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Odd people

by Mayne Reid · English · Gutenberg #35911 · 770,406 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Odd people
        Being a popular description of singular races of man

Author: Mayne Reid


        
Release date: April 19, 2011 [eBook #35911]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35911

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ODD PEOPLE ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England




Odd People
Being a Popular Description of Singular Races of Man
By Captain Mayne Reid
Published by Ticknor and Fields, Boston.
This edition dated 1861.

Odd People, by Captain Mayne Reid.

________________________________________________________________________

________________________________________________________________________
ODD PEOPLE, BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.



CHAPTER ONE.

BOSJESMEN, OR BUSHMEN.

Perhaps no race of people has more piqued the curiosity of the civilised
world than those little yellow savages of South Africa, known as the
_Bushmen_.  From the first hour in which European nations became
acquainted with their existence, a keen interest was excited by the
stories told of their peculiar character and habits; and although they
have been visited by many travellers, and many descriptions have been
given of them, it is but truth to say, that the interest in them has not
yet abated, and the Bushmen of Africa are almost as great a curiosity at
this hour as they were when Di Gama first doubled the Cape.  Indeed,
there is no reason why this should not be, for the habits and personal
appearance of these savages are just now as they were then, and our
familiarity with them is not much greater.  Whatever has been added to
our knowledge of their character, has tended rather to increase than
diminish our curiosity.

At first the tales related of them were supposed to be filled with
wilful exaggerations, and the early travellers were accused of dealing
too much in the marvellous.  This is a very common accusation brought
against the early travellers; and in some instances it is a just one.
But in regard to the accounts given of the Bushmen and their habits
there has been far less exaggeration than might be supposed; and the
more insight we obtain into their peculiar customs and modes of
subsistence, the more do we become satisfied that almost everything
alleged of them is true.  In fact, it would be difficult for the most
inventive genius to contrive a fanciful account, that would be much more
curious or interesting than the real and _bona fide_ truth that can be
told about this most peculiar people.

Where do the Bushmen dwell? what is their country?  These are questions
not so easily answered, as in reality they are not supposed to possess
any country at all, any more than the wild animals amidst which they
roam, and upon whom they prey.  There is no Bushman's country upon the
map, though several spots in Southern Africa have at times received this
designation.  It is not possible, therefore, to delineate the boundaries
of their country, since it has no boundaries, any more than that of the
wandering Gypsies of Europe.

If the Bushmen, however, have no country in the proper sense of the
word, they have a "range," and one of the most extensive character--
since it covers the whole southern portion of the African continent,
from the Cape of Good Hope to the twentieth degree of south latitude,
extending east and west from the country of the Cafires to the Atlantic
Ocean.  Until lately it was believed that the Bushman-range did not
extend far to the north of the Orange river; but this has proved an
erroneous idea.  They have recently "turned up" in the land of the
Dammaras, and also in the great Kalahari desert, hundreds of miles north
from the Orange river and it is not certain that they do not range still
nearer to the equatorial line--though it may be remarked that the
country in that direction does not favour the supposition, not being of
the peculiar nature of a Bushman's country.  The Bushman requires a
desert for his dwelling-place.  It is an absolute necessity of his
nature, as it is to the ostrich and many species of animals; and north
of the twentieth degree of latitude, South Africa does not appear to be
of this character.  The heroic Livingstone has dispelled the
long-cherished illusion of the Geography about the "_Great-sanded
level_" of these interior regions; and, instead, disclosed to the world
a fertile land, well watered, and covered with a profuse and luxuriant
vegetation.  In such a land there will be no Bushmen.

The limits we have allowed them, however, are sufficiently large,--
fifteen degrees of latitude, and an equally extensive range from east to
west.  It must not be supposed, however, that they _populate_ this vast
territory.  On the contrary, they are only distributed over it _in
spots_, in little communities, that have no relationship or connection
with one another, but are separated by wide intervals, sometimes of
hundreds of miles in extent.  It is only in the desert tracts of South
Africa that the Bushmen exist,--in the karoos, and treeless, waterless
plains--among the barren ridges and rocky defiles--in the ravines formed
by the beds of dried-up rivers--in situations so sterile, so remote, so
wild and inhospitable as to offer a home to no other human being save
the Bushman himself.

If we state more particularly the localities where the haunts of the
Bushman are to be found, we may specify the barren lands on both sides
of the Orange river,--including most of its headwaters, and down to its
mouth,--and also the Great Kalahari desert.  Through all this extensive
region the _kraals_ of the Bushmen may be encountered.  At one time they
were common enough within the limits of the Cape colony itself, and some
half-caste remnants still exist in the more remote districts; but the
cruel persecution of the _boers_ has had the effect of extirpating these
unfortunate savages; and, like the elephant, the ostrich, and the eland,
the true wild Bushman is now only to be met with beyond the frontiers of
the colony.

About the origin of the Bushmen we can offer no opinion.  They are
generally considered as a branch of the great Hottentot family; but this
theory is far from being an established fact.  When South Africa was
first discovered and colonised, both Hottentots and Bushmen were found
there, differing from each other just as they differ at this day; and
though there are some striking points of resemblance between them, there
are also points of dissimilarity that are equally as striking, if we
regard the two people as one.  In personal appearance there is a certain
general likeness: that is, both are woolly-haired, and both have a
Chinese cast of features, especially in the form and expression of the
eye.  Their colour too is nearly the same; but, on the other hand, the
Hottentots are larger than the Bushmen.  It is not in their persons,
however, that the most essential points of dissimilarity are to be
looked for, but rather in their mental characters; and here we observe
distinctions so marked and antithetical, that it is difficult to
reconcile them with the fact that these two people are of one race.
Whether a different habit of life has produced this distinctive
character, or whether _it_ has influenced the habits of life, are
questions not easily answered.  We only know that a strange anomaly
exists--the anomaly of two people being personally alike--that is,
possessing physical characteristics that seem to prove them of the same
race, while intellectually, as we shall presently see, they have scarce
one character in common.  The slight resemblance that exists between the
languages of the two is not to be regarded as a proof of their common
origin.  It only shows that they have long lived in juxtaposition, or
contiguous to each other; a fact which cannot be denied.

In giving a more particular description of the Bushman, it will be seen
in what respect he resembles the true Hottentot, and in what he differs
from him, both physically and mentally, and this description may now be
given.

The Bushman is the smallest man with whom we are acquainted; and if the
terms "dwarf" and "pigmy" may be applied to any race of human beings,
the South-African Bushmen presents the fairest claim to these titles.
He stands only 4 feet 6 inches upon his naked soles--never more than 4
feet 9, and not unfrequently is he encountered of still less height--
even so diminutive as 4 feet 2.  His wife is of still shorter stature,
and this Lilliputian lady is often the mother of children when the crown
of her head is just 3 feet 9 inches above the soles of her feet.  It has
been a very common thing to contradict the assertion that these people
are such pigmies in stature, and even Dr Livingstone has done so in his
late magnificent work.  The doctor states, very jocosely, that they are
"not dwarfish--that the specimens brought to Europe have been selected,
like costermongers' dogs, for their extreme ugliness."

But the doctor forgets that it is but from "the specimens brought to
Europe" that the above standard of the Bushman's height has been
derived, but from the testimony of numerous travellers--many of them as
trustworthy as the doctor himself--from actual measurements made by them
upon the spot.  It is hardly to be believed that such men as Sparmann
and Burchell, Barrow and Lichtenstein, Harris, Campbell, Patterson, and
a dozen others that might be mentioned, should all give an erroneous
testimony on this subject.  These travellers have differed notoriously
on other points, but in this they all agree, that a Bushman of five feet
in height is a _tall_ man in his tribe.  Dr Livingstone speaks of
Bushmen "six feet high," and these are the tribes lately discovered
living so far north as the Lake Nagami.  It is doubtful whether these
are Bushmen at all.  Indeed, the description given by the doctor, not
only of their height and the colour of their skin, but also some hints
about their intellectual character, would lead to the belief that he has
mistaken some other people for Bushmen.  It must be remembered that the
experience of this great traveller has been chiefly among the _Bechuana_
tribes, and his knowledge of the Bushman proper does not appear to be
either accurate or extensive.  No man is expected to know everybody; and
amid the profusion of new facts, which the doctor has so liberally laid
before the world, it would be strange if a few inaccuracies should not
occur.  Perhaps we should have more confidence if this was the only one
we are enabled to detect; but the doctor also denies that there is
anything either terrific or majestic in the "roaring of the lion."  Thus
speaks he: "The same feeling which has induced the modern painter to
caricature the lion has led the sentimentalist to consider the lion's
roar as the most terrific of all earthly sounds.  We hear of the
`majestic roar of the king of beasts.'  To talk of the majestic roar of
the lion is mere majestic twaddle."

The doctor is certainly in error here.  Does he suppose that any one is
ignorant of the character of the lion's roar?  Does he fancy that no one
has ever heard it but himself?  If it be necessary to go to South Africa
to take the true measure of a Bushman, it is not necessary to make that
long journey in order to obtain a correct idea of the compass of the
lion's voice.  We can hear it at home in all its modulations; and any
one who has ever visited the Zoological Gardens in Regent's Park--nay,
any one who chances to live within half a mile of that magnificent
menagerie--will be very much disposed to doubt the correctness of the
doctor's assertion.  If there be a sound upon the earth above all others
"majestic," a noise above all others "terrific," it is certainly the
_roar_ of the lion.  Ask Albert Terrace and Saint John's Wood!

But let us not be too severe upon the doctor.  The world is indebted to
him much more than to any other modern traveller, and all great men
indulge occasionally in the luxury of an eccentric opinion.  We have
brought the point forward here for a special purpose,--to illustrate a
too much neglected truth.  Error is not always on the side of
_exaggeration_; but is sometimes also found in the opposite extreme of a
too-squeamish moderation.  We find the learned Professor Lichtenstein
ridiculing poor old Hernandez, the natural historian of Mexico, for
having given a description of certain fabulous animals--_fabulous_, he
terms them, because to him they were odd and unknown.  But it turns out
that the old author was right, and the _animals exist_!  How many
similar misconceptions might be recorded of the Buffons, and other
closet philosophers--urged, too, with the most bitter zeal!  Incredulity
carried too far is but another form of credulity.

But to return to our proper theme, and complete the portrait of the
Bushman.  We have given his height.  It is in tolerable proportion to
his other dimensions.  When young, he appears stout enough; but this is
only when a mere boy.  At the age of sixteen he has reached all the
manhood he is ever destined to attain; and then his flesh disappears;
his body assumes a meagre outline; his arms and limbs grow thin; the
calf disappears from his legs; the plumpness from his cheeks; and
altogether he becomes as wretched-looking an object as it is possible to
conceive in human shape.  Older, his skin grows dry, corrugated, and
scaly; his bones protrude; and his knee, elbow, and ankle-joints appear
like horny knobs placed at the ends of what more resemble long straight
sticks than the arms and limbs of a human being.

The colour of this creature may be designated a yellow-brown, though it
is not easy to determine it to a shade.  The Bushman appears darker than
he really is; since his skin serves him for a towel, and every species
of dirt that discommodes his fingers he gets rid of by wiping it off on
his arms, sides, or breast.  The result is, that his whole body is
usually coated over with a stratum of grease and filth, which has led to
the belief that he regularly anoints himself--a custom common among many
savage tribes.  This, however, the Bushman does not do: the smearing
toilet is merely occasional or accidental, and consists simply in the
fat of whatever flesh he has been eating being transferred from his
fingers to the cuticle of his body.  This is never washed off again--for
water never touches the Bushman's hide.  Such a use of water is entirely
unknown to him, not even for washing his face.  Should he have occasion
to cleanse his hands--which the handling of gum or some like substance
sometimes compels him to do--he performs the operation, not with soap
and water, but with the dry dung of cattle or some wild animal.  A
little rubbing of this upon his skin is all the purification the Bushman
believes to be needed.

Of course, the dirt darkens his complexion; but he has the vanity at
times to brighten it up--not by making it whiter--but rather a
brick-red.  A little ochreous earth produces the colour he requires; and
with this he smears his body all over--not excepting even the crown of
his head, and the scant stock of wool that covers it.

Bushmen have been washed.  It requires some scrubbing, and a plentiful
application either of soda or soap, to reach the true skin and bring out
the natural colour; but the experiment has been made, and the result
proves that the Bushman is not so black as, under ordinary
circumstances, he appears.  A yellow hue shines through the epidermis,
somewhat like the colour of the Chinese, or a European in the worst
stage of jaundice--the eye only not having that complexion.  Indeed, the
features of the Bushman, as well as the Hottentot, bear a strong
similarity to those of the Chinese, and the Bushman's eye is essentially
of the Mongolian type.  His hair, however, is entirely of another
character.  Instead of being long, straight, and lank, it is short,
crisp, and curly,--in reality, wool.  Its scantiness is a
characteristic; and in this respect the Bushman differs from the
woolly-haired tribes both of Africa and Australasia.  These generally
have "fleeces" in profusion, whereas both Hottentot and Bushman have not
enough to half cover their scalps; and between the little knot-like
"kinks" there are wide spaces without a single hair upon them.  The
Bushman's "wool" is naturally black, but red ochre and the sun soon
convert the colour into a burnt reddish hue.

The Bushman has no beard or other hairy encumbrances.  Were they to
grow, he would root them out as useless inconveniences.  He has a
low-bridged nose, with wide flattened nostrils; an eye that appears a
mere slit between the eyelids; a pair of high cheek-bones, and a
receding forehead.  His lips are not thick, as in the negro, and he is
furnished with a set of fine white teeth, which, as he grows older, do
not decay, but present the singular phenomenon of being regularly worn
down to the stumps--as occurs to the teeth of sheep and other ruminant
animals.

Notwithstanding the small stature of the Bushman, his frame is wiry and
capable of great endurance.  He is also as agile as an antelope.

From the description above given, it will be inferred that the Bushman
is no beauty.  Neither is the Bushwoman; but, on the contrary, both
having passed the period of youth, become absolutely ugly,--the woman,
if possible, more so than the man.

And yet, strange to say, many of the Bush-girls, when young, have a cast
of prettiness almost amounting to beauty.  It is difficult to tell in
what this beauty consists.  Something, perhaps, in the expression of the
oblique almond-shaped eye, and the small well-formed mouth and lips,
with the shining white teeth.  Their limbs, too, at this early age, are
often well-rounded; and many of them exhibit forms that might serve as
models for a sculptor.  Their feet are especially well-shaped, and, in
point of size, they are by far the smallest in the world.  Had the
Chinese ladies been gifted by nature with such little feet, they might
have been spared the torture of compressing them.

The foot of a Bushwoman rarely measures so much as six inches in length;
and full-grown girls have been seen, whose feet, submitted to the test
of an actual measurement, proved but a very little over four inches!

Intellectually, the Bushman does not rank so low as is generally
believed.  He has a quick, cheerful mind, that appears ever on the
alert,--as may be judged by the constant play of his little piercing
black eye,--and though he does not always display much skill in the
manufacture of his weapons, he can do so if he pleases.  Some tribes
construct their bows, arrows, fish-baskets, and other implements and
utensils with admirable ingenuity; but in general the Bushman takes no
pride in fancy weapons.  He prefers having them effective, and to this
end he gives proof of his skill in the manufacture of _most deadly
poisons_ with which to anoint his arrows.  Furthermore, he is ever
active and ready for action; and in this his mind is in complete
contrast with that of the Hottentot, with whom indolence is a
predominant and well-marked characteristic.  The Bushman, on the
contrary, is always on the _qui vive_; always ready to be doing where
there is anything to do; and there is not much opportunity for him to be
idle, as he rarely ever knows where the next meal is to come from.  The
ingenuity which he displays in the capture of various kinds of game,--
far exceeding that of other hunting tribes of Africa,--as also the
cunning exhibited by him while engaged in cattle-stealing and other
plundering forays, prove an intellectual capacity more than proportioned
to his diminutive body; and, in short, in nearly every mental
characteristic does he differ from the supposed cognate race--the
Hottentot.

It would be hardly just to give the Bushman a character for high
courage; but, on the other hand, it would be as unjust to charge him
with cowardice.  Small as he is, he shows plenty of "pluck," and when
brought to bay, his motto is, "No surrender."  He will fight to the
death, discharging his poisoned arrows as long as he is able to bend a
bow.  Indeed, he has generally been treated to shooting, or clubbing to
death, wherever and whenever caught, and he knows nothing of _quarter_.
Just as a badger he ends his life,--his last struggle being an attempt
to do injury to his assailant.  This trait in his character has, no
doubt, been strengthened by the inhuman treatment that, for a century,
he has been receiving from the brutal boers of the colonial frontier.

The costume of the Bushman is of the most primitive character,--
differing only from that worn by our first parents, in that the fig-leaf
used by the men is a patch of jackal-skin, and that of the women a sort
of fringe or bunch of leather thongs, suspended around the waist by a
strap, and hanging down to the knees.  It is in reality a little apron
of dressed skin; or, to speak more accurately, two of them, one above
the other, both cut into narrow strips or thongs, from below the waist
downward.  Other clothing than this they have none, if we except a
little skin _kaross_, or cloak, which is worn over their shoulders;--
that of the women being provided with a bag or hood at the top, that
answers the naked "piccaninny" for a nest or cradle.  Sandals protect
their feet from the sharp stones, and these are of the rudest
description,--merely a piece of the thick hide cut a little longer and
broader than the soles of the feet, and fastened at the toes and round
the ankles by thongs of sinews.  An attempt at ornament is displayed in
a leathern skullcap, or more commonly a circlet around the head, upon
which are sewed a number of "cowries," or small shells of the _Cyprea
moneta_.

It is difficult to say where these shells are procured,--as they are not
the product of the Bushman's country, but are only found on the far
shores of the Indian Ocean.  Most probably he obtains them by barter,
and after they have passed through many hands; but they must cost the
Bushman dear, as he sets the highest value upon them.  Other ornaments
consist of old brass or copper buttons, attached to the little curls of
his woolly hair; and, among the women, strings of little pieces of
ostrich egg-shells, fashioned to resemble beads; besides a perfect load
of leathern bracelets on the arms, and a like profusion of similar
circlets on the limbs, often reaching from the knee to the ankle-joint.

Red ochre over the face and hair is the fashionable toilette, and a
perfumery is obtained by rubbing the skin with the powdered leaves of
the "buku" plant, a species of _diosma_.  According to a quaint old
writer, this causes them to "stink like a poppy," and would be highly
objectionable, were it not preferable to the odour which they have
without it.

They do not _tattoo_, nor yet perforate the ears, lips, or nose,--
practices so common among savage tribes.  Some instances of
nose-piercing have been observed, with the usual appendage of a piece of
wood or porcupine's quill inserted in the septum, but this is a custom
rather of the Caffres than Bushmen.  Among the latter it is rare.  A
grand ornament is obtained by smearing the face and head with a shining
micaceous paste, which is procured from a cave in one particular part of
the Bushman's range; but this, being a "far-fetched" article, is
proportionably scarce and dear.  It is only a fine belle who can afford
to give herself a coat of _blink-slip_,--as this sparkling pigment is
called by the colonists.  Many of the women, and men as well, carry in
their hands the bushy tail of a jackal.  The purpose is to fan off the
flies, and serve also as a "wipe," to disembarrass their bodies of
perspiration when the weather chances to be over hot.

The domicile of the Bushman next merits description.  It is quite as
simple and primitive as his dress, and gives him about equal trouble in
its construction.  If a cave or cleft can be found in the rocks, of
sufficient capacity to admit his own body and those of his family--never
a very large one--he builds no house.  The cave contents him, be it ever
so tight a squeeze.  If there be no cave handy, an overhanging rock will
answer equally as well.  He regards not the open sides, nor the
draughts.  It is only the rain which he does not relish; and any sort of
a shed, that will shelter him from that, will serve him for a dwelling.
If neither cave, crevice, nor impending cliff can be found in the
neighbourhood, he then resorts to the alternative of housebuilding; and
his style of architecture does not differ greatly from that of the
orang-outang.  A bush is chosen that grows near to two or three
others,--the branches of all meeting in a common centre.  Of these
branches the builder takes advantage, fastening them together at the
ends, and wattling some into the others.  Over this framework a quantity
of grass is scattered in such a fashion as to cast off a good shower of
rain, and then the "carcass" of the building is considered complete.
The inside work remains yet to be done, and that is next set about.  A
large roundish or oblong hole is scraped out in the middle of the floor.
It is made wide enough and deep enough to hold the bodies of three or
four Bush-people, though a single large Caffre or Dutchman would
scarcely find room in it.  Into this hole is flung a quantity of dry
grass, and arranged so as to present the appearance of a gigantic nest.
This nest, or lair, becomes the bed of the Bushman, his wife, or
wives,--for he frequently keeps two,--and the other members of his
family.  Coiled together like monkeys, and covered with their skin
karosses, they all sleep in it,--whether "sweetly" or "soundly," I shall
not take upon me to determine.

