making some noise or other, often screwing up its mouth and uttering a succession of loud notes resembling a whistle. My little pet, when loose, used to run after me, supporting itself for some distance on its hind legs, without, however, having been taught to do it. He offended me greatly one day by killing, in one of his jealous fits, another and much choicer pet—the nocturnal, owl-faced monkey (Nyctipithecus trivirgatus). Some one had given this a fruit, which the other coveted, so the two got to quarrelling. The Nyctipithecus fought only with its paws, clawing out and hissing like a cat; the other soon obtained the mastery, and before I could interfere, finished his rival by cracking its skull with his teeth. Upon this I got rid of him.
After a ramble of four or five hours, during which José shot a beautiful green and black-striped lizard of the Iguana family, from the trunk of a tree, and I filled my insect box with new and rare species (including an extremely beautiful butterfly of the genus Heliconius, H. Hermathena), we rejoined our companions at a hut, in the middle of the campo, where the Indians lived who had charge of the cattle. A tract of land like this, several miles in extent, alternating prairie and woodland, would be a rich possession in a better peopled country. The few oxen seemed to thrive on the nutritious grasses, and to make all complete there was a little lake in the low grounds, surrounded by fan-leaved Caraná palms, where the cattle could be watered all the year round. The farm was at present new, and the men said they had not yet been visited by jaguars. The
