of Senhor Franklin, we passed two days. After breakfast we dispersed to our various occupations, the gentlemen being engaged in excursions in the neighborhood; the evening brought us together again, and was enlivened with music, dancing, and games. The Brazilians are fond of games, and play them with much wit and animation. One of their favorite games is called “the market of saints”; it is very amusing when there are two or three bright people to act the prominent parts. One person performs the salesman, another the padre who comes to purchase a saint for his chapel; the company enact the saints, covering their faces with their handkerchiefs, and remaining as motionless as possible. The salesman brings in the padre, and, taking him from one to another in turn, describes all their extraordinary miraculous qualities, their wonderful lives and pious deaths. After a few introductory remarks on the subject of the purchase, the handkerchief is drawn off, and if the saint keeps his countenance and remains immovable during all the ridiculous things that are said about him, he comes off scot free; but if he laughs he is subject to a forfeit. There are indeed few who stand the test; for if the salesman has any tact in the game, he knows how to seize upon any funny incident or characteristic quality connected with the individual, and give it prominence. Perhaps the reader, knowing something of our hunt for glaciers, may guess this saint, Major Coutinho being salesman. “This, Senhor Padre, is rather a stout saint, but still of most pious disposition, and, O meu Padre! a wonderful worker of miracles; he can fill these valleys with ice, he covers the mountains with snow in the hottest days, he brings the stones from the top of the serra to the bottom, he finds animals in the bowels of the earth and brings out their bones.” “Ah!” replies the padre, “a wonderful saint, truly! such an one as I need for my chapel; let me look upon his face.” Handkerchief withdrawn, and the saint in question of course loses his forfeit. Yesterday, after breakfast, we left our pleasant friends and came on to the little village of Pacatuba, a league farther inland, and most picturesquely situated at the foot of the Serra of Aratanha. Here we are fortunate in finding an empty “sobrada” (two-storied house), in which we shall establish ourselves for the two or three days we mean to spend in this neighborhood. We have had it swept out, have hung our hammocks in the vacant rooms, which, with the exception of a straw sofa and a few chairs, are innocent of furniture; and if we find it rather forlorn within doors, we have at least beautiful views from all our windows.

April 7th.—Pacatuba. We have already ascertained that our exploration must be confined to the serras in the midst of which we find ourselves; for every one tells us that, in the present state of the roads, it would be impossible to go to BaturitÉ and return in the short time we have at our disposal. However, Mr. Agassiz is not disappointed; for he says a farther journey could only give him glacial phenomena on a larger scale, which he finds here immediately about him in the greatest perfection. On this very Serra of Aratanha, at the foot of which we happen to have taken up our quarters, the glacial phenomena are as legible as in any of the valleys of Maine, or in those of the mountains of Cumberland in England. It had evidently a local glacier, formed by the meeting of two arms, which descended from two depressions spreading right and left on the upper part of the serra, and joining below in the main valley. A large part of the medial moraine formed by the meeting of these two arms can still be traced in the central valley. One of the lateral moraines is perfectly preserved, the village road cutting through it; while the village itself is built just within the terminal moraine, which is thrown up in a long ridge in front of it. It is a curious fact that, in the centre of the medial moraine, formed by a little mountain stream making its way through the ridge of rocks and boulders, is a delicious bathing pool, overgrown by orange-trees and palms. As Mr. Agassiz came down from the serra yesterday, heated with his hunt after glaciers under a tropical sun, he stopped to bathe in this pool. He said, as he enjoyed its refreshing coolness, he could not but be struck with the contrast between the origin of this basin and the vegetation which now surrounds it; to say nothing of the odd coincidence that he, a naturalist of the nineteenth century, should be bathing under the shade of palms and orange-trees on the very spot where he sought and found the evidence of a cold so intense that it heaped the mountains with ice.