It is supposed to be this fashion of literally "sleeping in the bush,"
as also the mode by which he skulks and hides among bushes,--invariably
taking to them when pursued,--that has given origin to the name Bushman,
or _Bosjesman_, as it is in the language of the colonial Dutch.  This
derivation is probable enough, and no better has been offered.

The Bushman sometimes constructs himself a more elaborate dwelling; that
is, some Bushmen;--for it should be remarked that there are a great many
tribes or communities of these people, and they are not all so very low
in the scale of civilisation.  None, however, ever arrive at the
building of a house,--not even a hut.  A tent is their highest effort in
the building line, and that is of the rudest description, scarce
deserving the name.  Its covering is a mat, which they weave out of a
species of rush that grows along some of the desert streams; and in the
fabrication of the covering they display far more ingenuity than in the
planning or construction of the tent itself.  The mat, in fact, is
simply laid over two poles, that are bent into the form of an arch, by
having both ends stuck into the ground.  A second piece of matting
closes up one end; and the other, left open, serves for the entrance.
As a door is not deemed necessary, no further construction is required,
and the tent is "pitched" complete.  It only remains to scoop out the
sand, and make the _nest_ as already described.

It is said that the Goths drew their ideas of architecture from the
aisles of the oak forest; the Chinese from their Mongolian tents; and
the Egyptians from their caves in the rocks.  Beyond a doubt, the
Bushman has borrowed his from the nest of the ostrich!

It now becomes necessary to inquire how the Bushman spends his time? how
he obtains subsistence? and what is the nature of his food?  All these
questions can be answered, though at first it may appear difficult to
answer them.  Dwelling, as he always does, in the very heart of the
desert, remote from forests that might furnish him with some sort of
food--trees that might yield fruit,--far away from a fertile soil, with
no knowledge of agriculture, even if it were near,--with no flocks or
herds; neither sheep, cattle, horses, nor swine,--no domestic animals
but his lean, diminutive dogs,--how does this Bushman procure enough to
eat?  What are his sources of supply?

We shall see.  Being neither a grazier nor a farmer, he has other means
of subsistence,--though it must be confessed that they are of a
precarious character, and often during his life does the Bushman find
himself on the very threshold of starvation.  This, however, results
less from the parsimony of Nature than the Bushman's own improvident
habits,--a trait in his character which is, perhaps, more strongly
developed in him than any other.  We shall have occasion to refer to it
presently.

His first and chief mode of procuring his food is by the chase: for,
although he is surrounded by the sterile wilderness, he is not the only
animated being who has chosen the desert for his home.  Several species
of birds--one the largest of all--and quadrupeds, share with the Bushman
the solitude and safety of this desolate region.  The rhinoceros can
dwell there; and in numerous streams are found the huge hippopotami;
whilst quaggas, zebras, and several species of antelope frequent the
desert plains as their favourite "stamping" ground.  Some of these
animals can live almost without water; but when they do require it, what
to them is a gallop of fifty miles to some well-known "vley" or pool?
It will be seen, therefore, that the desert has its numerous denizens.
All these are objects of the Bushman's pursuit, who follows them with
incessant pertinacity--as if he were a beast of prey, furnished by
Nature with the most carnivorous propensities.

In the capture of these animals he displays an almost incredible
dexterity and cunning.  His mode of approaching the sly ostrich, by
disguising himself in the skin of one of these birds, is so well-known
that I need not describe it here; but the _ruses_ he adopts for
capturing or killing other sorts of game are many of them equally
ingenious.  The pit-trap is one of his favourite contrivances; and this,
too, has been often described,--but often very erroneously.  The pit is
not a large hollow,--as is usually asserted,--but rather of dimensions
proportioned to the size of the animal that is expected to fall into it.
For game like the rhinoceros or _eland_ antelope, it is dug of six feet
in length and three in width at the top; gradually narrowing to the
bottom, where it ends in a trench of only twelve inches broad.  Six or
seven feet is considered deep enough; and the animal, once into it, gets
so wedged at the narrow bottom part as to be unable to make use of its
legs for the purpose of springing out again.  Sometimes a sharp stake or
two are used, with the view of _impaling_ the victim; but this plan is
not always adopted.  There is not much danger of a quadruped that drops
in ever getting out again, till he is dragged out by the Bushman in the
shape of a carcass.

The Bushman's ingenuity does not end here.  Besides the construction of
the trap, it is necessary the game should be guided into it.  Were this
not done, the pit might remain a long time empty, and, as a necessary
consequence, so too might the belly of the Bushman.  In the wide plain
few of the gregarious animals have a path which they follow habitually;
only where there is a pool may such beaten trails be found, and of these
the Bushman also avails himself; but they are not enough.  Some
artificial means must be used to make the traps pay--for they are not
constructed without much labour and patience.  The plan adopted by the
Bushman to accomplish this exhibits some points of originality.  He
first chooses a part of the plain which lies between two mountains.  No
matter if these be distant from each other: a mile, or even two, will
not deter the Bushman from his design.  By the help of his whole tribe--
men, women, and children--he constructs a fence from one mountain to the
other.  The material used is whatever may be most ready to the hand:
stones, sods, brush, or dead timber, if this be convenient.  No matter
how rude the fence: it need not either be very high.  He leaves several
gaps in it; and the wild animals, however easily they might leap over
such a puny barrier, will, in their ordinary way, prefer to walk
leisurely through the gaps.  In each of these, however, there is a
dangerous hole--dangerous from its depth as well as from the cunning way
in which it is concealed from the view--in short, in each gap there is a
_pit-fall_.  No one--at least no animal except the elephant--would ever
suspect its presence; the grass seems to grow over it, and the sand lies
unturned, just as elsewhere upon the plain.  What quadruped could detect
the cheat?  Not any one except the sagacious elephant.  The stupid eland
tumbles through; the gemsbok goes under; and the rhinoceros rushes into
it as if destined to destruction.  The Bushman sees this from his
elevated perch, glides forward over the ground, and spears the
struggling victim with his _poisoned assagai_.

Besides the above method of capturing game the Bushman also uses the bow
and arrows.  This is a weapon in which he is greatly skilled; and
although both bow and arrows are as tiny as if intended for children's
toys, they are among the deadliest of weapons, their fatal effect lies
not in the _size_ of the wound they are capable of inflicting, but in
the peculiar mode in which the barbs of the arrows are prepared.  I need
hardly add that they are dipped in poison;--for who has not heard of the
poisoned arrows of the African Bushmen?

Both bow and arrows are usually rude enough in their construction, and
would appear but a trumpery affair, were it not for a knowledge of their
effects.  The bow is a mere round stick, about three feet long, and
slightly bent by means of its string of twisted sinews.  The arrows are
mere reeds, tipped with pieces of bone, with a split ostrich-quill
lapped behind the head, and answering for a barb.  This arrow the
Bushman can shoot with tolerable certainty to a distance of a hundred
yards, and he can even project it farther by giving a slight elevation
to his aim.  It signifies not whether the force with which it strikes
the object be ever so slight, if it only makes an entrance.  Even a
scratch from its point will sometimes prove fatal.

Of course the danger dwells altogether in the poison.  Were it not for
that, the Bushman, from his dwarfish stature and pigmy strength, would
be a harmless creature indeed.

The poison he well knows how to prepare, and he can make it of the most
"potent spell," when the "materials" are within his reach.  For this
purpose he makes use of both vegetable and animal substances, and a
mineral is also employed; but the last is not a poison, and is only used
to give consistency to the liquid, so that it may the better adhere to
the arrow.  The vegetable substances are of various kinds.  Some are
botanically known: the bulb of _Amaryllis disticha_,--the gum of a
_Euphorbia_,--the sap of a species of sumac (_Rhus_),--and the nuts of a
shrubby plant, by the colonists called _Woolf-gift_ (Wolf-poison).

The animal substance is the fluid found in the fangs of venomous
serpents, several species of which serve the purpose of the Bushman: as
the little "Horned Snake,"--so called from the scales rising prominently
over its eyes; the "Yellow Snake," or South-African Cobra (_Naga haje_);
the "Puff Adder," and others.  From all these he obtains the ingredients
of his deadly ointment, and mixes them, not all together; for he cannot
always procure them all in any one region of the country in which he
dwells.  He makes his poison, also, of different degrees of potency,
according to the purpose for which he intends it; whether for hunting or
war.  With sixty or seventy little arrows, well imbued with this fatal
mixture, and carefully placed in his quiver of tree bark or skin,--or,
what is not uncommon, stuck like a coronet around his head,--he sallies
forth, ready to deal destruction either to game, animals, or to human
enemies.

Of these last he has no lack.  Every man, not a Bushman, he deems his
enemy; and he has some reason for thinking so.  Truly may it be said of
him, as of Ishmael, that his "hand is against every man, and every man's
hand against him;" and such has been his unhappy history for ages.  Not
alone have the boers been his pursuers and oppressors, but all others
upon his borders who are strong enough to attack him,--colonists,
Caffres, and Bechuanas, all alike,--not even excepting his supposed
kindred, the Hottentots.  Not only does no fellow-feeling exist between
Bushman and Hottentot, but, strange to say, they hate each other with
the most rancorous hatred.  The Bushman will plunder a Namaqua
Hottentot, a Griqua, or a Gonaqua,--plunder and murder him with as much
ruthlessness, or even more, than he would the hated Caffre or boer.  All
are alike his enemies,--all to be plundered and massacred, whenever met,
and the thing appears possible.

We are speaking of plunder.  This is another source of supply to the
Bushman, though one that is not always to be depended upon.  It is his
most dangerous method of obtaining a livelihood, and often costs him his
life.  He only resorts to it when all other resources fail him, and food
is no longer to be obtained by the chase.

He makes an expedition into the settlements,--either of the frontier
boers, Caffres, or Hottentots,--whichever chance to live most convenient
to his haunts.  The expedition, of course, is by night, and conducted,
not as an open _foray_, but in secret, and by stealth.  The cattle are
_stolen_, not _reeved_, and driven off while the owner and his people
are asleep.

In the morning, or as soon as the loss is discovered, a pursuit is at
once set on foot.  A dozen men, mounted and armed with long muskets
(_roers_), take the _spoor_ of the spoilers, and follow it as fast as
their horses will _carry_ them.  A dozen boers, or even half that
number, is considered a match for a whole tribe of Bushmen, in any fight
which may occur in the open plain, as the boers make use of their
long-range guns at such a distance that the Bushmen are shot down
without being able to use their poisoned arrows; and if the thieves have
the fortune to be overtaken before they have got far into the desert,
they stand a good chance of being terribly chastised.

There is no quarter shown them.  Such a thing as mercy is never dreamt
of,--no sparing of lives any more than if they were a pack of hyenas.
The Bushmen may escape to the rocks, such of them as are not hit by the
bullets; and there the boers know it would be idle to follow them.  Like
the klipspringer antelope, the little savages can bound from rock to
rock, and cliff to cliff, or hide like partridges among crevices, where
neither man nor horse can pursue them.  Even upon the level plain--if it
chance to be stony or intersected with breaks and ravines--a horseman
would endeavour to overtake them in vain, for these yellow imps are as
swift as ostriches.

When the spoilers scatter thus, the boer may recover his cattle, but in
what condition?  That he has surmised already, without going among the
herd.  He does not expect to drive home one half of them; perhaps not
one head.  On reaching the flock he finds there is not one without a
wound of some kind or other: a gash in the flank, the cut of a knife,
the stab of an assagai, or a poisoned arrow--intended for the boer
himself--sticking between the ribs.  This is the sad spectacle that
meets his eyes; but he never reflects that it is the result of his own
cruelty,--he never regards it in the light of retribution.  Had he not
first hunted the Bushman to make him a slave, to make bondsmen and
bondsmaids of his sons and daughters, to submit them to the caprice and
tyranny of his great, strapping _frau_, perhaps his cattle would have
been browsing quietly in his fields.  The poor Bushman, in attempting to
take them, followed but his instincts of hunger: in yielding them up he
obeyed but the promptings of revenge.

It is not always that the Bushman is thus overtaken.  He frequently
succeeds in carrying the whole herd to his desert fastness; and the
skill which he exhibits in getting them there is perfectly surprising.
The cattle themselves are more afraid of him than of a wild beast, and
run at his approach; but the Bushman, swifter than they, can glide all
around them, and keep them moving at a rapid rate.

He uses stratagem also to obstruct or baffle the pursuit.  The route he
takes is through the driest part of the desert,--if possible, where
water does not exist at all.  The cattle suffer from thirst, and bellow
from the pain; but the Bushman cares not for that, so long as he is
himself served.  But how is he served?  There is no water, and a Bushman
can no more go without drinking than a boer: how then does he provide
for himself on these long expeditions?

All has been pre-arranged.  While off to the settlements, the Bushman's
wife has been busy.  The whole _kraal_ of women--young and old--have
made an excursion halfway across the desert, each carrying ostrich
egg-shells, as much as her kaross will hold, each shell full of water.
These have been deposited at intervals along the route in secret spots
known by marks to the Bushmen, and this accomplished the women return
home again.  In this way the plunderer obtains his supply of water, and
thus is he enabled to continue his journey over the arid _Karroo_.

The pursuers become appalled.  They are suffering from thirst--their
horses sinking under them.  Perhaps they have lost their way?  It would
be madness to proceed further.  "Let the cattle go this time?" and with
this disheartening reflection they give up the pursuit, turn the heads
of their horses, and ride homeward.

There is a feast at the Bushman's kraal--and such a feast! not _one_ ox
is slaughtered, but a score of them all at once.  They kill them, as if
from very wantonness; and they no longer eat, but raven on the flesh.

For days the feasting is kept up almost continuously,--even at night
they must wake up to have a midnight meal! and thus runs the tale, till
every ox has been eaten.  They have not the slightest idea of a
provision for the future; even the lower animals seem wiser in this
respect.  They do not think of keeping a few of the plundered cattle at
pasture to serve them for a subsequent occasion.  They give the poor
brutes neither food nor drink; but, having penned them up in some defile
of the rocks, leave them to moan and bellow, to drop down and die.

On goes the feasting, till all are finished; and even if the flesh has
turned putrid, this forms not the slightest objection: it is eaten all
the same.

The kraal now exhibits an altered spectacle.  The starved, meagre
wretches, who were seen flitting among its tents but a week ago, have
all disappeared.  Plump bodies and distended abdomens are the order of
the day; and the profile of the Bushwoman, taken from the neck to the
knees, now exhibits the outline of the letter S.  The little imps leap
about, tearing raw flesh,--their yellow cheeks besmeared with blood,--
and the lean curs seem to have been exchanged for a pack of fat, petted
poodles.

But this scene must some time come to an end, and at length it does end.
All the flesh is exhausted, and the bones picked clean.  A complete
reaction comes over the spirit of the Bushman.  He falls into a state of
languor,--the only time when he knows such a feeling,--and he keeps his
kraal, and remains idle for days.  Often he sleeps for twenty-four hours
at a time, and wakes only to go to sleep again.  He need not rouse
himself with the idea of getting something to eat: there is not a morsel
in the whole kraal, and he knows it.  He lies still, therefore,--
weakened with hunger, and overcome with the drowsiness of a terrible
lassitude.

Fortunate for him, while in this state, if those bold vultures--
attracted by the _debris_ of his feast, and now high wheeling in the
air--be not perceived from afar; fortunate if they do not discover the
whereabouts of his kraal to the vengeful pursuer.  If they should do so,
he has made his last foray and his last feast.

When the absolute danger of starvation at length compels our Bushman to
bestir himself, he seems to recover a little of his energy, and once
more takes to hunting, or, if near a stream, endeavours to catch a few
fish.  Should both these resources fail, he has another,--without which
he would most certainly starve,--and perhaps this may be considered his
most important source of supply, since it is the most constant, and can
be depended on at nearly all seasons of the year.  Weakened with hunger,
then, and scarce equal to any severer labour, he goes _out hunting--this
time insects, not quadrupeds_.  With a stout stick inserted into a stone
at one end and pointed at the other, he proceeds to the nests of the
white ants (_termites_), and using the point of the stick,--the stone
serving by its weight to aid the force of the blow,--he breaks open the
hard, gummy clay of which the hillock is formed.  Unless the _aard-vark_
and the _pangolin_--two very different kinds of ant-eaters--have been
there before him, he finds the chambers filled with the eggs of the
ants, the insects themselves, and perhaps large quantities of their
_larvae_.  All are equally secured by the Bushman, and either devoured
on the spot, or collected into a skin bag, and carried back to his
kraal.

He hunts also another species of ants that do not build nests or
"hillocks," but bring forth their young in hollows under the ground.
These make long galleries or covered ways just under the surface, and at
certain periods--which the Bushman knows by unmistakable signs--they
become very active, and traverse these underground galleries in
thousands.  If the passages were to be opened above, the ants would soon
make off to their caves, and but a very few could be captured.  The
Bushman, knowing this, adopts a stratagem.  With the stick already
mentioned he pierces holes of a good depth down; and works the stick
about, until the sides of the holes are smooth and even.  These he
intends shall serve him as pitfalls; and they are therefore made in the
covered ways along which the insects are passing.  The result is, that
the little creatures, not suspecting the existence of these deep wells,
tumble head foremost into them, and are unable to mount up the steep
smooth sides again, so that in a few minutes the hole will be filled
with ants, which the Bushman scoops out at his leisure.

Another source of supply which he has, and also a pretty constant one,
consists of various roots of the tuberous kind, but more especially
bulbous roots, which grow in the desert.  They are several species of
_Ixias_ and _Mesembryanthemums_,--some of them producing bulbs of a
large size, and deeply buried underground.  Half the Bushman's and
Bushwoman's time is occupied in digging for these roots; and the spade
employed is the stone-headed staff already described.

Ostrich eggs also furnish the Bushman with many a meal; and the huge
shells of these eggs serve him for water-vessels, cups, and dishes.  He
is exceedingly expert in tracking up the ostrich, and discovering its
nest.  Sometimes he finds a nest in the absence of the birds; and in a
case of this kind he pursues a course of conduct that is _peculiarly
Bushman_.  Having removed all the eggs to a distance, and concealed them
under some bush, he returns to the nest and ensconces himself in it.
His diminutive body, when close squatted, cannot be perceived from a
distance, especially when there are a few bushes around the nest, as
there usually are.  Thus concealed he awaits the return of the birds,
holding his bow and poisoned arrows ready to salute them as soon as they
come within range.  By this _ruse_ he is almost certain of killing
either the cock or hen, and not infrequently both--when they do not
return together.

Lizards and land-tortoises often furnish the Bushman with a meal; and
the shell of the latter serves him also for a dish; but his period of
greatest plenty is when the locusts _appear_.  Then, indeed, the Bushman
is no longer in want of a meal; and while these creatures remain with
him, he knows no hunger.  He grows fat in a trice, and his curs keep
pace with him--for they too greedily devour the locusts.  Were the
locusts a constant, or even an annual visitor, the Bushman would be a
rich man--at all events his wants would be amply supplied.
Unfortunately for him, but fortunately for everybody else, these
terrible destroyers of vegetation only come now and then--several years
often intervening between their visits.

The Bushmen have no religion whatever; no form of marriage--any more
than mating together like wild beasts; but they appear to have some
respect for the memory of their dead, since they bury them--usually
erecting a large pile of stones, or "cairn," over the body.

They are far from being of a melancholy mood.  Though crouching in their
dens and caves during the day, in dread of the boers and other enemies,
they come forth at night to chatter and make merry.  During fine
moonlights they dance all night, keeping up the _ball_ till morning; and
in their kraals may be seen a circular spot--beaten hard and smooth with
their feet--where these dances are performed.

They have no form of government--not so much as a head man or chief.
Even the father of the family possesses no authority, except such as
superior strength may give him; and when his sons are grown up and
become as strong as he is, this of course also ceases.

