Preface to Our Little Brazilian Cousin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Roulet. Preface. Our Little Brazilian Cousin lives in a land not so well known as the countries of Europe and Asia, but one of great natural beauty and charm. Through it flows the greatest river of the world, the Amazon, whose banks are covered with rich tropical vegetation, most beautiful to behold. Its forests are full of birds of brilliant plumage and strange animals, while the Indians who were once the only people here are not yet all civilized. The Little Brazilian Cousins are nearly all descended from the Portuguese who came to this land and made it their own, before it finally became a republic like the United States. They built many great cities and have cultivated the country so that now it is becoming rich and powerful. With such a beautiful home and with such advantages, our Little Brazilian Cousin will soon become one of the most important of all the Little Cousins, as he is now one of the most picturesque and interesting. End of Preface. Chapter 1 of Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Roulet. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A Little Siesta. Afonso was tired of talking to the white cockatoo. It was the time of day when his little sister Lola took her siesta, and he had no one to play with. He was himself such a big boy, soon eleven years old, that he felt no longer the needs of the daily siesta, although in the warm country of Brazil where he lived, even grown up people like a nap in the middle of the day. Afonso himself did not feel very lively. The sun beat down like a great ball of fire and only the cool veranda or the shady garden seemed enticing. The garden should have been pleasant enough to satisfy any boy, for it was a vision of tropic beauty. Tall palms waved their feathery branches heavenward, and gaily colored flowers flaunted their gorgeous petals while brilliant birds flittered hither and yon. But Afonso was used to all this beauty, and he wanted something new to do. For this Little Brazilian Cousin was very like his American ones and could not be quiet very long. Even the fruit garden seemed tiresome. Generally he was happy to spend his time there, for the huge banana trees which grew in a banana patch at the end of the house were sure of several visits from him during the day. The plants were twice as tall as he, and the fruit grew in great bunches, many of them weighing fifty pounds, and Afonso always chose the finest for himself and Lola to eat. Besides these there were figs, pineapples, mangoes, grapes, and arches all of which grow in Brazil. The American watermelon had also been planted, and the senor was watching eagerly to see if it would bear fruit, for he had been told that in other parts of Brazil it grew rapidly and bore well. Afonso was much interested in it too, for his cousin in the States had sent the seeds and told him how delicious the fruit was. He strolled toward the sunny slope where the vines were tended by Joaquim, the black who took care of the garden and helped about the house. Joaquim's mother had nursed Afonso's mother in the days when there were black slaves in Brazil, and he was devoted to the whole family.  He could cook and bake, wait on the senor, tend the garden or the horses, and could always be trusted to take care of little Lola, who was his great friend. Afonso looked at the green melon and wondered how it tasted. He had heard so much about it that he was very curious and could hardly wait until the day came when it should be served, for his mother had promised that each should have a taste. Above the melon vines grew one of the tallest of the banana trees, and the fruit seemed to Afonso to be finer at that particular time than he had ever seen it. He was very hungry and felt he must have one of those bananas at once. Ordinarily he would have climbed the tree like a little monkey and helped himself, but his mother had excused him from his siesta and conditioned that he'd be quiet, and though he looked longingly at the fruit he did not start to climb. He threw himself down on the grass and looked up through the thick foliage at the blue above. I wish something would happen, he said to himself. It seems to me that nothing ever happens. One half of a year I must be in Pada and stay at my grandfather's to go to the Lauri Sodre Institute. I'm tired of the very name, and the other half I must stay here at the fazenda with no playmate but Lola, and she is made to sleep half the day. I wish something would happen. And he sighed discontentedly. How hungry I am, he thought. I must have one of those bananas. They never look so good. I believe Mamo will not care if I climb for one. For she only said I must keep quiet, and I'm sure I'll make no noise. With that the boy rose to his feet. With a quick glance around he began to climb and was soon squirming around the trunk of the tree like a snake. Once there he reached for the best bananas and filled the pockets of his linen suit with them. He was just starting down when he heard voices coming and peering cautiously down the garden path. He saw his father with an uncle of whom he was very fond and whom he had not seen for some time. Uncle proved the answer, he thought. I wonder when he came from Pada and how long he's going to stay. Oh, dear, how will I get down from here? Alfonso knew that his father would not be likely to pass over any disobedience in that he would be punished if he came down at that moment. So he crouched among the leaves and was still as a mouse while the two gentlemen came directly under the banana tree and stopped to talk. This is the American melon, said the senor. It will be ripened another week. There are others ripening, but this is the finest. If it is good I shall keep all the seeds and have a large crop next year. If one comes I shall ask him to bring me the seeds of various kinds, for there's nothing like variety in a garden. In our hot climate these should do well, and they are very agreeable when properly cooled. I hope Juan