April 9th.—Yesterday, at seven o’clock in the morning, we left Pacatuba for the house of Senhor da Costa, lying half-way up the serra, at a height of about eight hundred feet above the level of the sea. The path up the serra is wild and picturesque, lined with immense boulders, and shaded with large trees; while here and there a little cascade comes brawling down over the rocks. In this climate, a road so broken by boulders is especially beautiful, on account of the luxuriance of the vegetation. Exquisite vines, shrubs, and even trees spring up wherever they can find the least soil in which to strike root; and many of these isolated rocks are gardens in themselves. One immense boulder in the path is split, and from its centre springs a palm all draperied in vines. Of the native trees, the Genipapu (Genipa braziliensis), the Imbauba (Cecropia), the Carnauba (Copernicia cerifera), the CatolÉ (Attalea humilis), and the Pao d’Arco (Tecoma speciosa) are most prominent. The latter is so named because the Indians make their bows from its tough, elastic wood. Though not native to the soil, bananas, cocoa-nut palms, orange-trees, as well as cotton and coffee shrubs, are abundant. The cultivation of coffee, which thrives admirably on the slopes of all the serras, is the great source of prosperity here; but, at least in the sitios we have visited, it is difficult to judge of the extent of the plantations on account of the irregular manner of planting. The crops are, however, very large, and the coffee superior in quality. I found the climb up the precipitous serra exceedingly fatiguing. The people who live on the mountain come and go constantly, even with their children, on horseback; but as our horses were from the city, and unaccustomed to mountain paths, we had preferred ascending on foot, especially as the rains had made the road more rough and broken than usual. A mountain scramble in this country is very different from the same thing in temperate climates. The least exertion induces excessive perspiration; and if, when thus drenched to the skin, you stop to rest, you are chilled by the slightest breeze. I was very glad when, after about an hour’s climbing, we reached the sitio of Senhor da Costa, on the slope of the serra. Donna Maria laughed at me for coming up on foot, and said I should have mounted like a man, as she does, and ascended the serra on horseback. Indeed, I think a lady who is obliged to make a journey in the interior of Brazil should dress Bloomer-fashion and mount en cavalier. A lady’s seat on horseback is too insecure for dangerous mountain roads, or for fording streams; and her long skirt is another inconvenience.

Nothing can be more picturesque than the situation of this sitio. It is surrounded by magnificent masses of rock, which seem embedded in the forest, as it were; and by its side a cascade comes leaping down through the trees, so hidden by them that, though you hear the voice of the water constantly, you only see its glimmer here and there among the green foliage. The house itself stands on a fine specimen of moraine, flanked on one side by a bank of red morainic soil, overtopped by boulders. It is so built in among huge masses of rock that its walls seem half natural. At the foot of the mountain spreads the Sertao, stretching level for the most part to the ocean, though broken here and there by billowy hills rising isolated from its surface. Beyond it many miles away may be seen the yellow lines of the sand-dunes on the shore, and the white glitter of the sea. The Sertao (desert) is beautifully green now, and spreads out like a verdant prairie below. But in the dry season it justifies its name and becomes a very desert indeed, being so parched that all vegetation is destroyed. The drought is so great during eight months of the year, that the country people living in the Sertao are often in danger of famine from the drying up of all the crops.^[106] After this long dry season the rains often set in with terrible violence, and it is at this time that epidemics are developed, such as prevail now. It rains day and night for weeks at a time, till everything is penetrated with dampness; and when the hot sun comes out upon the soaked and steaming earth, it is far more injurious than in the dry season. One cannot wonder at the prevailing sickness, for the humidity seems to permeate everything with subtle power. The walls, the floors, the very furniture,—your hammock at night and your clothes in the morning,—feel damp and have a sort of clammy chill; and the sun comes out with such fitful gleams, that, intense as is its heat while it lasts, nothing becomes thoroughly dried.

Toward nightfall we went to see the sunset from a boulder of enormous size, which seems to have stopped inexplicably on the steep descent. It juts out from the mountain-side, and commands even a more extensive view than the house above. I could not help thinking, as we stood on the edge of this immense mass of rock, that, as it seemed to have stopped for no particular reason, it might start again at any minute, and bring one to the bottom of the serra with unpleasant rapidity.

April 10th.—Yesterday afternoon we returned to Pacatuba, descending the serra much more rapidly and with far less fatigue than we had ascended. We would gladly have availed ourselves longer of the pleasant hospitality of our hosts, who very graciously urged us to stay; but time is precious, and we are anxious not to miss the next steamer. Donna Maria’s kindness followed us down the mountain, however, for scarcely had we reached the house before an excellent dinner—stewed fowls, beef, vegetables, etc.—arrived, borne on the heads of two negroes. When I saw the load these men had brought so steadily down the same path over which I had come rolling, pitching, tumbling, sliding,—any way, in short, but walking,—I envied their dexterity, and longed to be as sure-footed as these shoeless, half naked, ignorant blacks. To-day we leave Pacatuba for the house of Senhor Franklin, on our way back to CearÁ.