They have no tribal organisation; the small communities in which they
live being merely so many individuals accidentally brought together,
often quarrelling and separating from one another.  These communities
rarely number over a hundred individuals, since, from the nature of
their country, a large number could not find subsistence in any one
place.  It follows, therefore, that the Bushman race must ever remain
widely scattered--so long as they pursue their present mode of life--and
no influence has ever been able to win them from it.  Missionary efforts
made among them have all proved fruitless.  The desert seems to have
been created for them, as they for the desert; and when transferred
elsewhere, to dwell amidst scenes of civilised life, they always yearn
to return to their wilderness home.

Truly are these pigmy savages an odd people!



CHAPTER TWO.

THE AMAZONIAN INDIANS.

In glancing at the map of the American continent, we are struck by a
remarkable analogy between the geographical features of its two great
divisions--the North and the South,--an analogy amounting almost to a
symmetrical parallelism.

Each has its "mighty" mountains--the _Cordilleras of the Andes_ in the
south, and the _Cordilleras of the Sierra Madre_ (Rocky Mountains) in
the north--with all the varieties of volcano and eternal snow.  Each has
its secondary chain: in the north, the _Nevadas_ of California and
Oregon; in the south, the _Sierras_ of Caraccas and the group of Guiana;
and, if you wish to render the parallelism complete, descend to a lower
elevation, and set the Alleghanies of the United States against the
mountains of Brazil--both alike detached from all the others.

In the comparison we have exhausted the mountain chains of both
divisions of the continent.  If we proceed further, and carry it into
minute detail, we shall find the same correspondence--ridge for ridge,
chain for chain, peak for peak;--in short, a most singular equilibrium,
as if there had been a design that one half of this great continent
should balance the other!

From the mountains let us proceed to the rivers, and see how _they_ will
correspond.  Here, again, we discover a like parallelism, amounting
almost to a rivalry.  Each continent (for it is proper to style them so)
contains the largest river in the world.  If we make _length_ the
standard, the north claims precedence for the Mississippi; if _volume of
water_ is to be the criterion, the south is entitled to it upon the
merits of the Amazon.  Each, too, has its numerous branches, spreading
into a mighty "tree"; and these, either singly or combined, form a
curious equipoise both in length and magnitude.  We have only time to
set list against list, tributaries of the great northern river against
tributaries of its great southern compeer,--the Ohio and Illinois, the
Yellowstone and Platte, the Kansas and Osage, the Arkansas and Red,
against the Madeira and Purus, the Ucayali and Huallaga, the Japura and
Negro, the Xingu and Tapajos.

Of other river systems, the Saint Lawrence may be placed against the La
Plata, the Oregon against the Orinoco, the Mackenzie against the
Magdalena, and the Rio Bravo del Norte against the Tocantins; while the
two Colorados--the Brazos and Alabama--find their respective rivals in
the Essequibo, the Paranahybo, the Pedro, and the Patagonian Negro; and
the San Francisco of California, flowing over sands of gold, is balanced
by its homonyme of Brazil, that has its origin in the land of diamonds.
To an endless list might the comparison be carried.

We pass to the plains.  _Prairies_ in the north, _llanos_ and _pampas_
in the south, almost identical in character.  _Of the plateaux_ or
tablelands, those of Mexico, La Puebla, Perote, and silver Potosi in the
north; those of Quito, Bogota, Cusco, and gold Potosi in the south; of
the desert plains, Utah and the Llano Estacado against Atacama and the
deserts of Patagonia.  Even the Great Salt Lake has its parallel in
Titicaca; while the "Salinas" of New Mexico and the upland prairies, are
represented by similar deposits in the Gran Chaco and the Pampas.

We arrive finally at the forests.  Though unlike in other respects, we
have here also a rivalry in magnitude,--between the vast timbered
expanse stretching from Arkansas to the Atlantic shores, and that which
covers the valley of the Amazon.  These _were_ the two greatest forests
on the face of the earth.  I say _were_, for one of them no longer
exists; at least, it is no longer a continuous tract, but a collection
of forests, opened by the axe, and intersected by the clearings of the
colonist.  The other still stands in all its virgin beauty and primeval
vigour, untouched by the axe, undefiled by fire, its path scarce trodden
by human feet, its silent depths to this hour unexplored.

It is with this forest and its denizens we have to do.  Here then let us
terminate the catalogue of similitudes, and concentrate our attention
upon the particular subject of our sketch.

The whole _valley_ of the Amazon--in other words, the tract watered by
this great river and its tributaries--may be described as one unbroken
forest.  We now know the borders of this forest with considerable
exactness, but to trace them here would require a too lengthened detail.
Suffice it to say, that lengthwise it extends from the mouth of the
Amazon to the foothills of the Peruvian Andes, a distance of 2,500
miles.  In breadth it varies, beginning on the Atlantic coast with a
breadth of 400 miles, which widens towards the central part of the
continent till it attains to 1,500, and again narrowing to about 1,000,
where it touches the eastern slope of the Andes.

That form of leaf known to botanists as "obovate" will give a good idea
of the figure of the great Amazon forest, supposing the small end or
shank to rest on the Atlantic, and the broad end to extend along the
semicircular concavity of the Andes, from Bolivia on the south to New
Granada on the north.  In all this vast expanse of territory there is
scarce an acre of open ground, if we except the water-surface of the
rivers and their bordering "lagoons," which, were they to bear their due
proportions on a map, could scarce be represented by the narrowest
lines, or the most inconspicuous dots.  The grass plains which embay the
forest on its southern edge along the banks of some of its Brazilian
tributaries, or those which proceed like spurs from the Llanos of
Venezuela, do not in any place approach the Amazon itself, and there are
many points on the great river which may be taken as centres, and around
which circles may be drawn, having diameters 1,000 miles in length, the
circumferences of which will enclose nothing but timbered land.  The
main stream of the Amazon, though it intersects this grand forest, does
not _bisect_ it, speaking with mathematical precision.  There is rather
more timbered surface to the southward than that which extends
northward, though the inequality of the two divisions is not great.  It
would not be much of an error to say that the Amazon river cuts the
forest in halves.  At its mouth, however, this would not apply; since
for the first 300 miles above the embouchure of the river, the country
on the northern side is destitute of timber.  This is occasioned by the
projecting spurs of the Guiana mountains, which on that side approach
the Amazon in the shape of naked ridges and grass-covered hills and
plains.

It is not necessary to say that the great forest of the Amazon is a
tropical one--since the river itself, throughout its whole course,
almost traces the line of the equator.  Its vegetation, therefore, is
emphatically of a tropical character; and in this respect it differs
essentially from that of North America, or rather, we should say, of
Canada and the United States.  It is necessary to make this limitation,
because the forests of the tropical parts of North America, including
the West-Indian islands, present a great similitude to that of the
Amazon.  It is not only in the genera and species of trees that the
_sylva_ of the temperate zone differs from that of the torrid; but there
is a very remarkable difference in the distribution of these genera and
species.  In a great forest of the north, it is not uncommon to find a
large tract covered with a single species of trees,--as with pines,
oaks, poplars, or the red cedar (_Juniperus Virginiana_).  This
arrangement is rather the rule than the exception; whereas, in the
tropical forest, the rule is reversed, except in the case of two or
three species of palms (_Mauritia_ and _Euterpe_), which sometimes
exclusively cover large tracts of surface.  Of other trees, it is rare
to find even a clump or grove standing together--often only two or three
trees, and still more frequently, a single individual is observed,
separated from those of its own kind by hundreds of others, all
differing in order, genus, and species.  I note this peculiarity of the
tropic forest, because it exercises, as may easily be imagined, a direct
influence upon the economy of its human occupants--whether these be
savage or civilised.  Even the habits of the lower animals--beasts and
birds--are subject to a similar influence.

It would be out of place here to enumerate the different kinds of trees
that compose this mighty wood,--a bare catalogue of their names would
alone fill many pages,--and it would be safe to say that if the list
were given as now known to botanists, it would comprise scarce half the
species that actually exist in the valley of the Amazon.  In real truth,
this vast Garden of God is yet unexplored by man.  Its border walks and
edges have alone been examined; and the enthusiastic botanist need not
fear that he is too late in the field.  A hundred years will elapse
before this grand _parterre_ can be exhausted.

At present, a thorough examination of the botany of the Amazon valley
would be difficult, if not altogether impossible, even though conducted
on a grand and expensive scale.  There are several reasons for this.
Its woods are in many places absolutely impenetrable--on account either
of the thick tangled undergrowth, or from the damp, spongy nature of the
soil.  There are no roads that could be traversed by horse or man; and
the few paths are known only to the wild savage,--not always passable
even by him.  Travelling can only be done by water, either upon the
great rivers, or by the narrow creeks (igaripes) or lagoons; and a
journey performed in this fashion must needs be both tedious and
indirect, allowing but a limited opportunity for observation.  Horses
can scarce be said to exist in the country, and cattle are equally
rare--a few only are found in one or two of the large Portuguese
settlements on the main river--and the jaguars and blood-sucking bats
offer a direct impediment to their increase.  Contrary to the general
belief, the tropical forest is not the home of the larger mammalia: it
is not their proper _habitat_, nor are they found in it.  In the Amazon
forest but few species exist, and these not numerous in individuals.
There are no vast herds--as of buffaloes on the prairies of North
America, or of antelopes in Africa.  The tapir alone attains to any
considerable size,--exceeding that of the ass,--but its numbers are few.
Three or four species of small deer represent the ruminants, and the
hog of the Amazon is the peccary.  Of these there are at least three
species.  Where the forest impinges on the mountain regions of Peru,
bears are found of at least two kinds, but not on the lower plains of
the great "Montana,"--for by this general designation is the vast
expanse of the Amazon country known among the Peruvian people.  "Montes"
and "montanas," literally signifying "mountains," are not so understood
among Spanish Americans.  With them the "montes" and "montanas" are
tracts of forest-covered country, and that of the Amazon valley is the
"Montana" _par excellence_.

Sloths of several species, and opossums of still greater variety, are
found all over the Montana, but both thinly distributed as regards the
number of individuals.  A similar remark applies to the ant-eaters or
"ant-bears," of which there are four kinds,--to the armadillos, the
"agoutis," and the "cavies," one of which last, the _capibara_, is the
largest rodent upon earth.  This, with its kindred genus, the "paca," is
not so rare in individual numbers, but, on the contrary, appears in
large herds upon the borders of the rivers and lagoons.  A porcupine,
several species of spinous rats, an otter, two or three kinds of
badger-like animals (the _potto_ and _coatis_), a "honey-bear" (_Galera
barbara_), and a fox, or wild dog, are widely distributed throughout the
Montana.

Everywhere exists the jaguar, both the black and spotted varieties, and
the puma has there his lurking-place.  Smaller cats, both spotted and
striped, are numerous in species, and squirrels of several kinds, with
bats, complete the list of the terrestrial mammalia.

Of all the lower animals, monkeys are the most common, for to them the
Montana is a congenial home.  They abound not only in species, but in
the number of individuals, and their ubiquitous presence contributes to
enliven the woods.  At least thirty different kinds of them exist in the
Amazon valley, from the "coatas," and other howlers as large as baboons,
to the tiny little "ouistitis" and "saimiris," not bigger than squirrels
or rats.

While we must admit a paucity in the species of the quadrupeds of the
Amazon, the same remark does not apply to the birds.  In the
ornithological department of natural history, a fulness and richness
here exist, perhaps not equalled elsewhere.  The most singular and
graceful forms, combined with the most brilliant plumage, are everywhere
presented to the eye, in the parrots and great macaws, the toucans,
trogons, and tanagers, the _shrikes_, humming-birds, and orioles; and
even in the vultures and eagles: for here are found the most beautiful
of predatory birds,--the king vulture and the harpy eagle.  Of the
feathered creatures existing in the valleys of the Amazon there are not
less than one thousand different species, of which only one half have
yet been caught or described.

Reptiles are equally abundant--the serpent family being represented by
numerous species, from the great water boa (_anaconda_), of ten yards in
length, to the tiny and beautiful but venomous _lachesis_, or coral
snake, not thicker than the shank of a tobacco-pipe.  The lizards range
through a like gradation, beginning with the huge "jacare," or
crocodile, of several species, and ending with the turquoise-blue
_anolius_, not bigger than a newt.

The waters too are rich in species of their peculiar inhabitants--of
which the most remarkable and valuable are the _manatees_ (two or three
species), the great and smaller turtles, the porpoises of various kinds,
and an endless catalogue of the finny tribes that frequent the rivers of
the tropics.  It is mainly from this source, and not from four-footed
creatures of the forest, that the human denizen of the great Montana
draws his supply of food,--at least that portion of it which may be
termed the "meaty."  Were it not for the _manatee_, the great porpoise,
and other large fish, he would often have to "eat his bread dry."

And now it is _his_ turn to be "talked about."  I need not inform you
that the aborigines who inhabit the valley of the Amazon, are all of the
so-called _Indian_ race--though there are so many, distinct tribes of
them that almost every river of any considerable magnitude has a tribe
of its own.  In some cases a number of these tribes belong to one
_nationality_; that is, several of them may be found speaking nearly the
same language, though living apart from each other; and of these larger
divisions or nationalities there are several occupying the different
districts of the Montana.  The tribes even of the same nationality do
not always present a uniform appearance.  There are darker and fairer
tribes; some in which the average standard of height is less than among
Europeans; and others where it equals or exceeds this.  There are tribes
again where both men and women are ill-shaped and ill-favoured--though
these are few--and other tribes where both sexes exhibit a considerable
degree of personal beauty.  Some tribes are even distinguished for their
good looks, the men presenting models of manly form, while the women are
equally attractive by the regularity of their features, and the graceful
modesty of expression that adorns them.

A minute detail of the many peculiarities in which the numerous tribes
of the Amazon differ from one another would fill a large volume; and in
a sketch like the present, which is meant to include them all, it would
not be possible to give such a detail.  Nor indeed would it serve any
good purpose; for although there are many points of difference between
the different tribes, yet these are generally of slight importance, and
are far more than counterbalanced by the multitude of resemblances.  So
numerous are these last, as to create a strong _idiosyncrasy_ in the
tribes of the Amazon, which not only entitles them to be classed
together in an ethnological point of view, but which separates them from
all the other Indians of America.  Of course, the non-possession of the
horse--they do not even know the animal--at once broadly distinguishes
them from the Horse Indians, both of the Northern and Southern divisions
of the continent.

It would be idle here to discuss the question as to whether the
Amazonian Indians have all a common origin.  It is evident they have
not.  We know that many of them are from Peru and Bogota--runaways from
Spanish oppression.  We know that others migrated from the south--
equally fugitives from the still more brutal and barbarous domination of
the Portuguese.  And still others were true aboriginals of the soil, or
if emigrants, when and whence came they?  An idle question, never to be
satisfactorily answered.  There they now are, and _as they are_ only
shall we here consider them.

Notwithstanding the different sources whence they sprang, we find them,
as I have already said, stamped with a certain idiosyncrasy, the result,
no doubt, of the like circumstances which surround them.  One or two
tribes alone, whose habits are somewhat "odder" than the rest, have been
treated to a separate chapter; but for the others, whatever is said of
one, will, with very slight alteration, stand good for the whole of the
Amazonian tribes.  Let it be understood that we are discoursing only of
those known as the "Indios bravos," the fierce, brave, savage, or wild
Indians--as you may choose to translate the phrase,--a phrase used
throughout all Spanish America to distinguish those tribes, or sections
of tribes, who refused obedience to Spanish tyranny, and who preserve to
this hour their native independence and freedom.  In contradistinction
to the "Indios bravos" are the "Indios mansos," or "tame Indians," who
submitted tamely both to the cross and sword, and now enjoy a rude
demi-semi-civilisation, under the joint protectorate of priests and
soldiers.  Between these two kinds of American aborigines, there is as
much difference as between a lord and his serf--the true savage
representing the former and the demi-semi-civilised savage approximating
more nearly to the latter.  The meddling monk has made a complete
failure of it.  His ends were purely political, and the result has
proved ruinous to all concerned;--instead of civilising the savage, he
has positively demoralised him.

It is not of his neophytes, the "Indios mansos," we are now writing, but
of the "infidels," who would not hearken to his voice or listen to his
teachings--those who could never be brought within "sound of the bell."

Both "kinds" dwell within the valley of the Amazon, but in different
places.  The "Indios mansos" may be found along the banks of the main
stream, from its source to its mouth--but more especially on its upper
waters, where it runs through Spanish (Peruvian) territory.  There they
dwell in little villages or collections of huts, ruled by the missionary
monk with iron rod, and performing for him all the offices of the menial
slave.  Their resources are few, not even equalling those of their wild
but independent brethren; and their customs and religion exhibit a
ludicrous _melange_ of savagery and civilisation.  Farther down the
river, the "Indio manso" is a "tapuio," a hireling of the Portuguese, or
to speak more correctly, a _slave_; for the latter treats him as such,
considers him as such, and though there is a law against it, often drags
him from his forest-home and keeps him in life-long bondage.  Any human
law would be a dead letter among such white-skins as are to be
encountered upon the banks of the Amazon.  Fortunately they are but few;
a town or two on the lower Amazon and Rio Negro,--some wretched villages
between,--scattered _estancias_ along the banks--with here and there a
paltry post of "militarios," dignified by the name of a "fort:" these
alone speak the progress of the Portuguese civilisation throughout a
period of three centuries!

From all these settlements the wild Indian keeps away.  He is never
found near them--he is never seen by travellers, not even by the
settlers.  You may descend the mighty Amazon from its source to its
mouth, and not once set your eyes upon the true son of the forest--the
"Indio bravo."  Coming in contact only with the neophyte of the Spanish
missionary, and the skulking _tapuio_ of the Portuguese trader, you
might bring away a very erroneous impression of the character of an
Amazonian Indian.

Where is he to be seen? where dwells he? what like is his home? what
sort of a house does he build?  His costume? his arms? his occupation?
his habits?  These are the questions you would put.  They shall all be
answered, but briefly as possible--since our limited space requires
brevity.

The wild Indian, then, is not to be found upon the Amazon itself, though
there are long reaches of the river where he is free to roam--hundreds
of miles without either town or _estancia_.  He hunts, and occasionally
fishes by the great water, but does not there make his dwelling--though
in days gone by, its shores were his favourite place of residence.
These were before the time when Orellana floated down past the door of
his "malocca"--before that dark hour when the Brazilian slave-hunter
found his way into the waters of the mighty _Solimoes_.  This last event
was the cause of his disappearance.  It drove him from the shores of his
beloved river-sea; forced him to withdraw his dwelling from observation,
and rebuild it far up, on those tributaries where he might live a more
peaceful life, secure from the trafficker in human flesh.  Hence it is
that the home of the Amazonian Indian is now to be sought for--not on
the Amazon itself, but on its tributary streams--on the "canos" and
"igaripes," the canals and lagoons that, with a labyrinthine
ramification, intersect the mighty forest of the Montana.  Here dwells
he, and here is he to be seen by any one bold enough to visit him in his
fastness home.

How is he domiciled?  Is there anything peculiar about the style of his
house or his village?

Eminently peculiar; for in this respect he differs from all the other
savage people of whom we have yet written, or of whom we may have
occasion to write.

Let us proceed at once to describe his dwelling.  It is not a tent, nor
is it a hut, nor a cabin, nor a cottage, nor yet a cave!  His dwelling
can hardly be termed a house, nor his village a collection of houses--
since both house and village are one and the same, and both are so
peculiar, that we have no name for such a structure in civilised lands,
unless we should call it a "barrack."  But even this appellation would
give but an erroneous idea of the Amazonian dwelling; and therefore we
shall use that by which it is known in the "Lingoa geral," and call it a
_malocca_.

By such name is his house (or village rather) known among the _tapuios_
and traders of the Amazon.  Since it is both house and village at the
same time, it must needs be a large structure; and so is it, large
enough to contain the whole tribe--or at least the section of it that
has chosen one particular spot for their residence.  It is the property
of the whole community, built by the labour of all, and used as their
common dwelling--though each family has its own section specially set
apart for itself.  It will thus be seen that the Amazonian savage is, to
some extent, a disciple of the Socialist school.