will come. A long visit from him would be a good thing for Alfonso, who is growing spoiled from being the only boy. He is willful and high-spirited, but on the whole he is—what is that? The senor stopped and Alfonso never knew what he himself was, besides being willful and high-spirited. Distressed at being a listener, he had leaned too far out on the branch on which he sat, and it broke under his weight. He gave a wild clutch and fell down, down, down. He thought he would never stop, and oh horror, when he did light it was astride the shoulders of his uncle. Alfonso was a sturdy little fellow, and his uncle was slight and small, the result being that both went down in the heat on top of the melon. For a moment no one spoke, then his father pulled him off his uncle and helped his irate brother to his feet. Uncle Prudenti's white linen suit was splashed from head to foot with watermelon juice. His Panama hat was crushed out of shape.  He was speechless with rage, but he looked so funny that a fossil, sore and bruised by his fall and terribly frightened, could not help laughing. He sat down upon the ground and laughed till he cried, and the noise woke all the parrots dozing in the trees, and all began jabbering at once while the cockatoo gave one of his terrible screeches. When the noise had subsided a little, Senhor Dia said sternly to Alfonso, What is the meaning of this? Alfonso was silent, but he quickly sprang to his feet and stood respectfully in front of his father, for Brazilian boys are taught to treat their elders with great deference. What were you doing in that tree, demanded his father? Eating bananas, said Alfonso simply. Does your mother permit that, asked the Senhor? For in Brazil, as in most South American countries, the mother arranges all matters in regard to the children. My mother allows me to climb trees and eat bananas, said Alfonso. That was not a disobedience, but what demanded the father? But continued Alfonso slowly, she had at the hour of the siesta requested me to keep quiet. Do you call this quiet, asked his father sternly? Though his eyes twinkled, such a noise has not been heard at the fazenda for many days. Not very quiet, said Alfonso, his head drooping though he could scarce keep from laughing again. I ask your pardon, my uncle, he added. I intend nothing of disrespect. I did but lose my hold upon the tree, and the next thing I knew I sat astride of your august shoulders. I pray you pardon me. Alfonso's tone was contrite, and his dancing eyes were on the ground. Say no more of it, said his uncle, as he laid his hand on the boy's head. Boys will be boys, and Alfonso is not unlike others, but next time I come do not receive me with such a fearsome brace. Indeed I thought my neck was broken with the warmth of your welcome. Alfonso's laugh rang out gaily, but he sobered down when his father said, I excuse you since your uncle asked it, but remember after this that the commands of your mother are to be obeyed.  Alfonso bowed to his father and made the military salute as all schoolboys are taught to do in Brazil. But he sighed to himself as he went. I wonder what he meant about Juan, but I'm afraid to ask. And the worst of it all is that now I shall never know how the American melon tasted. End of chapter one, A Little Siesta. Chapter two of Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Brolet. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. In the Forest The sun was just rising and its slanting rays cast a golden glow over the thick foliage when Alfonso sprang out of bed next morning, awakened by the noisy chattering of the birds. Hurrah, he exclaimed. It is a fine day. How glad I am. For now I can go hunting with my father and uncle Prudenti. He hurried into his clothes and down to the breakfast room where Joaquim was serving strong black coffee, rolls and fruit to his father and uncle. Here you are bright and early said the senior. Do you want to go with us? Perhaps you would better not. Alfonso's face fell. Oh, father, last night you promised. He said, and his father answered, oh, you may go. I merely thought perhaps it might tire you too much, for we shall have a long tramp. We must start at once, said his uncle, if we are to have any sport before midday. And they started toward the forest. The fazenda of the Señor Gias was situated on the edge of the magnificent woods which blind the banks of the Amazon near the city of Pará. No wonder that this region around Pará is called the Paradise of Brazil, said the Señor as they enter the forest where heavy dew glittered on the leaves like diamonds in an emerald crown. Every time I enter the forest it seems to me more splendid than it did the last time. What are those huge trees, asked Alfonso. You ought to know these, for they are among the most famous of all Brazilian trees. They are the Stambá, or Stonewood, and besides them grows a cinnamon tree. In addition to these there is the Jacaranda, Pau de Arco, the Euforbia, the large lofty cottonwood tree, the Toa White Seringa. I know that one, said Alfonso, it is a rubber tree. Won't you take me to see the rubber gathered today? No, not today, but tomorrow perhaps, for your uncle wishes to make the rounds and you may go with him. Thank you, that will be delightful, said Alfonso. Their path led through the forest where long racioms of tropic moss hung down and waved in the breeze while fern and vines grew in a tangle across the narrow path. Often the undergrowth was so thick that Joaquim had to go before the party and cut it away with his tracado. You must keep silent now, said the Señor. We shall frighten the game away if we talk. Ah, as he spoke he raised his gun to his shoulder and fired. There was a shrill cry, a flash of red and green wings, and a large bird with an enormous bill fluttered to the ground before them. A toucan cried Alfonso, as Joaquim quickly bagged the bird.  