poor fellows seemed to fare very badly. Captain Antonio treated all his Indians like slaves; paying them no wages and stinting them to scanty rations of salt fish and farinha. There was an air of poverty and misery over the whole establishment, which produced a very disagreeable impression: these are certainly not the people to develope the resources of a fine country like this.
On recrossing the river to Aveyros in the evening, a pretty little parrot fell from a great height headlong into the water near the boat; having dropped from a flock which seemed to be fighting in the air. One of the Indians secured it for me, and I was surprised to find the bird uninjured. There had probably been a quarrel about mates, resulting in our little stranger being temporarily stunned by a blow on the head from the beak of a jealous comrade. The species was the Conurus guianensis, called by the natives Maracaná; the plumage green, with a patch of scarlet under the wings. I wished to keep the bird alive and tame it, but all our efforts to reconcile it to captivity were vain; it refused food, bit every one who went near it, and damaged its plumage in its exertions to free itself. My friends in Aveyros said that this kind of parrot never became domesticated. After trying nearly a week I was recommended to lend the intractable creature to an old Indian woman, living in the village, who was said to be a skilful bird-tamer. In two days she brought it back almost as tame as the familiar love-birds of our aviaries. I kept my little pet for upwards of two years; it learned to talk pretty well, and was con-