I have not space to enter into a minute account of the architecture of
the _malocca_.  Suffice it to say, that it is an immense temple-like
building, raised upon timber uprights, so smooth and straight as to
resemble columns.  The beams and rafters are also straight and smooth,
and are held in their places by "sipos" (tough creeping plants), which
are whipped around the joints with a neatness and compactness equal to
that used in the rigging of a ship.  The roof is a thatch of
palm-leaves, laid on with great regularity, and brought very low down at
the eaves, so as to give to the whole structure the appearance of a
gigantic beehive.  The walls are built of split palms or bamboos, placed
so closely together as to be impervious to either bullet or arrows.

The plan is a parallelogram, with a semicircle at one end; and the
building is large enough to accommodate the whole community, often
numbering more than a hundred individuals.  On grand festive occasions
several neighbouring communities can find room enough in it--even for
dancing--and three or four hundred individuals not unfrequently assemble
under the roof of a single _malocca_.

Inside the arrangements are curious.  There is a wide hall or avenue in
the middle--that extends from end to end throughout the whole length of
the parallelogram--and on both sides of the hall is a row of partitions,
separated from each other by split palms or canes, closely placed.  Each
of these sections is the abode of a family, and the place of deposit for
the hammocks, clay pots, calabash-cups, dishes, baskets, weapons, and
ornaments, which are the private property of each.  The hall is used for
the larger cooking utensils--such as the great clay ovens and pans for
baking the cassava, and boiling the _caxire_ or _chicha_.  This is also
a neutral ground, where the children play, and where the dancing is done
on the occasion of grand "balls" and other ceremonial festivals.

The common doorway is in the gable end, and is six feet wide by ten in
height.  It remains open during the day, but is closed at night by a mat
of palm fibre suspended from the top.  There is another and smaller
doorway at the semicircular end; but this is for the private use of the
chief, who appropriates the whole section of the semicircle to himself
and his family.

Of course the above is only the general outline of a _malocca_.  A more
particular description would not answer for that of all the tribes of
the Amazon.  Among different communities, and in different parts of the
Montana, the _malocca_ varies in size, shape, and the materials of which
it is built; and there are some tribes who live in separate huts.  These
exceptions, however, are few, and as a general thing, that above
described is the style of habitation throughout the whole Montana, from
the confines of Peru to the shores of the Atlantic.  North and south we
encounter this singular house-village, from the headwaters of the Rio
Negro to the highlands of Brazil.

Most of the Amazonian tribes follow agriculture, and understood the art
of tillage before the coming of the Spaniards.  They practise it,
however, to a very limited extent.  They cultivate a little manioc, and
know how to manufacture it into _farinha_ or _cassava_ bread.  They
plant the _musaceae_ and yam, and understand the distillation of various
drinks, both from the plantain and several kinds of palms.  They can
make pottery from clay,--shaping it into various forms, neither rude nor
inelegant,--and from the trees and parasitical twiners that surround
their dwellings, they manufacture an endless variety of neat implements
and utensils.

Their canoes are hollow trunks of trees sufficiently well-shaped, and
admirably adapted to their mode of travelling--which is almost
exclusively by water, by the numerous _canos_ and _igaripes_, which are
the roads and paths of their country--often as narrow and intricate as
paths by land.

The Indians of the tropic forest dress in the very lightest costume.  Of
course each tribe has its own fashion; but a mere belt of cotton cloth,
or the inner bark of a tree, passed round the waist and between the
limbs, is all the covering they care for.  It is the _guayuco_.  Some
wear a skirt of tree bark, and, on grand occasions, feather tunics are
seen, and also plume head-dresses, made of the brilliant wing and tail
feathers of parrots and macaws.  Circlets of these also adorn the arms
and limbs.  All the tribes paint, using the _anotto, caruto_, and
several other dyes which they obtain from various kinds of trees,
elsewhere more particularly described.

There are one or two tribes who _tattoo_ their skins; but this strange
practice is far less common among the American Indians than with the
natives of the Pacific isles.

In the manufacture of their various household utensils and implements,
as well as their weapons for war and the chase, many tribes of Amazonian
Indians display an ingenuity that would do credit to the most
accomplished artisans.  The hammocks made by them have been admired
everywhere; and it is from the valley of the Amazon that most of these
are obtained, so much prized in the cities of Spanish and Portuguese
America.  They are the special manufacture of the women, the men only
employing their mechanical skill on their weapons:

The hammock, "rede," or "maqueira," is manufactured out of strings
obtained from the young leaves of several species of palms.  The
_astrocaryum_, or "tucum" palm furnishes this cordage, but a still
better quality is obtained from the "miriti" (_Mauritia flexuosa_).  The
unopened leaf, which forms a thick-pointed column growing up out of the
crown of the tree, is cut off at the base, and this being pulled apart,
is shaken dexterously until the tender leaflets fall out.  These being
stripped of their outer covering, leave behind a thin tissue of a
pale-yellowish colour, which is the fibre for making the cordage.  After
being tied in bundles this fibre is left awhile to dry, and is then
twisted by being rolled between the hand and the hip or thigh.  The
women perform this process with great dexterity.  Taking two strands of
fibre between the forefinger and thumb of the left hand, they lay them
separated a little along the thigh; a roll downward gives them a twist,
and then being adroitly brought together, a roll upwards completes the
making of the cord.  Fifty fathoms in a day is considered a good day's
spinning.  The cords are afterwards dyed of various colours, to render
them more ornamental when woven into the maqueira.

The making of this is a simple process.  Two horizontal rods are placed
at about seven feet apart, over which the cord is passed some fifty or
sixty times, thus forming the "woof."  The warp is then worked in by
knotting the cross strings at equal distances apart, until there are
enough.  Two strong cords are then inserted where the rods pass through,
and these being firmly looped, so as to draw all the parallel strings
together, the rod is pulled out, and the hammock is ready to be used.

Of course, with very fine "redes," and those intended to be disposed of
to the traders, much pains are taken in the selection of the materials,
the dyeing the cord, and the weaving it into the hammock.  Sometimes
very expensive articles are made ornamented with the brilliant feathers
of birds cunningly woven among the meshes and along the borders.

Besides making the hammock, which is the universal couch of the
Amazonian Indian, the women also manufacture a variety of beautiful
baskets.  Many species of palms and _calamus_ supply them with materials
for this purpose, one of the best being the "Iu" palm (_Astrocaryum
acaule_).  They also make many implements and utensils, some for
cultivating the plantains, melons, and _manioc root_, and others for
manufacturing the last-named vegetable into their favourite "farinha"
(_cassava_).  The Indians understood how to separate the poisonous juice
of this valuable root from its wholesome farina before the arrival of
white men among them; and the process by which they accomplish this
purpose has remained without change up to the present hour, in fact, it
is almost the same as that practised by the Spaniards and Portuguese,
who simply adopted the Indian method.  The work is performed by the
women, and thus: the roots are brought home from the manioc "patch" in
baskets, and then washed and peeled.  The peeling is usually performed
by the teeth; after that the roots are grated, the grater being a large
wooden slab about three feet long, a foot wide, a little hollowed out,
and the hollow part covered all over with sharp pieces of quartz set in
regular diamond-shaped patterns.  Sometime a cheaper grater is obtained
by using the aerial root of the pashiuba palm (_Iriartea exhorhiza_),
which, being thickly covered over with hard spinous protuberances,
serves admirably for the purpose.

The grated pulp is next placed to dry upon a sieve, made of the rind of
a water-plant, and is afterwards put into a long elastic cylinder-shaped
basket or net, of the bark of the "jacitara" palm (_Desmoncus
macroacanthus_).  This is the _tipiti_; and at its lower end there is a
strong loop, through which a stout pole is passed; while the _tipiti_
itself, when filled with pulp, is hung up to the branch of a tree, or to
a firm peg in the wall.  One end of the pole is then rested against some
projecting point, that serves as a fulcrum, while the Indian woman,
having seated herself upon the other end, with her infant in her arms,
or perhaps some work in her hands, acts as the lever power.  Her weight
draws the sides of the _tipiti_ together, until it assumes the form of
an inverted cone; and thus the juice is gradually pressed out of the
pulp, and drops into a vessel placed underneath to receive it.  The
mother must be careful that the little imp does not escape from under
her eye, and perchance quench its thirst out of the vessel below.  If
such an accident were to take place, in a very few minutes she would
have to grieve for a lost child; since the sap of the manioc root, the
variety most cultivated by the Indians, is a deadly poison.  This is the
"yucca amarga," or bitter manioc; the "yucca dulce," or sweet kind,
being quite innoxious, even if eaten in its raw state.

The remainder of the process consists in placing the grated pulp--now
sufficiently dry--on a large pan or oven, and submitting it to the
action of the fire.  It is then thought sufficiently good for Indian
use; but much of it is afterwards prepared for commerce, under different
names, and sold as _semonilla_ (erroneously called _semolina_), sago,
and even as arrowroot.

At the bottom of that, poisonous tub, a sediment has all the while been
forming.  That is the _starch_ of the manioc root--the _tapioca_ of
commerce: of course that is not thrown away.

The men of the tropic forest spend their lives in doing very little.
They are idle and not much disposed to work--only when war or the chase
calls them forth do they throw aside for awhile their indolent habit,
and exhibit a little activity.

They hunt with the bow and arrow, and fish with a harpoon spear, nets,
and sometimes by poisoning water with the juice of a vine called
barbasco.  The "peixe boy," "vaca marina," or "manatee,"--all three
names being synonymes--is one of the chief animals of their pursuit.
All the waters of the Amazon valley abound with manatees, probably of
several species, and these large creatures are captured by the harpoon,
just as seals or walrus are taken.  Porpoises also frequent the
South-American rivers; and large fresh-water fish of numerous species.
The game hunted by the Amazonian Indians can scarcely be termed noble.
We have seen that the large _mammalia_ are few, and thinly distributed
in the tropical forest.  With the exception of the jaguar and peccary,
the chase is limited to small quadrupeds--as the capibara, the paca,
agouti--to many kinds of monkeys, and an immense variety of birds.  The
monkey is the most common game, and is not only eaten by all the
Amazonian Indians, but by most of them considered as the choicest of
food.

In procuring their game the hunters sometimes use the common bow and
arrow, but most of the tribes are in possession of a weapon which they
prefer to all others for this particular purpose.  It is an implement of
death so original in its character and so singular in its construction
as to deserve a special and minute description.

The weapon I allude to is the "blow-gun," called "pucuna" by the Indians
themselves, "gravitana" by the Spaniards, and "cerbatana" by the
Portuguese of Brazil.

When the Amazonian Indian wishes to manufacture for himself a _pucuna_
he goes out into the forest and searches for two tall, straight stems of
the "pashiuba miri" palm (_Iriartea setigera_).  These he requires of
such thickness that one can be contained within the other.  Having found
what he wants, he cuts both down and carries them home to his molocca.
Neither of them is of such dimensions as to render this either
impossible or difficult.

He now takes a long slender rod--already prepared for the purpose--and
with this pushes out the pith from both stems, just as boys do when
preparing their pop-guns from the stems of the elder-tree.  The rod thus
used is obtained from another species of _Iriartea_ palm, of which the
wood is very hard and tough.  A little tuft of fern-root, fixed upon the
end of the rod, is then drawn backward and forward through the tubes,
until both are cleared of any pith which may have adhered to the
interior; and both are polished by this process to the smoothness of
ivory.  The palm of smaller diameter, being scraped to a proper size, is
now inserted into the tube of the larger, the object being to correct
any crookedness in either, should there be such; and if this does not
succeed, both are whipped to some straight beam or post, and thus left
till they become straight.  One end of the bore, from the nature of the
tree, is always smaller than the other; and to this end is fitted a
mouthpiece of two peccary tusks to concentrate the breath of the hunter
when blowing into the tube.  The other end is the muzzle; and near this,
on the top, a sight is placed, usually a tooth of the "paca" or some
other rodent animal.  This sight is glued on with a gum which another
tropic tree furnishes.  Over the outside, when desirous of giving the
weapon an ornamental finish, the maker winds spirally a shining creeper,
and then the _pucuna_ is ready for action.

Sometimes only a single shank of palm is used, and instead of the pith
being pushed out, the stem is split into two equal parts throughout its
whole extent.  The heart substance being then removed, the two pieces
are brought together, like the two divisions of a cedarwood pencil, and
tightly bound with a sipo.

The _pucuna_ is usually about an inch and a half in diameter at the
thickest end, and the bore about equal to that of a pistol of ordinary
calibre.  In length, however, the weapon varies from eight to twelve
feet.

This singular instrument is designed, not for propelling a bullet, but
an arrow; but as this arrow differs altogether from the common kind it
also needs to be described.

The blow-gun arrow is about fifteen or eighteen inches long, and is made
of a piece of split bamboo; but when the "patawa" palm can be found,
this tree furnishes a still better material, in the long spines that
grow out from the sheathing bases of its leaves.  These are 18 inches in
length, of a black colour, flattish though perfectly straight.  Being
cut to the proper length--which most of them are without cutting--they
are whittled at one end to a sharp point.  This point is dipped about
three inches deep in the celebrated "curare" poison; and just where the
poison mark terminates, a notch is made, so that the head will be easily
broken off when the arrow is in the wound.  Near the other end a little
soft down of silky cotton (the floss of the _bombax ceiba_) is twisted
around into a smooth mass of the shape of a spinning-top, with its
larger end towards the nearer extremity of the arrow.  The cotton is
held in its place by being lightly whipped on by the delicate thread or
fibre of a _bromelia_, and the mass is just big enough to fill the tube
by gently pressing it inward.

The arrow thus made is inserted, and whenever the game is within reach
the Indian places his mouth to the lower end or mouthpiece, and with a
strong "puff," which practice enables him to give, he sends the little
messenger upon its deadly errand.  He can hit with unerring aim at the
distance of forty or fifty paces; but he prefers to shoot in a direction
nearly vertical, as in that way he can take the surest aim.  As his
common game--birds and monkeys--are usually perched upon the higher
branches of tall trees, their situation just suits him.  Of course it is
not the mere wound of the arrow that kills these creatures, but the
poison, which in two or three minutes after they have been hit, will
bring either bird or monkey to the ground.  When the latter is struck he
would be certain to draw out the arrow; but the notch, already
mentioned, provides against this, as the slightest wrench serves to
break off the envenomed head.

These arrows are dangerous things,--even for the manufacturer of them to
play with: they are therefore carried in a quiver, and with great
care,--the quiver consisting either of a bamboo joint or a neat wicker
case.

The weapons of war used by the forest tribes are the common bow and
arrows, also tipped with _curare_, and the "macana," or war-club, a
species peculiar to South America, made out of the hard heavy wood of
the _pissaba_ palm.  Only one or two tribes use the spear; and both the
"bolas" and lazo are quite unknown, as such weapons would not be
available among the trees of the forest.  These are the proper arms of
the Horse Indian, the dweller on the open plains; but without them, for
all war purposes, the forest tribes have weapons enough, and,
unfortunately, make a too frequent use of them.



CHAPTER THREE.

THE WATER-DWELLERS OF MARACAIBO.

The Andes mountains, rising in the extreme southern point of South
America, not only extend throughout the whole length of that continent,
but continue on through Central America and Mexico, under the name of
"Cordilleras de Sierra Madre;" and still farther north to the shores of
the Arctic Sea, under the very inappropriate appellation of the "Rocky
Mountains."  You must not suppose that these stupendous mountains form
one continuous elevation.  At many places they furcate into various
branches, throwing off spurs, and sometime parallel "sierras," between
which lie wide "valles," or level plains of great extent.  It is upon
these high plateaux--many of them elevated 7,000 feet above the sea--
that the greater part of the Spanish-American population dwells; and on
them too are found most of the large cities of Spanish South America and
Mexico.

These parallel chains meet at different points, forming what the
Peruvians term "nodas" (knots); and, after continuing for a distance in
one great cordillera, again bifurcate.  One of the most remarkable of
these bifurcations of the Andes occurs about latitude 2 degrees North.
There the gigantic sierra separates into two great branches, forming a
shape like the letter Y, the left limb being that which is usually
regarded as the main continuation of these mountains through the Isthmus
of Panama, while the right forms the eastern boundary of the great
valley of the Magdalena river; and then, trending in an eastwardly
direction along the whole northern coast of South America to the extreme
point of the promontory of Paria.

Each of these limbs again forks into several branches or spurs,--the
whole system forming a figure that may be said to bear some resemblance
to a genealogical tree containing the pedigree of four or five
generations.

It is only with one of the bifurcations of the right or eastern sierra
that this sketch has to do.  On reaching the latitude of 7 degrees
north, this chain separates itself into two wings, which, after
diverging widely to the east and west, sweep round again towards each
other, as if desirous to be once more united.  The western wing advances
boldly to this reunion; but the eastern, after vacillating for a time,
as if uncertain what course to take, turns its back abruptly on its old
comrade, and trends off in a due east direction, till it sinks into
insignificance upon the promontory of Paria.

The whole mass of the sierra, however, has not been of one mind; for, at
the time of its indecision, a large spur detaches itself from the main
body, and sweeps round, as if to carry out the union with the left wing
advancing from the west.  Although they get within sight of each other,
they are not permitted to meet,--both ending abruptly before the circle
is completed, and forming a figure bearing a very exact resemblance to
the shoe of a racehorse.  Within this curving boundary is enclosed a
vast valley,--as large as the whole of Ireland,--the central portion of
which, and occupying about one third of its whole extent, is a sheet of
water, known from the days of the discovery of America, as the _Lake of
Maracaibo_.

It obtained this appellation from the name of an Indian cazique, who was
met upon its shores by the first discoverers; but although this lake was
known to the earliest explorers of the New World,--although it lies
contiguous to many colonial settlements both on the mainland and the
islands of the Caribbean Sea,--the lake itself and the vast territory
that surrounds it, remain almost as unknown and obscure as if they were
situated among the central deserts of Africa.

And yet the valley of Maracaibo is one of the most interesting portions
of the globe,--interesting not only as a _terra incognita_, but on
account of the diversified nature of its scenery and productions.  It
possesses a _fauna_ of a peculiar kind, and its _flora_ is one of the
richest in the world, not surpassed,--perhaps not equalled,--by that of
any other portion of the torrid zone.  To give a list of its vegetable
productions would be to enumerate almost every species belonging to
tropical America.  Here are found the well-known medicinal plants,--the
sassafras and sarsaparilla, guaiacum, copaiva, cinchona, and cuspa, or
_Cortex Angosturae_; here are the deadly poisons of _barbasco_ and
_mavacure_, and alongside them the remedies of the "palo sano," and
_mikania guaco_.  Here likewise grow plants and trees producing those
well-known dyes of commerce, the blue indigo, the red arnotto, the
lake-coloured chica, the brazilletto, and dragon's-blood; and above all,
those woods of red, gold, and ebon tints, so precious in the eyes of the
cabinet and musical-instrument makers of Europe.

Yet, strange to say, these rich resources lie, like treasures buried in
the bowels of the earth, or gems at the bottom of the sea, still
undeveloped.  A few small lumbering establishments near the entrance of
the lake,--here and there a miserable village, supported by a little
coast commerce in dyewoods, or cuttings of ebony,--now and then a hamlet
of fishermen,--a "hato" of goats and sheep; and at wider intervals, a
"ganaderia" of cattle, or a plantation of cocoa-trees (_cocale_),
furnish the only evidence that man has asserted his dominion over this
interesting region.  These settlements, however, are sparsely
distributed, and widely distant from one another.  Between them stretch
broad savannas and forests,--vast tracts, untitled and even
unexplored,--a very wilderness, but a wilderness rich in natural
resources.

The Lake of Maracaibo is often, though erroneously, described as an arm
of the sea.  This description only applies to the _Gulf of Maracaibo_,
which is in reality a portion of the Caribbean Sea.  The lake itself is
altogether different, and is a true fresh-water lake, separated from the
gulf by a narrow neck or strait.  Within this strait--called "boca," or
mouth--the salt water does not extend, except during very high tides or
after long-continued _nortes_ (north winds), which have the effect of
driving the sea-water up into the lake, and imparting to some portions
of it a saline or brackish taste.  This, however, is only occasional and
of temporary continuance; and the waters of the lake, supplied by a
hundred streams from the horseshoe sierra that surrounds it, soon return
to their normal character of freshness.

The shape of Lake Maracaibo is worthy of remark.  The main body of its
surface is of oval outline,--the longer diameter running north and
south,--but taken in connection with the straits which communicate with
the outer gulf, it assumes a shape somewhat like that of a Jew's-harp,
or rather of a kind of guitar, most in use among Spanish Americans, and
known under the name of "mandolin" (or "bandolon").  To this instrument
do the natives sometimes compare it.

