I also suffered a little from another of our insect enemies: the celebrated _chigoe_ at length paid us a visit. I found a tender pimple on the side of my foot, which Isidora pronounced to be a “bicho do pé,” or chigoe; so preferring to extract it myself, I set to work with a needle, but not being used to the operation, could not get it out entire. I then rubbed a little snuff in the wound, and afterwards felt no more of it. The insect is a minute flea, which burrows into the skin of the toes, where it grows into a large bag of eggs as big as a pea, the insect being just distinguishable as a black speck on one side of it. When it first enters it causes a slight irritation, and if found may then be easily extracted; but when it grows large it is very painful, and if neglected may produce a serious wound. With care and attention however this dreaded insect is not so annoying as the mosquito or our own domestic flea. Having made arrangements for another and a longer visit to Magoary, we packed up our hammocks, nets, and boxes, and went on board a canoe which trades regularly to the mills, bringing the rice and timber, and taking whatever is required there. We left Pará about nine at night, when the tide served, and at five the next morning found the vessel lying at anchor, waiting for the flood. We were to proceed on to the mills in a montaria, or small Indian canoe, and as we were five with the Negroes who were to paddle, I felt rather nervous on finding that we sank the little boat to within two inches of the water’s edge, and that a slight motion of any one of the party would be enough to swamp us altogether. However there was no help for it, so off we went, but soon found that with its unusual load our boat leaked so much that we had to keep baling by turns with a calabash all the time. This was not very agreeable; but after a few miles we got used to it, and looked to the safe termination of our voyage as not altogether improbable. The picturesque and novel appearance of the river’s banks, as the sun rose, attracted all our attention. The stream, though but an insignificant tributary of the Amazon, was wider than the Thames. The banks were everywhere clothed with a dense forest. In places were numerous mangroves, their roots descending from the branches into the water, having a curious appearance; on some we saw the fruit germinating on the tree, sending out a shoot which would descend to the water, and form another root to the parent. Behind these rose large forest-trees, mingled with the Assai, Miriti, and other palms, while passion-flowers and convolvuluses hung their festoons to the water’s edge.