managed to get out of this difficulty, clearing the rocky point at a close shave with our jib-sail. Soon after we drifted into the smooth water of a sheltered bay which leads to the charmingly situated village of Altar do Chaõ; and we were obliged to give up our attempt to recover the montaria.
The little settlement, Altar do Chaõ—altar of the ground, or Earth altar—owes its singular name to the existence at the entrance to the harbour of one of those strange flat-topped hills which are so common in this part of the Amazons country, shaped like the high altar in Roman Catholic churches. It is an isolated one and much lower in height than the similarly truncated hills and ridges near Almeyrim, being elevated probably not more than 300 feet above the level of the river. It is bare of trees, but covered in places with a species of fern. At the head of the bay is an inner harbour which communicates by a channel with a series of lakes lying in the valleys between hills and stretching far into the interior of the land. The village is peopled almost entirely by semi-civilised Indians to the number of sixty or seventy families, and the scattered houses are arranged in broad streets on a strip of green sward at the foot of a high, gloriously-wooded ridge.
We stayed here nine days. As soon as we anchored I went ashore and persuaded, by the offer of a handsome reward, two young half-breeds to go in search of my missing boat. The head man of the place, Captain Thomas, a sleepy-looking mameluco, whom I found in his mud-walled cottage in loose shirt and drawers, with