Another peculiarity of Lake Maracaibo, is the extreme shallowness of the
water along its shores.  It is deep enough towards the middle part; but
at many points around the shore, a man may wade for miles into the
water, without getting beyond his depth.  This peculiarity arises from
the formation of the valley in which it is situated.  Only a few spurs
of the sierras that surround it approach near the edge of the lake.
Generally from the bases of the mountains, the land slopes with a very
gentle declination,--so slight as to have the appearance of a perfectly
horizontal plain,--and this is continued for a great way under the
surface of the water.  Strange enough, however, after getting to a
certain distance from the shore, the shoal water ends as abruptly as the
escarpment of a cliff, and a depth almost unfathomable succeeds,--as if
the central part of the lake was a vast subaqueous ravine, bounded on
both sides by precipitous cliffs.  Such, in reality, is it believed to
be.

A singular phenomenon is observed in the Lake Maracaibo, which, since
the days of Columbus, has not only puzzled the Curious, but also the
learned and scientific, who have unsuccessfully attempted to explain it.
This phenomenon consists in the appearance of a remarkable light, which
shows itself in the middle of the night, and at a particular part of the
lake, near its southern extremity.  This light bears some resemblance to
the _ignis fatuus_ of our own marshes; and most probably is a
phosphorescence of a similar nature, though on a much grander scale,--
since it is visible at a vast distance across the open water.  As it is
seen universally in the same direction, and appears fixed in one place,
it serves as a beacon for the fishermen and dye-wood traders who
navigate the waters of the lake,--its longitude being precisely that of
the straits leading outward to the gulf.  Vessels that have strayed from
their course, often regulate their reckoning by the mysterious "Farol de
Maracaibo" (Lantern of Maracaibo),--for by this name is the natural
beacon known to the mariners of the lake.

Various explanations have been offered to account for this singular
phenomenon, but none seem to explain it in a satisfactory manner.  It
appears to be produced by the exhalations that arise from an extensive
marshy tract lying around the mouth of the river Zulia, and above which
it universally shows itself.  The atmosphere in this quarter is usually
hotter than elsewhere, and supposed to be highly charged with
electricity; but whatever may be the chemical process which produces the
illumination, it acts in a perfectly silent manner.  No one has ever
observed any explosion to proceed from it, or the slightest sound
connected with its occurrence.

Of all the ideas suggested by the mention of Lake Maracaibo, perhaps
none are so interesting as those that relate to its native inhabitants,
whose peculiar habits and modes of life not only astonished the early
navigators, but eventually gave its name to the lake itself and to the
extensive province in which it is situated.  When the Spanish
discoverers, sailing around the shores of the gulf, arrived near the
entrance of Lake Maracaibo, they saw, to their amazement, not only
single houses, but whole villages, apparently floating upon the water!
On approaching nearer, they perceived that these houses were raised some
feet above the surface, and supported by posts or piles driven into the
mud at the bottom.  The idea of Venice--that city built upon the sea, to
which they had been long accustomed--was suggested by these
_superaqueous_ habitations; and the name of _Venezuela_ (Little Venice)
was at once bestowed upon the coast, and afterwards applied to the whole
province now known as the Republic of Venezuela.

Though the "water villages" then observed have long since disappeared,
many others of a similar kind were afterwards discovered in Lake
Maracaibo itself, some of which are in existence to the present day.
Besides here and there an isolated habitation, situated in some bay or
"laguna," there are four principal villages upon this plan still in
existence, each containing from fifty to a hundred habitations.  The
inhabitants of some of these villages have been "Christianised," that
is, have submitted to the teaching of the Spanish missionaries; and one
in particular is distinguished by having its little church--a regular
_water_ church--in the centre, built upon piles, just as the rest of the
houses are, and only differing from the common dwellings in being larger
and of a somewhat more pretentious style.  From the belfry of this
curious ecclesiastical edifice a brazen bell may be heard at morn and
eve tolling the "oracion" and "vespers," and declaring over the wide
waters of the lake that the authority of the Spanish monk has replaced
the power of the cazique among the Indians of the Lake Maracaibo.  Not
to all sides of the lake, however, has the cross extended its conquest.
Along its western shore roams the fierce unconquered Goajiro, who, a
true warrior, still maintains his independence; and even encroaches upon
the usurped possessions both of monk and "militario."

The _water-dweller_, however, although of kindred race with the Goajiro,
is very different, both in his disposition and habits of life.  He is
altogether a man of peace, and might almost be termed a civilised
being,--that is, he follows a regular industrial calling, by which he
subsists.  This is the calling of a fisherman, and in no part of the
world could he follow it with more certainty of success, since the
waters which surround his dwelling literally swarm with fish.

Lake Maracaibo has been long noted as the resort of numerous and
valuable species of the finny tribe, in the capture of which the Indian
fisherman finds ample occupation.  He is betimes a fowler,--as we shall
presently see,--and he also sometimes indulges, though more rarely, in
the chase, finding game in the thick forests or on the green savannas
that surround the lake, or border the banks of the numerous "riachos"
(streams) running into it.  On the savanna roams the graceful roebuck
and the "venado," or South-American deer, while along the river banks
stray the capibara and the stout tapir, undisturbed save by their fierce
feline enemies, the puma and spotted jaguar.

But hunting excursions are not a habit of the water Indian, whose
calling, as already observed, is essentially that of a fisherman and
"fowler," and whose subsistence is mainly derived from two kinds of
_water-dwellers_, like himself--one with fins, living below the surface,
and denominated _fish_; another with wings, usually resting _on_ the
surface, and known as _fowl_.  These two creatures, of very different
kinds and of many different species, form the staple and daily food of
the Indian of Maracaibo.

In an account of his habits we stall begin by giving a description of
the mode in which he constructs his singular dwelling.

Like other builders he begins by selecting the site.  This must be a
place where the water is of no great depth; and the farther from the
shore he can find a shallow spot the better for his purpose, for he has
a good reason for desiring to get to a distance from the shore, as we
shall presently see.  Sometimes a sort of subaqueous island, or elevated
sandbank, is found, which gives him the very site he is in search of.
Having pitched upon the spot, his next care is to procure a certain
number of tree-trunks of the proper length and thickness to make
"piles."  Not every kind of timber will serve for this purpose, for
there are not many sorts that would long resist decay and the wear and
tear of the water insects, with which the lake abounds.  Moreover, the
building of one of these aquatic houses, although it be only a rude hut,
is a work of time and labour, and it is desirable therefore to make it
as permanent as possible.  For this reason great care is taken in the
selection of the timber for the "piles."

But it so chances that the forests around the lake furnish the very
thing itself, in the wood of a tree known to the _Spanish inhabitants_
as the "vera," of "palo sano," and to the natives as "guaiac."  It is
one of the zygophyls of the genus _Guaiacum_, of which there are many
species, called by the names of "iron-wood" or "lignum-vitae;" but the
species in question is the _tree_ lignum-vitae (_Guaiacum arboreum_),
which attains to a height of 100 feet, with a fine umbrella-shaped head,
and bright orange flowers.  Its wood is so hard, that it will turn the
edge of an axe, and the natives believe that if it be buried for a
sufficient length of time under the earth it will turn to iron!  Though
this belief is not literally true, as regards the _iron_, it is not so
much of an exaggeration as might be supposed.  The "palo de fierro,"
when buried in the soil of Maracaibo or immersed in the waters of the
lake, in reality does undergo a somewhat similar metamorphose; in other
words, it turns into stone; and the petrified trunks of this wood are
frequently met with along the shores of the lake.  What is still more
singular--the piles of the water-houses often become petrified, so that
the dwelling no longer rests upon wooden posts, but upon real columns of
stone!

Knowing all this by experience, the Indian selects the guaiac for his
uprights, cuts them of the proper length; and then, launching them in
the water, transports them to the site of his dwelling, and fixes them
in their places.

Upon this a platform is erected, out of split boards of some less
ponderous timber, usually the "ceiba," or "silk-cotton tree" (_Bombax
ceiba_), or the "cedro negro" (_Cedrela odorata_) of the order
_Meliaceae_.  Both kinds grow in abundance upon the shores of the
lake,--and the huge trunks of the former are also used by the water
Indian for the constructing of his canoe.

The platform, or floor, being thus established, about two or three feet
above the surface of the water, it then only remains to erect, the walls
and cover them over with a roof.  The former are made of the slightest
materials,--light saplings or bamboo poles,--usually left open at the
interstices.  There is no winter or cold weather here,--why should the
walls be thick?  There are heavy rains, however, at certain seasons of
the year, and these require to be guarded against; but this is not a
difficult matter, since the broad leaves of the "enea" and "vihai" (a
species of _Heliconia_) serve the purpose of a roof just as well as
tiles, slates, or shingles.  Nature in these parts is bountiful, and
provides her human creatures with a spontaneous supply of every want.
Even ropes and cords she furnishes, for binding the beams, joists, and
rafters together, and holding on the thatch against the most furious
assaults of the wind.  The numerous species of creeping and twining
plants ("llianas" or "sipos") serve admirably for this purpose.  They
are applied in their green state, and when contracted by exsiccation
draw the timbers as closely together as if held by spikes of iron.  In
this manner and of such materials does the water Indian build his house.

Why he inhabits such a singular dwelling is a question that requires to
be answered.  With the _terra firma_ close at hand, and equally
convenient for all purposes of his calling, why does he not build his
hut there?  So much easier too of access would it be, for he could then
approach it either by land or by water; whereas, in its present
situation, he can neither go away from his house or get back to it
without the aid of his "periagua" (canoe).  Moreover, by building on the
beach, or by the edge of the woods, he would spare himself the labour of
transporting those heavy piles and setting them in their places,--a
work, as already stated, of no ordinary magnitude.  Is it for personal
security against human enemies,--for this sometimes drives a people to
seek singular situations for their homes?  No; the Indian of Maracaibo
has his human foes, like all other people; but it is none of these that
have forced him to adopt this strange custom.  Other enemies? wild
beasts? the dreaded jaguar, perhaps?  No, nothing of this kind.  And yet
it is in reality a living creature that drives him to this resource,--
that has forced him to flee from the mainland and take to the water for
security against its attack,--a creature of such small dimensions, and
apparently so contemptible in its strength, that you will no doubt smile
at the idea of its putting a strong man to flight,--a little insect
exactly the size of an English gnat, and no bigger, but so formidable by
means of its poisonous bite, and its myriads of numbers, as to render
many parts of the shores of Lake Maracaibo quite uninhabitable.  You
guess, no doubt, the insect to which I allude?  You cannot fail to
recognise it as the _mosquito_?  Just so; it is the mosquito I mean, and
in no part of South America do these insects abound in greater numbers,
and nowhere are they more bloodthirsty than upon the borders of this
great fresh-water sea.  Not only one species of mosquito, but all the
varieties known as "jejens," "zancudos," and "tempraneros," here abound
in countless multitudes,--each kind making its appearance at a
particular hour of the day or night,--"mounting guard" (as the
persecuted natives say of them) in turn, and allowing only short
intervals of respite from their bitter attacks.

Now, it so happens, that although the various kinds of mosquitoes are
peculiarly the productions of a marshy or watery region,--and rarely
found where the soil is high and dry,--yet as rarely do they extend
their excursions to a distance from the land.  They delight to dwell
under the shadow of leaves, or near the herbage of grass, plants, or
trees, among which they were hatched.  They do not stray far from the
shore, and only when the breeze carries them do they fly out over the
open water.  Need I say more?  You have now the explanation why the
Indians of Maracaibo build their dwellings upon the water.  It is simply
to escape from the "plaga de moscas" (the pest of the flies).

Like most other Indians of tropical America, and some even of colder
latitudes, those of Maracaibo go naked, wearing only the _guayueo_, or
"waist-belt."  Those of them, however, who have submitted to the
authority of the monks, have adopted a somewhat more modest garb,--
consisting of a small apron of cotton or palm fibre, suspended from the
waist, and reaching down to their knees.

We have already stated, that the water-dwelling Indian is a fisherman,
and that the waters of the lake supply him with numerous kinds of fish
of excellent quality.  An account of these, with the method employed in
capturing them, may not prove uninteresting.

First, there is the fish known as "liza," a species of skate.  It is of
a brilliant silvery hue, with bluish corruscations.  It is a small fish,
being only about a foot in length, but is excellent to eat, and when
preserved by drying, forms an article of commerce with the West-Indian
islands.  Along the coasts of Cumana and Magarita, there are many people
employed in the _pesca de liza_ (skate-fishery); but although the liza
is in reality a sea fish, it abounds in the fresh waters of Maracaibo,
and is there also an object of industrial pursuit.  It is usually
captured by seines, made out of the fibres of the _cocui aloe_ (_agave
cocuiza_), or of cords obtained from the unexpanded leaflets of the
moriche palm (_Mauritia flexuosa_), both of which useful vegetable
products are indigenous to this region.  The roe of the liza, when dried
in the sun, is an article in high estimation, and finds its way into the
channels of commerce.

A still more delicate fish is the "pargo."  It is of a white colour
tinged with rose; and of these great numbers are also captured.  So,
too, with the "doncella," one of the most beautiful species, as its
pretty name of "doncella" (young maiden) would indicate.  These last are
so abundant in some parts of the lake, that one of its bays is
distinguished by the name of _Laguna de Doncella_.

A large, ugly fish, called the "vagre," with an enormous head and wide
mouth, from each side of which stretches a beard-like appendage, is also
an object of the Indian's pursuit.  It is usually struck with a spear,
or killed by arrows, when it shows itself near the surface of the water.
Another monstrous creature, of nearly circular shape, and full three
feet in diameter, is the "carite," which is harpooned in a similar
fashion.

Besides these there is the "viegita," or "old-woman fish," which itself
feeds upon lesser creatures of the finny tribe, and especially upon the
smaller species of shell-fish.  It has obtained its odd appellation from
a singular noise which it gives forth, and which resembles the voice of
an old woman debilitated with extreme age.

The "dorado," or gilded fish--so called on account of its beautiful
colour--is taken by a hook, with no other bait attached than a piece of
white rag.  This, however, must be kept constantly in motion, and the
bait is played by simply paddling the canoe over the surface of the
lake, until the dorado, attracted by the white meteor, follows in its
track, and eventually hooks itself.

Many other species of fish are taken by the water-Indians, as the
"lebranche" which goes in large "schools," and makes its breeding-place
in the lagunas and up the rivers, and the "guabina," with several kinds
of sardines that find their way into the tin boxes of Europe; for the
Maracaibo fisherman is not contented with an exclusive fish diet.  He
likes a little "casava," or maize-bread, along with it; besides, he has
a few other wants to satisfy, and the means he readily obtains in
exchange for the surplus produce of his nets, harpoons, and arrows.

We have already stated that he is a fowler.  At certain seasons of the
year this is essentially his occupation.  The fowling season with him is
the period of northern winter, when the migratory aquatic birds come
down from the boreal regions of Prince Rupert's Land to disport their
bodies in the more agreeable waters of Lake Maracaibo.  There they
assemble in large flocks, darkening the air with their myriads of
numbers, now fluttering over the lake, or, at other times, seated on its
surface silent and motionless.  Notwithstanding their great numbers,
however, they are too shy to be approached near enough for the "carry"
of an Indian arrow, or a gun either; and were it not for a very cunning
stratagem which the Indian has adopted for their capture, they might
return again to their northern haunts without being minus an individual
of their "count."

But they are not permitted to depart thus unscathed.  During their
sojourn within the limits of Lake Maracaibo their legions get
considerably thinned, and thousands of them that settle down upon its
inviting waters are destined never more to take wing.

To effect their capture, the Indian fowler, as already stated, makes use
of a very ingenious stratagem.  Something similar is described as being
practised in other parts of the world; but in no place is it carried to
such perfection as upon the Lake Maracaibo.

The fowler first provides himself with a number of large gourd-shells of
roundish form, and each of them at least as big as his own skull.  These
he can easily obtain, either from the herbaceous squash (_Cucurbita
lagenaris_) or from the calabash tree (_Crescentia cujete_), both of
which grow luxuriantly on the shores of the lake.  Filling his periagua
with these, he proceeds out into the open water to a certain distance
from the land, or from his own dwelling.  The distance is regulated by
several considerations.  He must reach a place which, at all hours of
the day, the ducks and other waterfowl are not afraid to frequent; and,
on the other hand, he must not go beyond such a depth as will bring the
water higher than his own chin when wading through it.  This last
consideration is not of so much importance, for the water Indian can
swim almost as well as a duck, and dive like one, if need be; but it is
connected with another matter of greater importance--the convenience of
having the birds as near as possible, to save him a too long and
wearisome "wade."  It is necessary to have them so near, that at all
hours they may be under his eye.

Having found the proper situation, which the vast extent of shoal water
(already mentioned) enables him to do, he proceeds to carry out his
design by dropping a gourd here and another there, until a large space
of surface is covered by these floating shells.  Each gourd has a stone
attached to it by means of a string, which, resting upon the bottom,
brings the buoy to an anchor, and prevents it from being drifted into
the deeper water or carried entirely away.

When his decoys are all placed, the Indian paddles back to his platform
dwelling, and there, with watchful eye, awaits the issue.  The birds are
at first shy of these round yellow objects intruded upon their domain;
but, as the hours pass, and they perceive no harm in them, they at
length take courage and venture to approach.  Urged by that curiosity
which is instinctive in every creature, they gradually draw nigher and
nigher, until at length they boldly venture into the midst of the odd
objects and examine them minutely.  Though puzzled to make out what it
is all meant for, they can perceive no harm in the yellow globe-shaped
things that only bob about, but make no attempt to do them any injury.
Thus satisfied, their curiosity soon wears off, and the birds no longer
regarding the floating shells as objects of suspicion, swim freely about
through their midst, or sit quietly on the water side by side with them.

But the crisis has now arrived when it is necessary the Indian should
act, and for this he speedily equips himself.  He first ties a stout
rope around his waist, to which are attached many short strings or
cords.  He then draws over his head a large gourd-shell, which, fitting
pretty tightly, covers his whole skull, reaching down to his neck.  This
shell is exactly similar to the others already floating on the water,
with the exception of having three holes on one side of it, two on the
same level with the Indian's eyes, and the third opposite his mouth,
intended to serve him for a breathing-hole.

He is now ready for work; and, thus oddly accoutred, he slips quietly
down from his platform, and laying himself along the water, swims gently
in the direction of the ducks.

He swims only where the water is too shallow to prevent him from
crouching below the surface; for were he to stand upright, and wade,--
even though he were still distant from them,--the shy birds might have
suspicions about his after-approaches.

When he reaches a point where the lake is sufficiently deep, he gets
upon his feet and wades, still keeping his shoulders below the surface.
He makes his advance very slowly and warily, scarce raising a ripple on
the surface of the placid lake, and the nearer he gets to his intended
victims he proceeds with the greater caution.

The unsuspecting birds see the destroyer approach without having the
slightest misgiving of danger.  They fancy that the new comer is only
another of those inanimate objects by their side--another gourd-shell
drifting out upon the water to join its companions.  They have no
suspicion that this wooden counterfeit--like the horse of Troy--is
inhabited by a terrible enemy.

Poor things! how could they?  A stratagem so well contrived would
deceive more rational intellects than theirs; and, in fact, having no
idea of danger, they perhaps do not trouble themselves even to notice
the new arrival.

Meanwhile the gourd has drifted silently into their midst, and is seen
approaching the odd individuals, first one and afterwards another, as if
it had some special business with each.  This business appears to be of
a very mysterious character; and in each case is abruptly brought to a
conclusion, by the duck making a sudden dive under the water,--not head
foremost, according to its usual practice, but in the reverse way, as if
jerked down by the feet, and so rapidly that the creature has not time
to utter a single "quack."

After quite a number of individuals have disappeared in this mysterious
manner, the others sometimes grow suspicious of the moving calabash, and
either take to wing, or swim off to a less dangerous neighbourhood; but
if the gourd performs its office in a skilful manner, it will be seen
passing several times to and fro between the birds and the water village
before this event takes place.  On each return trip, when far from the
flock, and near the habitations, it will be seen to rise high above the
surface of the water.  It will then be perceived that it covers the
skull of a copper-coloured savage, around whose hips may be observed a
double tier of dead ducks dangling by their necks from the rope upon his
waist, and forming a sort of plumed skirt, the weight of which almost
drags its wearer back into the water.

