though a fairly young man, to the usual nerve-worn type that the
white man seems bound to become after any long stay in the upper
Amazon region.

Not knowing where I might stop when I left Remate de Males, I had
brought with me a case of canned goods. I only succeeded in insulting
the Coronel when I mentioned this. He gave me his best room and
sent for a new hammock for me. Such attentions to a stranger, who
came without even a letter of introduction, are typical of Brazilian
hospitality.

After a plentiful meal, consisting of fried fish and roast
loin of tapir, which tasted very good, we drank black coffee and
conversed as well as my limited knowledge of the Portuguese language
permitted. After this, naturally, feeling very tired from my travels
and the heat of the day, I arranged my future room, strung my hammock,
and slept until a servant announced that supper was served. This meal
consisted of jerked beef, farinha, rice, black beans, turtle soup,
and the national Goiabada marmalade. The cook, who was nothing but
a sick rubber-worker, had spoiled the principal part of the meal by
disregarding the juices of the meat, and cooking it without salt,
besides mixing the inevitable farinha with everything. But it was
a part of the custom of the country and could not be helped. _De
gustibus non est disputandum._

When this meal was over, I was invited to go with the secretary,
Mr. da Marinha, the man who had first greeted me in the morning,
to see a sick person. At some distance from the house was a small
barracão, where we were received by a _seringueiro_ named Marques. This
remarkable man was destined to figure prominently in experiences that