so we caught the snake, as it could not
disentangle its fangs.

In the country near Rio there are great snakes called the anaconda, a
sort of boa-constrictor on a large scale. Once, while walking in the
woods with some friends, we found a little Indian boy dead on the
ground, one of these big snakes lying within a foot or so of him, also
dead; the snake had a poisoned arrow in his brain, which evidently had
been shot at him by the poor little boy, whose blow-pipe was lying by
his side. The snake must have struck the boy before it died, as we found
a wound on the boy's neck. This reptile measured twenty-two feet in
length.

By the way, a well-known author, Mrs. B----, tells a marvellous story
about these snakes. She says that they always go in pairs, have great
affection for each other, and are prepared on all occasions to resent
affronts offered to either of them. She narrates that a peasant once
killed a big anaconda, and that the other, or chum snake, followed the
man several miles to the house where he had taken the dead one, got in
by the window, and crushed the destroyer of his friend to death. I
expect that some salt is necessary to swallow this tale, but such is the
statement Mrs. B---- makes.

The most lovely birds and butterflies are found near Rio, and the finest
collections in the world are made there. The white people are Portuguese
by origin--not a nice lot to my fancy, though the ladies are as usual
always nice, especially when young; they get old very soon through
eating sweets and not taking exercise. There is very little poverty
except among the free blacks, who are lazy and idle and somewhat
vicious. I always have believed that the black man is an inferior
animal--in fact, that the dark races are meant to be drawers of water
and hewers of wood. I do not deny that they have souls to be saved, but
I believe that their role in this world is to attend on the white man.
The black is, and for years has been, educated on perfect equality with
the white man, and has had every chance of improving himself--with what
result? You could almost count on your fingers the names of those who
have distinguished themselves in the battle of life.

Sometimes, while cruising off the coast of Rio de Janeiro looking out
for slave vessels, we passed a very monotonous life. The long and
fearfully hot mornings before the sea breeze sets in, the still longer
and choking nights with the thermometer at 108 deg., were trying in