men; the pipes were rolled into the water and floated to the
canoe, the men passing cables round and towing them through a
rough sea. Here we slept, and the following morning, continuing
our voyage, entered a narrow channel which intersects the land of
Carnapijo. At 2 p.m. we emerged from this channel, which is
called the Aitituba, or Arrozal, into the broad Bahia, and then
saw, two or three miles away to the left, the red-tiled mansion
of Caripi, embosomed in woods on the shores of a charming little
bay.

The water is very shallow near the shore, and when the wind blows
there is a heavy ground swell. A few years previously, an English
gentleman, Mr. Graham, an amateur naturalist, was capsized here
and drowned with his wife and child, while passing in a heavily-
laden montaria to his large canoe. Remembering their fate, I was
rather alarmed to see that I should be obliged to take all my
luggage ashore in one trip in a leaky little boat. The pile of
chests with two Indians and myself sank the montaria almost to
the level of the water. I was kept busy bailing all the way. The
Indians manage canoes in this condition with admirable skill.
They preserve the nicest equilibrium, and paddle so gently that
not the slightest oscillation is perceptible. On landing, an old
negress named Florinda, the feitora or manageress of the
establishment (which was kept only as a poultry-farm and hospital
for sick slaves), gave me the keys, and I forthwith took
possession of the rooms I required.

I remained here nine weeks, or until the 12th of February, 1849.
The house was very large and most substantially built, but
consisted of only one story. I was told it was built by the