sidered quite a wonder as being a bird usually so difficult of domestication. I do not know what arts the old woman used: Captain Antonio said she fed it with her saliva. The chief reason why almost all animals become so wonderfully tame in the houses of the natives is, I believe, their being treated with uniform gentleness, and allowed to run at large about the rooms. Our Maracaná used to accompany us sometimes in our rambles, one of the lads carrying it on his head. One day, in the middle of a long forest road, it was missed, having clung probably to an overhanging bough and escaped into the thickets without the boy perceiving it. Three hours afterwards, on our return by the same path, a voice greeted us in a colloquial tone as we passed "Maracaná!" We looked about for some time, but could not see anything until the word was repeated with emphasis "Maracaná-á!" when we espied the little truant half concealed in the foliage of a tree. He came down and delivered himself up evidently as much rejoiced at the meeting as we were.
After I had obtained the two men promised, stout young Indians, 17 or 18 years of age, one named Ricardo and the other Alberto, I paid a second visit to the western side of the river in my own canoe; being determined, if possible, to obtain specimens of the White Cebus. We crossed over first to the mission village, Santa Cruz. It consists of 30 or 40 wretched-looking mud huts, closely built together in three straight ugly rows on a high gravelly bank. The place was deserted with the exception of two or three old men and women and a few children. The missionary, Fré Isidro, an
