bags on horseback by sunrise. His wretched little farm produced nothing else. The house stood in the middle of the bare pasture, without garden or any sort of plantation; a group of stately palms stood close by, to the trunks of which he secured the cows whilst milking. Butter-making is unknown in this country; the milk, I was told, is too poor; it is very rare indeed to see even the thinnest coating of cream on it, and the yield for each cow is very small. Our dairyman had to bring from Santarem every morning the meat, bread, and vegetables for the day's consumption. The other residents of Mahicá were not even so well off as this man. I always had to bring my own provisions when I came this way, for a perennial famine seemed to reign in the place. I could not help picturing to myself the very different aspect this fertile tract of country would wear if it were peopled by a few families of agricultural settlers from Northern Europe.
Although the meadows were unproductive ground to a Naturalist, the woods on their borders teemed with life: the number and variety of curious insects of all orders which occurred here was quite wonderful. The belt of forest was intersected by numerous pathways leading from one settler's house to another. The ground was moist, but the trees were not so lofty or their crowns so densely packed together as in other parts; the sun's light and heat therefore had freer access to the soil, and the underwood was much more diversified than in the virgin forest. I never saw so many kinds of dwarf palms together as here; pretty miniature species; some not more than five feet high,