April 12th.—On the 10th we returned to Monguba, where we passed that day and the following night at the fazenda of our friends, the Franklins. The next morning we had intended to start at six o’clock on our way to the city. No sooner were the horses at the door, however, and the pack-mules ready, than a pouring rain began. We waited for it to pass, but it was followed by shower after shower, falling in solid sheets. So the day wore on till twelve o’clock, when there was a lull, with a prospect of fine weather, and we started. I could not help feeling some anxiety, for I remembered the streams we had forded in coming, and wondered what they would be after these torrents. Fortunately, before we reached the first of them, we met two negroes, who warned us that there was a great deal of water on the road. We hired them to come on with us, and guide my horse. When we reached the spot it really looked appalling. The road was inundated to a considerable distance, and the water rushed across it with great violence, having in many places a depth of four or five feet, and a strong current. If there had been a sound bottom to rely upon, the wetting would have been nothing; but the road, torn up by the rains, was full of holes and deep gullies, so that the horses, coming unexpectedly on these inequalities, would suddenly flounder up to their necks in water, and recover their footing only by kicking and plunging. We crossed four such streams, one man leading my horse while the gentlemen followed close behind, and the second negro walking in front to see where it was possible to pass without getting completely out of depth. These streams, not quite deep enough to allow the horse to swim, and with such a broken bottom that he is in constant danger of falling, are sometimes more difficult of passage than a river. We met with only one accident, however, which, as it did no harm, was rather ludicrous than otherwise. The negroes had left us, saying there was no more deep water in the road, and when we came presently to a shallow stream we entered it quite confidently. It was treacherous, however, for just on its edge was a soft, adhesive bog-mud. In entering, the horses stepped across this quagmire, but their hind legs were instantly caught in it. Major Coutinho, who was riding at my side, seized my bridle, and, spurring his own horse violently, both the animals extricated themselves at once by a powerful effort. Our servant, who followed behind, was not so fortunate; he was mounted on a small mule, which seemed likely to be swallowed up bodily for a moment, so suddenly did it disappear in the mire; the man fell off, and it was some minutes before he and his animal regained the road, a mass of mud and dripping with water. We reached CearÁ at five in the afternoon, having made a journey of five leagues. Every one tells us that the state of the roads is most unusual, such continuous rains not having been known for many years. The sickness in the city continues unabated, and a young man who was attacked with yellow-fever in the next house before we left has died in our absence. Everywhere on our journey we have heard the same complaints of prevalent epidemics, and the authorities are beginning to close the schools in the town on account of them. The steamer is due in a day or two, and we are making our preparations for departure. We should not bid good by to CearÁ without acknowledging the sympathy shown by the President of the Province, Senhor Homem de Mello, in the objects of the expedition. Mr. Agassiz has received a collection of palms and fishes, the directions for which he had given before starting for the Serra, but the expenses of which are defrayed by the President, who insists upon their being received as a contribution from the province. Mr. Agassiz is also greatly indebted to Senhor Felice, at whose house we have lodged, for efficient help in collecting, and to Senhor Cicero de Lima for a collection of fishes and insects from the interior. I conclude this chapter with a few passages from notes made by Mr. Agassiz during his examination of the Serra of Aratanha and the site of Pacatuba.

“I spent the rest of the day in a special examination of the right lateral moraine, and part of the front moraine of the glacier of Pacatuba; my object was especially to ascertain whether what appeared a moraine at first might not, after all, be a spur of the serra, decomposed in place. I ascended the ridge to its very origin, and there crossed into an adjoining depression, immediately below the Sitio of Captain Henriquez, where I found another glacier bottom of smaller dimensions, the ice of which probably never reached the plain. Everywhere in the ridges encircling these depressions the loose materials and large boulders are so accumulated and embedded in clay or sand that their morainic character is unmistakable. Occasionally, where a ledge of the underlying rock crops out, in places where the drift has been removed by denudation, the difference between the moraine and the rock decomposed in place is recognized at once. It is equally easy to distinguish the boulders which here and there have rolled down from the mountain and stopped against the moraine. The three things are side by side, and might at first be easily confounded; but a little familiarity makes it easy to distinguish them. Where the lateral moraine turns toward the front of the ancient glacier, near the point at which the brook of Pacatuba cuts through the former, and a little to the west of the brook, there are colossal boulders leaning against the moraine, from the summit of which they have probably rolled down. Near the cemetery the front moraine consists almost entirely of small quartz pebbles; there are, however, a few larger blocks among them. The medial moraine extends nearly through the centre of the village, while the left-hand lateral moraine lies outside of the village, at its eastern end, and is traversed by the road leading to CearÁ. It is not impossible that eastwards a third tributary of the serra may have reached the main glacier of Pacatuba. I may say, that in the whole valley of Hasli there are no accumulations of morainic materials more characteristic than those I have found here,—not even about the Kirchet; neither are there any remains of the kind more striking about the valleys of Mount Desert in Maine, where the glacial phenomena are so remarkable, nor in the valleys of Lough Fine, Lough Augh, and Lough Long in Scotland, where the traces of ancient glaciers are so distinct. In none of these localities are the glacial phenomena more legible than in the Serra of Aratanha. I hope that before long some members of the Alpine Club, thoroughly familiar with the glaciers of the Old World, not only in their present, but also in their past condition, will come to these mountains of CearÁ and trace the outlines of their former glaciers more extensively than it has been possible for me to do in this short journey. It would be an easy excursion, since steamers from Liverpool and Bordeaux reach Pernambuco in about ten days, arriving twice a month, while Brazilian steamers make the trip from Pernambuco to CearÁ in two days. The nearest serra in which I have observed traces of ancient glaciers is reached from CearÁ in one day on horseback. The best season for such a journey would be June and July, at the close of the rainy season, and before the great droughts of the dry season have began.”