Of course a capture is followed by a feast; and during the fowling
season of the year the Maracaibo Indian enjoys roast-duck at discretion.
He does not trouble his head much about the green peas, nor is he
particular to have his ducks stuffed with sage and onions; but a hot
seasoning of red pepper is one of the indispensible ingredients of the
South-American _cuisine_; and this he usually obtains from a small patch
of capsicum which he cultivates upon the adjacent shore; or, if he be
not possessed of land, he procures it by barter, exchanging his fowls or
fish for that and a little maize or manioc flour, furnished by the
coast-traders.

The Maracaibo Indian is not a stranger to commerce.  He has been
"Christianised,"--to use the phraseology of his priestly proselytiser,--
and this has introduced him to new wants and necessities.  Expenses that
in his former pagan state were entirely unknown to him, have now become
necessary, and a commercial effort is required to meet them.  The Church
must have its dues.  Such luxuries as being baptised, married, and
buried, are not to be had without expense, and the padre takes good care
that none of these shall be had for nothing.  He has taught his
proselyte to believe that unless all these rites have been officially
performed there is pot the slightest chance for him in the next world;
and under the influence of this delusion, the simple savage willingly
yields up his tenth, his fifth, or, perhaps it would be more correct to
say, his all.  Between fees of baptism and burial, mulcts for
performance of the marriage rite, contributions towards the shows and
ceremonies of _dias de fiesta_, extravagant prices for blessed beads,
leaden crucifixes, and images of patron saints, the poor Christianised
Indian is compelled to part with nearly the whole of his humble gains;
and the fear of not being able to pay for Christian burial after death,
is often one of the torments of his life.

To satisfy the numerous demands of the Church, therefore, he is forced
into a little action in the commercial line.  With the water-dweller of
Maracaibo, fish forms one of the staples of export trade,--of course in
the preserved state, as he is too distant from any great town or
metropolis to be able to make market of them while fresh.  He
understands, however, the mode of curing them,--which he accomplishes by
sun-drying and smoking,--and, thus prepared, they are taken off his
hands by the trader, who carries them all over the West Indies, where,
with boiled rice, they form the staple food of thousands of the
dark-skinned children of Ethiopia.

The Maracaibo Indian, however, has still another resource, which
occasionally supplies him with an article of commercial export.  His
country--that is, the adjacent shores of the lake--produces the finest
_caoutchouc_.  There the India-rubber tree, of more than one species,
flourishes in abundance; and the true "seringa," that yields the finest
and most valuable kind of this gummy juice, is nowhere found in greater
perfection than in the forests of Maracaibo.  The caoutchouc of commerce
is obtained from many other parts of America, as well as from other
tropical countries; but as many of the bottles and shoes so well-known
in the india-rubber shops, are manufactured by the Indians of Maracaibo,
we may not find a more appropriate place to give an account of this
singular production, and the mode by which it is prepared for the
purposes of commerce and manufacture.

As already mentioned, many species of trees yield india-rubber, most of
them belonging either to the order of the "Morads," or _Euphorbiaceae_.
Some are species of _ficus_, but both the genera and species are too
numerous to be given here.  That which supplies the "bottle
india-rubber" is a euphorbiaceous plant,--the _seringa_ above
mentioned,--whose proper botanical appellation is _Siphonia elastica_.
It is a tall, straight, smooth-barked tree, having a trunk of about a
foot in diameter, though in favourable situations reaching to much
larger dimensions.  The process of extracting its sap--out of which the
caoutchouc is manufactured--bears some resemblance to the tapping of
sugar-maples in the forests of the north.

With his small hatchet, or tomahawk, the Indian cuts a gash in the bark,
and inserts into it a little wedge of wood to keep the sides apart.
Just under the gash, he fixes a small cup-shaped vessel of clay, the
clay being still in a plastic state, so that it may be attached closely
to the bark.  Into this vessel the milk-like sap of the _seringa_ soon
commences to run, and keeps on until it has yielded about the fifth of a
pint.  This, however, is not the whole yield of a tree, but only of a
single wound; and it is usual to open a great many gashes, or "taps,"
upon the same trunk, each being furnished with its own cup or receiver.
In from four to six hours the sap ceases to run.

The cups are then detached from the tree, and the contents of all,
poured into a large earthen vessel, are carried to the place where the
process of making the caoutchouc is to take place,--usually some dry
open spot in the middle of the forest, where a temporary camp has been
formed for the purpose.

When the dwelling of the Indian is at a distance from where the
india-rubber tree grows,--as is the case with those of Lake Maracaibo,--
it will not do to transport the sap thither.  There must be no delay
after the cups are filled, and the process of manufacture must proceed
at once, or as soon as the milky juice begins to coagulate,--which it
does almost on the instant.

Previous to reaching his camp, the "seringero" has provided a large
quantity of palm-nuts, with which he intends to make a fire for smoking
the caoutchouc.  These nuts are the fruit of several kinds of palms, but
the best are those afforded by two magnificent species,--the "Inaja"
(_Maximiliana regia_), and the "Urucuri" (_Attalea excelsa_).

A fire is kindled of these nuts; and an earthen pot, with a hole in the
bottom, is placed mouth downward over the pile.  Through the aperture
now rises a strong pungent smoke.

If it is a shoe that is intended to be made, a clay last is already
prepared, with a stick standing out of the top of it, to serve as a
handle, while the operation is going on.  Taking the stick in his hand,
the seringero dips the last lightly into the milk, or with a cup pours
the fluid gently over it, so as to give a regular coating to the whole
surface; and then, holding it over the smoke, he keeps turning it,
jack-fashion, till the fluid has become dry and adhesive.  Another dip
is then given, and the smoking done as before; and this goes on, till
forty or fifty different coats have brought the sides and soles of the
shoe to a proper thickness.  The soles, requiring greater weight, are,
of course, oftener dipped than the "upper leather."

The whole process of making the shoe does not occupy half an hour; but
it has afterwards to receive some farther attention in the way of
ornament; the lines and figures are yet to be executed, and this is done
about two days after the smoking process.  They are simply traced out
with a piece of smooth wire, or oftener with the spine obtained from
some tree,--as the thorny point of the _bromelia_ leaf.

In about a week the shoes are ready to be taken from the last; and this
is accomplished at the expense and utter ruin of the latter, which is
broken into fragments, and then cleaned out.  Water is used sometimes to
soften the last, and the inner surface of the shoe is washed after the
clay has been taken out.

Bottles are made precisely in the same manner,--a round ball, or other
shaped mass of clay, serving as the mould for their construction.  It
requires a little more trouble to get the mould extracted from the
narrow neck of the bottle.

It may be remarked that it is not the smoke of the palm-nuts that gives
to the india-rubber its peculiar dark colour; that is the effect of age.
When freshly manufactured, it is still of a whitish or cream colour;
and only attains the dark hue after it has been kept for a considerable
time.

We might add many other particulars about the mode in which the Indian
of Maracaibo employs his time, but perhaps enough has been said to show
that his existence is altogether an _odd_ one.



CHAPTER FOUR.

THE ESQUIMAUX.

The Esquimaux are emphatically an "odd people," perhaps the oddest upon
the earth.  The peculiar character of the regions they inhabit has
naturally initiated them into a system of habits and modes of life
different from those of any other people on the face of the globe; and
from the remoteness and inaccessibility of the countries in which they
dwell, not only have they remained an unmixed people, but scarce any
change has taken place in their customs and manners during the long
period since they were first known to civilised nations.

The Esquimaux people have been long known and their habits often
described.  Our first knowledge of them was obtained from Greenland,--
for the native inhabitants of Greenland are true Esquimaux,--and
hundreds of years ago accounts of them were given to the world by the
Danish colonists and missionaries--and also by the whalers who visited
the coasts of that inhospitable land.  In later times they have been
made familiar to us through the Arctic explorers and whale-fishers, who
have traversed the labyrinth of icy islands that extend northward from
the continent of America.  The Esquimaux may boast of possessing the
longest country in the world.  In the first place, Greenland is theirs,
and they are found along the western shores of Baffin's Bay.  In North
America proper their territory commences at the straits of Belle Isle,
which separate Newfoundland from Labrador, and thence extends all around
the shore of the Arctic Ocean, not only to Behring's Straits, but beyond
these, around the Pacific coast of Russian America, as far south as the
great mountain Saint Elias.  Across Behring's Straits they are found
occupying a portion of the Asiatic coast, under the name of Tchutski,
and some of the islands in the northern angle of the Pacific Ocean are
also inhabited by these people, though under a different name.
Furthermore, the numerous ice islands which lie between North America
and the Pole are either inhabited or visited by Esquimaux to the highest
point that discovery has yet reached.

There can be little doubt that the Laplanders of northern Europe, and
the Samoyedes, and other littoral peoples dwelling along the Siberian
shores, are kindred races of the Esquimaux; and taking this view of the
question, it may be said that the latter possess all the line of coast
of both continents facing northward; in other words, that their country
extends around the globe--though it cannot be said (as is often
boastingly declared of the British empire) that "the sun never sets upon
it;" for, over the "empire" of the Esquimaux, the sun not only sets, but
remains out of sight of it for months at a time.

It is not usual, however, to class the Laplanders and _Asiatic Arctic_
people with the Esquimaux.  There are some essential points of
difference; and what is here said of the Esquimaux relates only to those
who inhabit the northern coasts and islands of America, and to the
native Greenlanders.

Notwithstanding the immense extent of territory thus designated,
notwithstanding the sparseness of the Esquimaux population, and the vast
distances by which one little tribe or community is separated from
another, the absolute similarity in their habits, in their physical and
intellectual conformation, and, above all, in their languages, proves
incontestably that they are all originally of one and the same race.

Whatever, therefore, may be said of a "Schelling," or native
Greenlander, will be equally applicable to an Esquimaux of Labrador, to
an Esquimaux of the Mackenzie River or Behring's Straits, or we might
add, to a Khadiak islander, or a Tuski of the opposite Asiatic coast;
always taking into account such differences of costume, dialect, modes
of life, etc, as may be brought about by the different circumstances in
which they are placed.  In all these things, however, they are
wonderfully alike; their dresses, weapons, boats, houses, and house
implements, being almost the same in material and construction from East
Greenland to the Tchutskoi Noss.

If their country be the longest in the world, it is also the
_narrowest_.  Of course, if we take into account the large islands that
thickly stud the Arctic Ocean, it may be deemed broad enough; but I am
speaking rather of the territory which they possess on the continents.
This may be regarded as a mere strip following the outline of the coast,
and never extending beyond the distance of a day's journey inland.
Indeed, they only seek the interior in the few short weeks of summer,
for the purpose of hunting the reindeer, the musk-ox, and other animals;
after each excursion, returning again to the shores of the sea, where
they have their winter-houses and more permanent home.  They are, truly
and emphatically, a _littoral_ people, and it is to the sea they look
for their principal means of support.  But for this source of supply,
they could not long continue to exist upon land altogether incapable of
supplying the wants even of the most limited population.

The name _Esquimaux_--or, as it is sometimes written, "Eskimo,"--like
many other national appellations, is of obscure origin.  It is supposed
to have been given to them by the Canadian voyageurs in the employ of
the Hudson's Bay Company, and derived from the words _Ceux qui miaux_
(those who mew), in relation to their screaming like cats.  But the
etymology is, to say the least, _suspicious_.  They generally call
themselves "Inuit" (pronounced enn-oo-eet), a word which signifies
"men;"--though different tribes of them have distinct tribal
appellations.

In personal appearance they cannot be regarded as at all prepossessing--
though some of the younger men and girls, when cleansed of the filth and
grease with which their skin is habitually coated, are far from
ill-looking.  Their natural colour is not much darker than that of some
of the southern nations of Europe--the Portuguese, for instance--and the
young girls often have blooming cheeks, and a pleasing expression of
countenance.  Their faces are generally of a broad, roundish shape, the
forehead and chin both narrow and receding, and the cheeks very
prominent, though not angular.  On the contrary, they are rather fat and
round.  This prominence of the cheeks gives to their nose the appearance
of being low and flat; and individuals are often seen with such high
cheeks, that a ruler laid from one to the other would not touch the
bridge of the nose between them!

As they grow older their complexion becomes darker, perhaps from
exposure to the climate.  Very naturally, too, both men and women grow
uglier, but especially the latter, some of whom in old age present such
a hideous aspect, that the early Arctic explorers could not help
characterising them as _witches_.

The average stature of the Esquimaux is far below that of European
nations, though individuals are sometimes met with nearly six feet in
height.  These, however, are rare exceptions; and an Esquimaux of such
proportions would be a giant among his people.  The more common height
is from four feet eight inches to five feet eight; and the women are
still shorter, rarely attaining the standard of five feet.  The
shortness of both men and women appears to be a deficiency in length of
limb, for their bodies are long enough; but, as the Esquimaux is almost
constantly in his canoe, or "kayak," or upon his dog-sledge, his legs
have but little to do, and are consequently stunted in their
development.

A similar peculiarity is presented by the Comanche, and other Indians of
the prairies, and also in the Guachos and Patagonian Indians, of the
South-American Pampas, who spend most of their time on the backs of
their horses.

The Esquimaux have no religion, unless we dignify by that name a belief
in witches, sorcerers, "Shamans," and good or evil spirits, with, some
confused notion of a good and bad place hereafter.  Missionary zeal has
been exerted among them almost in vain.  They exhibit an apathetic
indifference to the teachings of Christianity.

Neither have they any political organisation; and in this respect they
differ essentially from most savages known, the lowest of whom have
usually their chiefs and councils of elders.  This absence of all
government, however, is no proof of their being lower in the scale of
civilisation than other savages; but, perhaps, rather the contrary, for
the very idea of chiefdom, or government, is a presumption of the
existence of vice among a people, and the necessity of coercion and
repression.  To one another these rude people are believed to act in the
most honest manner; and it could be shown that such was likewise their
behaviour towards strangers until they were corrupted by excessive
temptation.  All Arctic voyagers record instances of what they term
petty theft, on the part of certain tribes of Esquimaux,--that is, the
pilfering of nails, hatchets, pieces of iron-hoops, etc,--but it might
be worth while reflecting that these articles are, in the eyes of the
Esquimaux, what ingots of gold are are to Europeans, and worth while
inquiring if a few bars of the last-mentioned metal were laid loosely
and carelessly upon the pavements of London, how long they would be in
changing their owners?  Theft should be regarded along with the amount
of temptation; and it appears even in these recorded cases that only a
few of the Esquimaux took part in it.  I apprehend that something more
than a few Londoners would be found picking up the golden ingots.  How
many thieves have we among us, with no greater temptation than a cheap
cotton kerchief?--more than a few, it is to be feared.

In truth, the Esquimaux are by no means the savages they have been
represented.  The only important point in which they at all assimilate
to the purely savage state is in the filthiness of their persons, and
perhaps also in the fact of their eating much of their food (fish and
flesh-meat) in a raw state.  For the latter habit, however, they are
partially indebted to the circumstances in which they are placed--fires
or cookery being at times altogether impossible.  They are not the only
people who have been forced to eat raw flesh; and Europeans who have
travelled in that inhospitable country soon get used to the practice, at
the same time getting quite cured of their _degout_ for it.

It is certainly not correct to characterise the Esquimaux as mere
_savages_.  On the contrary, they may be regarded as a civilised people,
that is, so far as civilisation is permitted by the rigorous climate in
which they live; and it would be safe to affirm that a colony of the
most polished people in Europe, established as the Esquimaux are, and
left solely to their own resources, would in a single generation exhibit
a civilisation not one degree higher than that now met with among the
Esquimaux.  Indeed, the fact is already established: the Danish and
Norwegian colonists of West Greenland, though backed by constant
intercourse with their mother-land, are but little more civilised than
the "Skellings," who are their neighbours.

In reality, the Esquimaux have made the most of the circumstances in
which they are placed, and continue to do so.  Among them _agriculture_
is impossible, else they would long since have taken to it.  So too is
commerce; and as to manufactures, it is doubtful whether Europeans could
excel them under like circumstances.  Whatever raw material their
country produces, is by them both strongly and neatly fabricated, as
indicated by the surprising skill with which they make their dresses,
their boats, their implements for hunting and fishing; and in these
accomplishments--the only ones practicable under their hyperborean
heaven--they are perfect adepts.  In such arts civilised Europeans are
perfect simpletons to them, and the theories of fireside speculators, so
lately promulgated in our newspapers, that Sir John Franklin and his
crew could not fail to procure a living where the simple Esquimaux were
able to make a home, betrayed only ignorance of the condition of these
people.  In truth, white men would starve, where the Esquimaux could
live in luxurious abundance, so far superior to ours is their knowledge
both of fishing and the chase.  It is a well-recorded fact, that while
our Arctic voyagers, at their winter stations, provided with good guns,
nets, and every appliance, could but rarely kill a reindeer or capture a
seal, the Esquimaux obtained both in abundance, and apparently without
an effort; and we shall presently note the causes of their superiority
in this respect.

The very dress of the Esquimaux is a proof of their superiority over
other savages.  At no season of the year do they go either naked, or
even "ragged."  They have their changes to suit the seasons,--their
summer dress, and one of a warmer kind for winter.  Both are made in a
most complicated manner; and the preparation of the material, as well as
the manner by which it is put together, prove the Esquimaux women--for
they are alike the tailors and dressmakers--to be among the best
seamstresses in the world.

Captain Lyon, one of the most observant of Arctic voyagers, has given a
description of the costume of the Esquimaux of Savage Island, and those
of Repulse Bay, where he wintered, and his account is so graphic and
minute in details, that it would be idle to alter a word of his
language.  His description, with slight differences in make and
material, will answer pretty accurately for the costume of the whole
race.

"The clothes of both sexes are principally composed of fine and
well-prepared reindeer pelts; the skins of bears, seals, wolves, foxes,
and marmottes, are also used.  The sealskins are seldom employed for any
part of the dress except boots and shoes, as being more capable of
resisting water, and of far greater durability than other leather.

"The general winter dress of the men is an ample outer coat of
deer-skin, having no opening in front, and a large hood, which is drawn
over the head at pleasure.  This hood is invariably bordered with white
fur from the thighs of the deer, and thus presents a lively contrast to
the dark face which it encircles.  The front or belly part of the coat
is cut off square with the upper part of the thighs, but behind it is
formed into a broad skirt, rounded at the lower end, which reaches to
within a few inches of the ground.  The lower edges and tails of these
dresses are in some cases bordered with bands of fur of an opposite
colour to the body; and it is a favourite ornament to hang a fringe of
little strips of skin beneath the border.  The embellishments give a
very pleasing appearance to the dress.  It is customary in blowing
weather to tie a piece of skin or cord tight round the waist of the
coat; but in other cases the dress hangs loose.

"Within the covering I have just described is another, of precisely the
same form; but though destitute of ornaments of leather, it has
frequently little strings of beads hanging to it from the shoulders or
small of the back.  This dress is of thinner skin, and acts as a shirt,
the hairy part being placed near the body: it is the indoors habit.
When walking, the tail is tied up by two strings to the back, so that it
may not incommode the legs.  Besides these two coats, they have also a
large cloak, or, in fact, an open deer-skin, with sleeves: this, from
its size, is more frequently used as a blanket; and I but once saw it
worn by a man at the ship, although the women throw it over their
shoulders to shelter themselves and children while sitting on the
sledge.

"The trowsers, which are tightly tied round the loins, have no
waistbands, but depend entirely by the drawing-string; they are
generally of deer-skin, and ornamented in the same manner as the coats.
One of the most favourite patterns is an arrangement of the skins of
deer's legs, so as to form very pretty stripes.  As with the jackets,
there are two pair of these indispensables, reaching no lower than the
knee-cap, which is a cause of great distress in cold weather, as that
part is frequently severely frost-bitten; yet, with all their experience
of this bad contrivance, they will not add an inch to the established
length.

"The boots reach to the bottom of the breeches, which hang loosely over
them.  In these, as in other parts of the dress, are many varieties of
colour, material, and pattern, yet in shape they never vary.  The
general winter boots are of deer-skin; one having the hair next the leg,
and the other with the fur outside.  A pair of soft slippers of the same
kind are worn between the two pair of boots, and outside of all a strong
sealskin shoe is pulled to the height of the ankle, where it is tightly
secured by a drawing-string.  For hunting excursions, or in summer when
the country is thawed, one pair of boots only is worn.  They are of
sealskin, and so well sewed and prepared without the hair, that although
completely saturated, they allow no water to pass through them.  The
soles are generally of the tough hide of the walrus, or of the large
seal called Oo-ghioo, so that the feet are well protected in walking
over rough ground.  Slippers are sometimes worn outside.  In both cases
the boots are tightly fastened round the instep with a thong of leather.
The mittens in common use are of deer-skin, with the hair inside; but,
in fact, every kind of skin is used for them.  They are extremely
comfortable when dry; but if once wetted and frozen again, in the winter
afford as little protection to the hands as a case of ice would do.  In
summer, and in fishing, excellent sealskin mittens are used, and have
the same power of resisting water as the boots of which I have just
spoken.  The dresses I have just described are chiefly used in winter.
During the summer it is customary to wear coats, boots, and even
breeches, composed of the prepared skins of ducks, with the feathers
next the body.  These are comfortable, light, and easily prepared.  The
few ornaments in their possession are worn by the men.  These are some
bandeaus which encircle the head, and are composed of various-coloured
leather, plaited in a mosaic pattern, and in some cases having human
hair woven in them, as a contrast to the white skins.  From the lower
edge foxes' teeth hang suspended, arranged as a fringe across the
forehead.  Some wear a musk-ox tooth, a bit of ivory, or a small piece
of bone.

"The clothing of the women is of the same materials as that of the men,
but in shape almost every part is different from the male dress.  An
inner jacket is worn next the skin, and the fur of the other is outside.
The hind-flap, or tail, is of the same form before described, but there
is also a small flap in front, extending about halfway down the thigh.
The coats have each an immense hood, which, as well as covering the
head, answers the purpose of a child's cradle for two or three years
after the birth of an infant.  In order to keep the burden of the child
from drawing the dress tight across the throat, a contrivance, in a
great measure resembling the slings of a soldier's knapsack, is affixed
to the collar or neck part, whence it passes beneath the hood, crosses,
and, being brought under the arms, is secured on each side the breast by
a wooden button.  The shoulders of the women's coat have a bag-like
space, for the purpose of facilitating the removal of the child from the
hood round to the breast without taking it out of the jacket.

"A girdle is sometimes worn round the waist: it answers the double
purposes of comfort and ornament; being composed of what they consider
valuable trinkets, such as foxes' bones (those of the rableeaghioo), or
sometimes of the ears of deer, which hang in pairs to the number of
twenty or thirty, and are trophies of the skill of the hunter, to whom
the wearer is allied.  The inexpressibles of the women are in the some
form as those of the men, but they are not ornamented by the same
curious arrangement of colours; the front part is generally of white,
and the back of dark fur.  The manner of securing them at the waist is
also the same; but the drawing-strings are of much greater length, being
suffered to hang down by one side, and their ends are frequently
ornamented with some pendent jewel, such as a grinder or two of the
musk-ox, a piece of ivory, a small ball of wood, or a perforated stone.

"The boots of the fair sex are, without dispute, the most extraordinary
part of their equipment, and are of such an immense size as to resemble
leather sacks, and to give a most deformed, and, at the same time,
ludicrous appearance to the whole figure, the bulky part being at the
knee; the upper end is formed into a pointed flap, which, covering the
front of the thigh, is secured by a button or knot within the waistband
of the breeches.

"Some of these ample articles of apparel are composed with considerable
taste, of various-coloured skins; they also have them of parchment,--
seals' leather.  Two pairs are worn; and the feet have also a pair of
sealskin slippers, which fit close, and are tightly tied round the
ankle.

"Children have no kind of clothing, but lie naked in their mothers'
hoods until two or three years of age, when they are stuffed into a
little dress, generally of fawn-skin, which has jacket and breeches in
one, the back part being open; into these they are pushed, when a string
or two closes all up again.  A cap forms an indispensable part of the
equipment, and is generally of some fantastical shape; the skin of a
fawn's head is a favourite material in the composition, and is sometimes
seen with the ears perfect; the nose and holes for the eyes lying along
the crown of the wearer's head, which in consequence, looks like that of
an animal."

The same author also gives a most graphic description of the curious
winter dwellings of the Esquimaux, which on many parts of the coast are
built out of the only materials to be had,--_ice and snow_!  Snow for
the walls and ice for the windows! you might fancy the house of the
Esquimaux to be a very cold dwelling; such, however, is by no means its
character.

"The entrance to the dwellings," says Captain Lyon, "was by a hole,
about a yard in diameter, which led through a low-arched passage of
sufficient breadth for two to pass in a stooping posture, and about
sixteen feet in length; another hole then presented itself, and led
through a similarly-shaped, but shorter passage, having at its
termination a round opening, about two feet across.  Up this hole we
crept one step, and found ourselves in a dome about seven feet in
height, and as many in diameter, from whence the three dwelling-places,
with arched roofs, were entered.  It must be observed that this is the
description of a large hut, the smaller ones, containing one or two
families, have the domes somewhat differently arranged.

"Each dwelling might be averaged at fourteen or sixteen feet in diameter
by six or seven in height, but as snow alone was used in their
construction, and was always at hand, it might be supposed that there
was no particular size, that being of course at the option of the
builder.  The laying of the arch was performed in such a manner as would
have satisfied the most regular artist, the key-piece on the top, being
a large square slab.  The blocks of snow used in the buildings were from
four to six inches in thickness, and about a couple of feet in length,
carefully pared with a large knife.  Where two families occupied a dome,
a seat was raised on either side, two feet in height.  These raised
places were used as beds, and covered in the first place with whalebone,
sprigs of andromeda, or pieces of sealskin, over these were spread
deer-pelts and deer-skin clothes, which had a very warm appearance.  The
pelts were used as blankets, and many of them had ornamental fringes of
leather sewed round their edges.

"Each dwelling-place was illumined by a broad piece of transparent
fresh-water ice, of about two feet in diameter, which formed part of the
roof, and was placed over the door.  These windows gave a most pleasing
light, free from glare, and something like that which is thrown through
ground glass.  We soon learned that the building of a house was but the
work of an hour or two, and that a couple of men--one to cut the slabs
and the other to lay them--were labourers sufficient.

"For the support of the lamps and cooking apparatus, a mound of snow is
erected for each family; and when the master has two wives or a mother,
both have an independent place, one at each end of the bench.

"I find it impossible to attempt describing everything at a second
visit, and shall therefore only give an account of those articles of
furniture which must be always the same, and with which, in five
minutes, any one might be acquainted.  A frame, composed of two or three
broken fishing-spears, supported in the first place a large hoop of wood
or bone, across which an open-meshed, and ill-made net was spread or
worked for the reception of wet or damp clothes, skins, etc, which could
be dried by the heat of the lamp.  On this contrivance the master of
each hut placed his gloves on entering, first carefully clearing them of
snow.

"From the frame above mentioned, one or more coffin-shaped stone pots
were suspended over lamps of the same material, crescent-shaped, and
having a ridge extending along their back; the bowl part was filled with
blubber, and the oil and wicks were ranged close together along the
edge.  The wicks were made of moss and trimmed by a piece of asbestos,
stone, or wood; near at hand a large bundle of moss was hanging for a
future supply.  The lamps were supported by sticks, bones, or pieces of
horn, at a sufficient height to admit an oval pot of wood or whalebone
beneath, in order to catch any oil that might drop from them.  The lamps
varied considerably in size, from two feet to six inches in length, and
the pots were equally irregular, holding from two or three gallons to
half a pint.  Although I have mentioned a kind of scaffolding, these
people did not all possess so grand an establishment, many being
contented to suspend their pot to a piece of bone stuck in the wall of
the hut.  One young woman was quite a caricature in this way: she was
the inferior wife of a young man, whose senior lady was of a large size,
and had a corresponding lamp, etc, at one corner; while she herself,
being short and fat, had a lamp the size of half a dessert-plate, and a
pot which held a pint only.

"Almost every family was possessed of a large wooden tray, resembling
those used by butchers in England; its offices, however, as we soon
perceived, were more various, some containing raw flesh of seals and
blubber, and others, skins, which were steeping in urine.  A quantity of
variously-sized bowls of whalebone, wood, or skin, completed the list of
vessels, and it was evident that they were made to contain _anything_."

The Esquimaux use two kinds of boats,--the "oomiak" and "kayak."  The
oomiak is merely a large species of punt, used exclusively by the women;
but the kayak is a triumph in the art of naval architecture, and is as
elegant as it is ingenious.  It is about twenty-five feet in length, and
less than two in breadth of beam.  In shape it has been compared to a
weaver's shuttle, though it tapers much more elegantly than this piece
of machinery.  It is decked from stem to stern, excepting a circular
hole very nearly amidships, and this round hatchway is just large enough
to admit the body of an Esquimaux in a sitting posture.  Around the rim
of the circle is a little ridge, sometimes higher in front than at the
back, and this ridge is often ornamented with a hoop of ivory.  A flat
piece of wood runs along each side of the frame, and is, in fact, the
only piece of any strength in a kayak.  Its depth in the centre is four
or five inches, and its thickness about three fourths of an inch; it
tapers to a point at the commencement of the stem and stern projections.
Sixty-four ribs are fastened to this gunwale piece; seven slight rods
run the whole length of the bottom and outside the ribs.  The bottom is
rounded, and has no keel; twenty-two little beams or cross-pieces keep
the frame on a stretch above, and one strong batten runs along the
centre, from stem to stern, being, of course, discontinued at the seat
part.  The ribs are made of ground willow, also of whalebone, or, if it
can be procured, of good-grained wood.  The whole contrivance does not
weigh over fifty or sixty pounds; so that a man easily carries his kayak
on his head, which, by the form of the rim, he can do without the
assistance of his hands.

An Esquimaux prides himself in the neat appearance of his boat, and has
a warm skin placed in its bottom to sit on.  His posture is with the
legs pointed forward, and he cannot change his position without the
assistance of another person; in all cases where a weight is to be
lifted, an alteration of stowage, or any movement to be made, it is
customary for two kayaks to lie together; and the paddle of each being
placed across the other, they form a steady double boat.  An inflated
seal's bladder forms, invariably, part of the equipage of a canoe, and
the weapons are confined in their places by small lines of whalebone,
stretched tightly across the upper covering, so as to receive the points
or handles of the spears beneath them.  Flesh is frequently stowed
within the stem or stern, as are also birds and eggs; but a seal,
although round, and easily made to roll, is so neatly balanced on the
upper part of the boat as seldom to require a lashing.  When Esquimaux
are not paddling, their balance must be nicely preserved, and a
trembling motion is always observable in the boat.  The most difficult
position for managing a kayak is when going before the wind, and with a
little swell running.  Any inattention would instantly; by exposing the
broadside, overturn this frail vessel.  The dexterity with which they
are turned, the velocity of their way, and the extreme elegance of form
of the kayaks, render an Esquimaux of the highest interest when sitting
independently, and urging his course towards his prey.

"The paddle is double-bladed, nine feet three inches in length, small at
the grasp, and widening to four inches at the blades, which are thin,
and edged with ivory for strength as well as ornament.

"The next object of importance to the boat is the sledge, which finds
occupation during at least three fourths of the year.  A man who
possesses both this and a canoe is considered a person of property.  To
give a particular description of the sledge would be impossible, as
there are no two actually alike; and the materials of which they are
composed are as various as their form.  The best are made of the
jaw-bones of the whale, sawed to about two inches in thickness, and in
depth from six inches to a foot.  These are the runners, and are shod
with a thin plank of the same material; the side-pieces are connected by
means of bones, pieces of wood, or deers' horns, lashed across, with a
few inches space between each, and they yield to any great strain which
the sledge may receive.  The general breadth of the upper part of the
sledge is about twenty inches; but the runners lean inwards, and
therefore at bottom it is rather greater.  The length of bone sledges is
from four feet to fourteen.  Their weight is necessarily great; and one
of moderate size, that is to say, about ten or twelve feet, was found to
be two hundred and seventeen pounds.  The skin of the walrus is very
commonly used during the coldest part of the winter, as being
hard-frozen, and resembling an inch board, with ten times the strength,
for runners.  Another ingenious contrivance is, by casing moss and earth
in seal's skin, so that by pouring a little water, a round hard bolster
is easily formed.  Across all these kinds of runners there is the same
arrangement of bones, sticks, etc, on the upper part; and the surface
which passes over the snow is coated with ice, by mixing snow with fresh
water, which assists greatly in lightening the load for the dogs, as it
slides forwards with ease.  Boys frequently amuse themselves by yoking
several dogs to a small piece of seal's skin, and sitting on it, holding
by the traces.  Their plan is then to set off at full speed, and he who
bears the greatest number of bumps before he relinquishes his hold is
considered a very fine fellow.

"The Esquimaux possess various kinds of spears, but their difference is
chiefly in consequence of the substances of which they are composed, and
not in their general form.

"One called ka-te-teek, is a large and strong-handled spear, with an
ivory point made for despatching any wounded animal in the water.  It is
never thrown, but has a place appropriated for it on the kayak.

"The oonak is a lighter kind than the former; also ivory-headed.  It has
a bladder fastened to it, and has a loose head with a line attached;
this being darted into an animal, is instantly liberated from the handle
which gives the impetus.  Some few of these weapons are constructed of
the solid ivory of the unicorn's horn, about four feet in length, and
remarkably well-rounded and polished.

"Ip-poo-too-yoo, is another kind of hand-spear, varying but little from
the one last described.  It has, however, no appendages.

"The Noogh-wit is of two kinds; but both are used for striking birds,
young animals, or fish.  The first has a double fork at the extremity,
and there are three other barbed ones at about half its length,
diverging in different directions, so that if the end pair should miss,
some of the centre ones might strike.  The second kind has only three
barbed forks at the head.  All the points are of ivory, and the natural
curve of the walrus tusk favours and facilitates their construction.

"Amongst the minor instruments of the ice-hunting are a long bone feeler
for plumbing any cracks through which seals are suspected of breathing,
and also for trying the safety of the road.  Another contrivance is
occasionally used with the same effect as the float of a fishing-line.
Its purpose it to warn the hunter, who is watching a seal-hole, when the
animal rises to the surface, so that he may strike without seeing, or
being seen, by his prey.  This is a most delicate little rod of bone or
ivory, of about a foot in length, and the thickness of a fine
knitting-needle.  At the lower end is a small knob like a pin's head,
and the upper extremity has a fine piece of sinew tied to it, so as to
fasten it loosely to the side of the hole.  The animal, on rising, does
not perceive so small an object hanging in the water, and pushes it up
with his nose, when the watchful Esquimaux, observing his little beacon
in motion, strikes down, and secures his prize.

"Small ivory pegs or pins are used to stop the holes made by the spears
in the animal's body; thus the blood, a great luxury to the natives, is
saved.

"The same want of wood which renders it necessary to find substitutes in
the construction of spears, also occasions the great variety of bows.
The horn of the musk-ox, thinned horns of deer, or other bony
substances, are as frequently used or met with as wood, in the
manufacture of these weapons, in which elasticity is a secondary
consideration.  Three or four pieces of horn or wood are frequently
joined together in one bow,--the strength lying alone in a vast
collection of small plaited sinews; these, to the number of perhaps a
hundred, run down the back of the bow, and being quite tight, and having
the spring of catgut, cause the weapon, when unstrung, to turn the wrong
way; when bent, their united strength and elasticity are amazing.  The
bowstring is of fifteen to twenty plaits, each loose from the other, but
twisted round when in use, so that a few additional turns will at any
time alter its length.  The general length of the bows is about three
feet and a half.

"The arrows are short, light, and formed according to no general rule as
to length or thickness.  A good one has half the shaft of bone, and a
head of hard slate, or a small piece of iron; others have
sharply-pointed bone heads: none are barbed.  Two feathers are used for
the end, and are tied opposite each other, with the flat sides parallel.
A neatly-formed case contains the bow and a few arrows.  Sealskin is
preferred for this purpose, as more effectually resisting the wet than
any other.  A little bag, which is attached to the side, contains a
stone for sharpening, and some spare arrow-heads carefully wrapped up in
a piece of skin.

"The bow is held in a horizontal position, and though capable of great
force, is rarely used at a greater distance than from twelve to twenty
yards."

Their houses, clothing, sledges, boats, utensils, and arms, being now
described, it only remains to be seen in what manner these most singular
people pass their time, how they supply themselves with food, and how
they manage to support life during the long dark winter, and the scarce
less hospitable summer of their rigorous clime.  Their occupations from
year to year are carried on with an almost unvarying regularity, though,
like their dresses, they change according to the season.

Their short summer is chiefly employed in hunting the reindeer, and
other quadrupeds,--for the simple reason that it is at this season that
these appear in greatest numbers among them, migrating northward as the
snow thaws from the valleys and hill-sides.  Not but that they also kill
the reindeer in other seasons, for these animals do not all migrate
southward on the approach of winter, a considerable number remaining all
the year upon the shores of the Arctic Sea, as well as the islands to
the north of them.  Of course, the Esquimaux kills a reindeer when and
where he can; and it may be here remarked, that in no part of the
American continent has the reindeer been trained or domesticated as
among the Laplanders and the people of Russian Asia.  Neither the
Northern Indians (Tinne) nor the Esquimaux have ever reached this degree
in domestic civilisation, and this fact is one of the strongest points
of difference between the American Esquimaux and their kindred races in
the north of Asia.  One tribe of true Esquimaux alone hold the reindeer
in subjection, viz the Tuski, already mentioned, on the Asiatic shore;
and it might easily be shown that the practice reached them from the
contiguous countries of northern Asia.  The American Esquimaux, like
those of Greenland, possess only the dog as a domesticated animal; and
him they have trained to draw their sledges in a style that exhibits the
highest order of skill, and even elegance.  The Esquimaux dog is too
well-known to require particular description.  He is often brought to
this country in the return ships of Arctic whalers and voyagers; and his
thick, stout body covered closely with long stiff hair of a whitish or
yellowish colour, his cocked ears and smooth muzzle, and, above all, the
circle-like curling of his bushy tail, will easily be remembered by any
one who has ever seen this valuable animal.

In summer, then, the Esquimaux desert their winter houses upon the
shore, and taking with them their tents make an excursion into the
interior.  They do not go far from the sea--no farther than is necessary
to find the valleys browsed by the reindeer, and the fresh-water lakes,
which, at this season, are frequented by flocks of swans, geese of
various kinds, ducks, and other aquatic birds.  Hunting the reindeer
forms their principal occupation at this time; but, of course, "all is
fish that comes into the net" of an Esquimaux; and they also employ
themselves in capturing the wild fowl and the fresh-water fish, in which
these lakes abound.  With the wild fowl it is the breeding and moulting
season, and the Esquimaux not only rob them of their eggs, but take
large numbers of the young before they are sufficiently fledged to
enable them to fly, and also the old ones while similarly incapacitated
from their condition of "moult."  In their swift kayaks which they have
carried with them on their heads, they can pursue the fluttering flocks
over any part of a lake, and overtake them wherever they may go.  This
is a season of great plenty in the larder of the _Inuit_.

The fresh-water fish are struck with spears out of the kayaks, or, when
there is ice on the water strong enough to bear the weight of a man, the
fish are captured in a different manner.  A hole is broken in the ice,
the broken fragments are skimmed off and cast aside, and then the
fisherman lets down a shining bauble--usually the white tooth of some
animal--to act as a bait.  This he keeps bobbing about until the fish,
perceiving it afar off through the translucent water, usually approaches
to reconnoitre, partly from curiosity, but more, perhaps, to see if it
be anything to eat.  When near enough the Esquimaux adroitly pins the
victim with his fish spear, and lands it upon the ice.  This species of
fishing is usually delivered over to the boys--the time of the hunters
being too valuable to be wasted in waiting for the approach of the fish
to the decoy, an event of precarious and uncertain occurrence.

In capturing the reindeer, the Esquimaux practises no method very
different from that used by "still hunters" in other parts of America.
He has to depend alone upon his bow and arrows, but with these poor
weapons he contrives to make more havoc among a herd of deer than would
a backwoods hunter with his redoubtable rifle.  There is no mystery
about his superior management.  It consists simply in the exhibition of
the great strategy and patience with which he makes his approaches,
crawling from point to point and using every available cover which the
ground may afford.

But all this would be of little avail were it not for a _ruse_ which he
puts in practice, and which brings the unsuspecting deer within reach of
his deadly arrows.  This consists in a close imitation of the cries of
the animal, so close that the sharp-eared creature itself cannot detect
the counterfeit, but, drawing nearer and nearer to the rock or bush from
which the call appears to proceed, falls a victim to the deception.  The
silent arrow makes no audible sound; the herd, if slightly disturbed at
seeing one of their number fall, soon compose themselves, and go on
browsing upon the grass or licking up the lichen.  Another is attracted
by the call, and another, who fall in their turn victims either to their
curiosity or the instinct of amorous passions.

For this species of hunting, the bow far excels any other weapon; even
the rifle is inferior to it.

Sometimes the Esquimaux take the deer in large numbers, by hunting them
with dogs, driving the herd into some defile or _cul de sac_ among the
rocks, and then killing them at will with their arrows and javelins.
This, however, is an exceptional case, as such natural "pounds" are not
always at hand.  The Indians farther south construct artificial
enclosures; but in the Esquimaux country there is neither time nor
material for such elaborate contrivances.

The Esquimaux who dwell in those parts frequented by the musk-oxen, hunt
these animals very much as they do the reindeer; but killing a musk
bull, or cow either, Is a feat of far grander magnitude, and requires
more address than shooting a tiny deer.

I have said that the Esquimaux do not, even in these hunting excursions,
stray very far into the interior.  There is a good reason for their
keeping close to the seashore.  Were they to penetrate far into the land
they would be in danger of meeting with their _bitter_ foemen, the
_Tinne_ Indians, who in this region also hunt reindeer and musk-oxen.
War to the knife is the practice between these two races of people, and
has ever been since the first knowledge of either.  They often meet in
conflict upon the rivers inland, and these conflicts are of so cruel and
sanguinary a nature as to imbue each with a wholesome fear of the other.
The Indians, however, dread the Esquimaux more than the latter fear
them; and up to a late period took good care never to approach their
coasts; but the musket and rifle have now got into the hands of some of
the northern tribes, who avail themselves of these superior weapons, not
only to keep the Esquimaux at bay, but also to render them more cautious
about extending their range towards the interior.

When the dreary winter begins to make its appearance, and the reindeer
grow scarce upon the snow-covered plains, the Esquimaux return to their
winter villages upon the coast.  Quadrupeds and birds no longer occupy
their whole attention, for the drift of their thoughts is now turned
towards the inhabitants of the great deep.  The seal and the walrus are
henceforth the main objects of pursuit.  Perhaps during the summer, when
the water was open, they may have visited the shore for the purpose of
capturing that great giant of the icy seas--a whale.  If so, and they
have been successful in only one or two captures, they may look forward
to a winter of plenty--since the flesh of a full-grown whale, or, better
still, a brace of such ample creatures, would be sufficient to feed a
whole tribe for months.

They have no curing process for this immense carcass; they stand in need
of none.  Neither salt nor smoking is required in their climate.  Jack
Frost is their provision curer, and performs the task without putting
them either to trouble or expense.  It is only necessary for them to
hoist the great flitches upon scaffolds, already erected for the
purpose, so as to keep the meat from the wolves, wolverines, foxes, and
their own half-starved dogs.  From their aerial larder they can cut a
piece of blubber whenever they feel hungry, or they have a mind to eat,
and this _mind_ they are in so long as a morsel is left.

Their mode of capturing a whale is quite different from that practised
by the whale-fishers.  When the huge creature is discovered near, the
whole tribe sally forth, and surround it in their kayaks; they then hurl
darts into its body, but instead of these having long lines attached to
them, they are provided with sealskins sewed up air-tight and inflated,
like bladders.  When a number of these become attached to the body of
the whale, the animal, powerful though he be, finds great difficulty in
sinking far down, or even progressing rapidly through the water.  He
soon rises to the surface, and the sealskin buoys indicate his
whereabouts to the occupants of the kayaks, who in their swift little
crafts, soon dart up to him again, and shoot a fresh volley into his
body.  In this way the whale is soon "wearied out," and then falls a
victim to their larger spears, just as in the case where a capture is
made by regular, whalers.

I need scarcely add that a success of this kind is hailed as a jubilee
of the tribe, since it not only brings a benefit to the whole community,
but is also a piece of fortune of somewhat rare occurrence.

When no whales have been taken, the long, dark winter may justly be
looked forward to with some solicitude; and it is then that the
Esquimaux requires to put forth all his skill and energies for the
capture of the walrus or the seal--the latter of which may be regarded
as the staff of his life, furnishing him not only with food, but with
light, fuel, and clothing for his body and limbs.

Of the seals that inhabit the Polar Seas there are several species; but
the common seal (_Calocephalus vitulina_) and the harp-seal
(_Calocephalus Groenlandicus_) are those most numerous, and consequently
the principal object of pursuit.

The Esquimaux uses various stratagems for taking these creatures,
according to the circumstances in which they may be encountered; and
simpletons as the seals may appear, they are by no means easy of
capture.  They are usually very shy and suspicious, even in places where
man has never been seen by them.  They have other enemies, especially in
the great polar bear; and the dread of this tyrant of the icy seas keeps
them ever on the alert.  Notwithstanding their watchfulness, however,
both the bear and the biped make great havoc among them, and each year
hundreds of thousands of them are destroyed.

The bear, in capturing seals, exhibits a skill and cunning scarce
excelled by that of the rational being himself.  When this great
quadruped perceives a seal basking on the edge of an ice-field, he makes
his approaches, not by rushing directly towards it, which he well knows
would defeat his purpose.  If once seen by the seal, the latter has only
to betake himself to the water, where it can soon sink or swim beyond
the reach of the bear.  To prevent this, the bear gets well to leeward,
and then diving below the surface, makes his approaches under water, now
and then cautiously raising his head to get the true bearings of his
intended victim.  After a number of these subaqueous "reaches," he gets
close in to the edge of the floe in such a position as to cut off the
seal's retreat to the water.  A single spring brings him on the ice, and
then, before the poor seal has time to make a brace of flounders, it
finds itself locked in the deadly embrace of the bear.  When seals are
thus detected asleep, the Esquimaux approaches them in his kayak, taking
care to paddle cautiously and silently.  If he succeed in getting
between them and the open water, he kills them in the ordinary way--by
simply knocking them on the snout with a club, or piercing them with a
spear.  Sometimes, however, the seal goes to sleep on the surface of the
open water.  Then the approach is made in a similar manner by means of
the kayak, and the animal is struck with a harpoon.  But a single blow
does not always kill a seal, especially if it be a large one, and the
blow has been ill-directed.  In such cases the animal would undoubtedly
make his escape, and carry the harpoon along with it, which would be a
serious loss to the owner, who does not obtain such weapons without
great difficulty.  To prevent this, the Esquimaux uses a contrivance
similar to that employed in the capture of the whale,--that is, he
attaches a float or buoy to his harpoon by means of a cord, and this so
impedes the passage of the seal through the water, that it can neither
dive nor swim to any very great distance.  The float is usually a walrus
bladder inflated in the ordinary way, and wherever the seal may go, the
float betrays its track, enabling the Esquimaux to follow it in his
shuttle-shaped kayak, and pierce it again with a surer aim.

In winter, when the sea is quite covered with ice, you might fancy that
the seal-fishery would be at an end, for the seal is essentially a
marine animal; and although it can exist upon the ice or on dry land, it
could not _subsist_ there.  Access to the water it must have, in order
to procure its food, which consists of small fish and molluscs.  Of
course, when the ice forms on the surface, the seal is in its true
element--the water underneath--but when this ice becomes, as it often
does, a full yard in thickness, extending over hundreds of miles of the
sea, how then is the seal to be got at?  It could not be reached at all;
and at such a season the Esquimaux people would undoubtedly starve, were
it not for a habit peculiar to this animal, which, happily for them,
brings it within their reach.

Though the seal can live under water like a fish, and probably could
pass a whole winter under the ice without much inconvenience, it likes
now and then to take a little fresh air, and have a quiet nap upon the
upper surface in the open air.  With this design it breaks a hole
through the ice, while the latter is yet thin, and this hole it keeps
carefully open during the whole winter, clearing out each new crust as
it forms.  No matter to what thickness the ice may attain, this hole
always forms a breathing-place for the seal, and a passage by which he
may reach the upper surface, and indulge himself in--his favourite
siesta in the open air.  Knowing this habit, the Esquimaux takes
advantage of it to make the seal his captive.  When the animal is
discovered on the ice, the hunter approaches with the greatest stealth
and caution.  This is absolutely necessary: for if the enemy is
perceived, or makes the slightest noise, the wary seal flounders rapidly
into his hole, and is lost beyond redemption.  If badly frightened, he
will not appear for a long time, denying himself his open air exercise
until the patience of his persecutor is quite worn out, and the coast is
again clear.

In making his approaches, the hunter uses all his art, not only taking
advantage of every inequality--such as snow-drifts and ice-hillocks--to
conceal himself; but he also practises an ingenious deception by
dressing himself in the skin of a seal of like species, giving his body
the figure of the animal, and counterfeiting its motions, by floundering
clumsily over the ice, and oscillating his head from side to side, just
as seals are seen to do.

This deception often proves successful, when the hunter under any other
shape would in vain endeavour to get within striking distance of his
prey.  When seals are scarce, and the supply greatly needed, the
Esquimaux often lies patiently for hours together on the edge of a
seal-hole waiting for the animal to come up.  In order to give it time
to get well out upon the ice, the hunter conceals himself behind a heap
of snow, which he has collected and piled up for the purpose.  A
float-stick, ingeniously placed in the water of the breathing-hole,
serves as a signal to tell when the seal is mounting through his
trap-like passage, the motion of the stick betraying its ascent.  The
hunter then gets himself into the right attitude to strike, and summons
all his energies for the encounter.

Even during the long, dark night of winter this mode of capturing the
seal is practised.  The hunter, having discovered a breathing-hole--
which its dark colour enables him to find--proceeds in the following
manner: he scrapes away the snow from around it, and lifting up some
water pours it on the ice, so as to make a circle of a darker hue around
the orifice.  He then makes a sort of cake of pure white snow, and with
this covers the hole as with a lid.  In the centre of this lid he
punches a small opening with the shaft-end of his spear, and then sits
down and patiently awaits the issue.

The seal ascends unsuspiciously as before.  The dark water, bubbling up
through the small central orifice, betrays its approach, which can be
perceived even in the darkest night.  The hunter does not wait for its
climbing out upon the ice.  Perhaps if he did so, the suspicious
creature might detect the device, and dive down again.  But it is not
allowed time for reflection.  Before it can turn its unwieldly body, the
heavy spear of the hunter--struck through the yielding snow--descends
upon its skull, and kills it on the instant.

The great "walrus" or "morse" (_Trichecus rosmarus_) is another
important product of the Polar Seas, and is hunted by the Esquimaux with
great assiduity.  This splendid amphibious animal is taken by
contrivances very similar to those used for the seal; but the capture of
a walrus is an event of importance, second only to the striking of a
whale.  Its great carcass not only supplies food to a whole village, but
an oil superior to that of the whale, besides various other useful
articles.  Its skin, bones, and intestines are employed by the Esquimaux
for many domestic purposes,--and, in addition, there are the huge molar
tusks, that furnish one of the most valuable ivories of commerce, from
which are manufactured those beautiful sets of teeth, of dazzling
whiteness, that, gleaming between vermilion lips, you may often see at a
ball or an evening party!



CHAPTER FIVE.

MUNDRUCUS, OR BEHEADERS.

In our general sketch of the Amazonian Indians it was stated that there
were some few tribes who differed in certain customs from all the rest,
and who might even be regarded as _odd among the odd_.  One of these
tribes is the _Mundrucu_, which, from its numbers and warlike strength,
almost deserves to be styled a nation.  It is, at all events, a powerful
confederacy, of different tribes, linked together in one common
nationality, and including in their league other Indians which the
Mundrucus themselves first conquered, and afterwards associated with
themselves on terms of equality; in other words, "annexed" them.  The
same sort of annexation or alliance is common among the tribes of North
America; as in the case of the powerful Comanche nation, who extend
their protecting alliance over the Wacoes, Washites, and Cayguaas or
Kioways.

The _Mahue_ is the principal tribe that is patronised in this fashion by
the Mundrucus, and the two together number at least 20,000 souls.

Before the days of the Portuguese slave-hunting, the Mundrucus occupied
the south bank of the Amazon, from the mouth of the Tapajos to that of
the Madeira.  This infamous traffic had the effect of clearing the banks
of the great river of its native inhabitants,--except such of them as
chose to submit to slavery, or become _neophytes_, by adopting the
monkish faith.  Neither of these courses appeared pleasing in the eyes
of the Mundrucus, and they adopted the only alternative that was likely
to insure their independence,--by withdrawing from the dangerous
proximity of the sanguinary slave-trade.

This retreat of the Mundrucus, however, was by no means an ignominious
flight.  The withdrawal was voluntary on their part, and not compulsory,
as was the case with weaker tribes.  From the earliest times they had
presented a firm front to the Portuguese encroachments, and the latter
were even forced into a sort of nefarious alliance with them.  The
leaving the Amazon on the part of the Mundrucus was rather the result of
a negotiation, by which they conceded their territory--between the
mouths of the Tapajos and Madeira--to the Brazilian government; and to
this hour they are not exactly unfriendly to Brazilian _whites_, though
to the mulattoes and negroes, who constitute a large proportion of the
Brazilian population, the Mundrucu knows no other feeling than that of a
deadly hostility.  The origin of their hatred of the Brazilian blacks is
to be found in a revolt which occurred in the provinces of the Lower
Amazon (at Para) in 1835.  It was a _caste_ revolution against whites,
but more especially against _European_ Portuguese.  In this affair the
Mundrucus were employed against the darker-skinned rebels--the
_Gabanos_, as they were called--and did great service in putting down
the rebellion.  Hence they retain a lingering spark of friendship for
their _ci-devant_ white allies; or perhaps it would be more correct to
say they do not actually hate them, but carry on a little commerce with
their traders.  For all that, they occasionally cut the throats of a few
of the latter,--especially those who do not come to deal directly with
them, but who pass through their country in going from the Amazon to the
diamond mines of Brazil.  These last are called _Moncaos_, and their
business is to carry supplies from the towns on the Amazon (Santarem and
Para) to the miners of gold and washers of diamonds in the district of
Matto Grosso, of which Cuiaba is the capital.  Their route is by water
and "portage" up the Tapajos river, and through the territory of the
dreaded Mundrucus,--requiring a journey of six months, as perilous and
toilsome as it is tedious.

The present residence of the Mundrucus is between the Tapajos and
Madeira, as formerly, but far up on both rivers.  On the Tapajos, above
what are known as the "Caxoeiras," or Cataracts, their villages are
found.  There they dwell, free from all molestation on the part of the
whites; their borders extending widely around them, and limited only by
contact with those of other warlike tribes like themselves, who are
their deadly enemies.  Among these last are the _Muras_, who dwell at
the mouths of the Madeira and Rio Negro.

The Mundrucus build the _malocca_, elsewhere described; only in their
case it is not used as a dwelling, but rather as a grand arsenal, a
council-chamber, a ballroom, and, if need be, a fortress.  When fearing
an attack, all sleep in it "under arms."  It is a structure of large
size and great strength, usually rendered more unassailable by being
"chinked" and plastered with clay.  It is in this building that are
deposited those horrid trophies which have given to the Mundrucus their
terrible title of _decapitadores_, or "beheaders."  The title and its
origin shall be presently explained.

Around the great malocca the huts are placed, forming a village, and in
these the people ordinarily dwell.

The Mundrucus are not without ample means of subsistence.  Like most
other Amazonian tribes, they cultivate a little manioc, plantains, and
even maize; and they know how to prepare the _farinha_ meal, and,
unfortunately, also the detestable _chicha_, the universal beverage of
the South-American aborigines.  They have their vessels of calabash--
both of the vegetable and arborescent kinds--and a full set of
implements and utensils for the field and kitchen.  Their war weapons
are those common to other Amazonian tribes, and they sometimes also
carry the spear.  They have canoes of hollow trees; and, of course,
fishing and hunting are the employments of the men,--the women, as
almost everywhere else among Indians, doing the drudgery,--the tilling
and reaping, the "hewing of wood and the drawing of water," the making
the household utensils and using them,--all such offices being beneath
the dignity of the "lordly," or rather _lazy_ savage.

I have said that they carry on a commercial intercourse with the white
traders.  It is not of much magnitude, and their exports consist
altogether of the native and spontaneous productions of the soil,
sarsaparilla being one of the chief articles.  They gather this (the
women and children do) during six months of the year.  The other six
months no industry is followed,--as this period is spent in hostile
excursions against the neighbouring tribes.  Their imports consist of
iron tools and pieces for weapons; but they more especially barter the
product of their labour for ornamental gewgaws,--such as savages
universally admire and desire.  Their sarsaparilla is good, and much
sought for in the medical market.

Every one is acquainted with the nature and character of this valuable
medicinal root, the appearance of which must also be known to almost
everybody,--since it is so very common for our druggists to display the
bundles of it in their shop windows.  Perhaps every one is not
acquainted with the fact, that the sarsaparilla root is the product of a
great many different species of plants most of them of the genus
_Simlax_, but not a few belonging to plants of other genera, as those of
_Carex_ and _Herreria_ the roots of which are also sold as sarsaparilla.
The species of simlax are widely distributed throughout the whole
torrid zone, in Asia, Africa, and America, and some kinds are found
growing many degrees outside the tropics,--as is the case in Virginia
and the valley of the Mississippi, and also on the other side of the
Pacific on the great continent-island of Australia.

The best sarsaparilla, however, is that which is produced in tropical
countries, and especially in moist situations, where the atmosphere is
at once hot and humid.  It requires these conditions to concentrate the
virtue of its sap, and render it more active.

It would be idle to give a list of the different species of simlax that
furnish the sarsaparilla root of the pharmacopeia.  There is an almost
endless number of them, and they are equally varied in respect to
excellence of quality; some kinds are in reality almost worthless, and
for this reason, in using it as a medicine, great care should be taken
in the selection of the species.  Like all other articles, either of
food or medicine, the valuable kinds are the scarcest; the reason in
this case being that the best sarsaparilla is found in situations not
only difficult of access, but where the gathering of its root is
attended with considerable danger, from the unhealthy nature of the
climate and the hostility of the savages in whose territory it grows.
As to the quantity that may be obtained, there is no limit, on the score
of any scarcity of the plant itself, since it is found throughout all
the countries of tropical America plenteously distributed both in
species and individual plants.  Such quantities of it grow along the
banks of some South-American rivers, that the Indians have a belief that
those streams known as _black waters_--such as the Rio Negro and
others--derive their peculiar colour from the roots of this plant.
This, however, is an erroneous supposition, as there are many of the
_white-water_ rivers that run through regions abundantly supplied with
the sarsaparilla root.  The black water, therefore, must arise from some
other cause, as yet unknown.

As observed, the sarsaparilla of the Mundrucu country is of the very
best quality.  It is the _Simlax papyracea_ of Soiret, and is known in
commerce as the "Lisbon," or "Brazilian."  It is a climbing plant, or
under-shrub, the stem of which is flattened and angular, with rows of
prickles standing along the prominent edges.  Its leaves are of an oval
acuminated shape, and marked with _longitudinal_ nerves.  It shoots
without any support, to a height of fifteen or twenty feet, after which
it embraces the surrounding branches of trees and spreads to a great
distance in every direction.  The main root sends out many long
tendrils, all of like thickness, covered with a brownish bark, or
sometimes of a dark-grey colour.  These tendrils are fibrous, and about
as thick as a quill.  They present a constant tendency to become
crooked, and they are also wrinkled longitudinally, with here and there
some smaller lateral fibres branching off from the sides.

It is in the bark or epidermis of the rhizomes that the medicinal virtue
lies; but the tendrils--both rhizome and bark--are collected together,
and no attempt is made to separate them, until they have reached their
commercial destination.  Indeed, even these are sold together, the mode
of preparing the root being left to the choice of the consumer, or the
apothecary who procures it.

The Mundrucus collect it during the six months of the rainy season,
partly because during the remaining six they are otherwise employed, and
partly for the reason that, in the time of rain, the roots are more
easily extracted from the damp soil.  The process simply consists in
digging them up or dragging them out of the earth--the latter mode
especially where the tendrils lie near the surface, and they will pull
up without breaking.  If the main root be not dug out, it will send
forth new tendrils, which in a short time would yield a new crop; but
the improvident savages make no prudential calculations of this kind--
present convenience forming their sole consideration; and on this
account both the root and plant are generally destroyed by t

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