Tukano, Tukano. That is just the reason that the Indians named him Tukano, said the Señor. But listen, I hear monkeys. Looking carefully about, the hunters saw two monkeys at the top of a high tree, about which clung a monkey's ladder, an enormous vine which wound around the tree from its roots to its very topmost branches. When the little animals saw that they were perceived, they tried to conceal themselves behind the huge leaves of the tree, and the Señor's shot showed no result beyond an increased chattering.  Monkeys make an excellent dinner, and you will be glad enough to eat after we have tramped all morning for the heat. Master will not hit the monkeys, said Joaquim. I will get them, and he quickly stripped off all of his clothes except his cotton trousers and began to climb the monkey ladder. It was not easy to climb with his gun in one hand, but he was careful and as nimble as a cat, and he soon neared the top of the tree. He perched in a crotch of the tree, which branched out thickly at the top, and hiding behind some leaves he waited until he could get a glimpse of the monkeys. At last he spied one of them at the end of a branch, and firing quickly the monkey fell to the ground, fifty feet below. Joaquim climbed down after it, and the party soon went its way through the forest. Now the senior shot, and then his brother, and the boy himself, was allowed to fire at an ocelot which crept through the bushes, and great was his delight when he shot it. As the noon hour approached, the sun rose high in the heavens, and the heat grew so intense that the senior said, We will go no farther, let us rest and eat until it grows cooler. Joaquim lead us to a shady spot where we may camp. Yes, senior, said the black, and soon he brought them to a ruined building of stone, covered with vines and hidden among the trees. Here upon the stone floor of the ruin he kindled a fire and cooked the monkey, the flesh of which was simply delicious, and I found so ate until he was so sleepy that he could not keep his eyes open. What was this building, he asked his father. I did not know anyone had ever lived here. No one knows what it was, replied his father. It has been here for years, and the Indians say it was built many, many years ago by a black gown, as they called the early missionaries. It may have been the beginning of a mission house, but in any case it makes a very nice, cool place in which to take our siesta now. So sleep, my son, and wake refreshed. My phone so closed his eyes and was soon in dreamland. He slept long, but had strange dreams of someone's putting a heavy stone upon his chest and pressing it down. At last he awoke with a pressure still on him. He lay quite still, drowsily wondering what was the matter with him, and before he stirred Joachim's voice in in a hoarse whisper. Don't move, little master.  Afonso had been trained to habits of strictest obedience, and he lay perfectly still without moving a muscle, although wondering very much what was the matter. He heard Joachim dart quickly to his side. There was the sound of a blow and a loud exclamation from his father, and Joachim said, jump up, there is no danger now. As Afonso sprang to his feet, the weight rolled off his chest, and he saw the body of a large snake pinned to the earth by the blade of Joachim's trocado. There was a Jararaca, a Brazilian snake about six feet long, of a yellowish color. Sleeping in the cool of the old stone ruin it had been disturbed by the intruders, and had crawled across Afonso's body to reach the door. My boy, you have Joachim to thank for saving your life, said his father warmly, as he put his arm around his boy and drew him to his side. The Jararaca is very poisonous, and had your awakening disturbed him, he might have driven his fangs into you. Good old Joachim said Afonso, as he threw his arms around the black's neck. Negro servants in Brazil who have been in the family for years are always much beloved, and Afonso is devoted to the old Negro. Joachim didn't say much, but smiled at the boy, as he took the dead body of the snake outside, and prepared to take off its beautiful skin. End of chapter two, In the Forest. Chapter number three of Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Roulay. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. The Tropical Storm What fortunes could be made in these forests, said the Senor Gias to his brother, if people with capital only knew of the riches stored here. Mahogany, Satinwood, Rosewood, and many other kinds of trees grow here in the greatest abundance, and were there railroads and ships to transport them, Brazil would be one of the richest countries in the world. We should try to develop our own lands, said his brother, and the two men entered into a long conversation, as to the wonderful forests of the country, to which Afonso listened with interest. Well, Father, he exclaimed at last, When you go up the river to see the forest, may I go with you? Perhaps, but I could not make a promise without first asking your mother's consent. The trip will be an interesting one, but very hard. Though it might do you good. I should love to go, said Afonso, and his uncle at it.  Let him go. It is about time we are starting now, said the Senor. Joaquim will make ready the bag.  But do not stray away from him, or you will miss the path in all manner of dangerous lurk in these forests. Afonso sat lazily waiting and watching as the black put up the dinner-things. Take care of my snakeskin, he said, and Joaquim smiled and replied, That will make a fine belt for the little master when it is dried. I should like that very much, said Afonso. You must make it for me. Yes, sir, said Joaquim, as he swung over his strong shoulders, the wicker work hamper and game-bag. Is the young master ready to go? I am Afonso, replied, and the two started down the narrow path, along which the Senor had disappeared. What kind of tree is that, asked Afonso, pointing to a tall tree a hundred feet high. That is the Castagnan, said Joaquim. Some people call it the Brazilnut, and I have often gathered nuts from it for you to eat. The nuts grow at the very top of the tree in shells like coconuts, and each shell has fifteen or twenty nuts in it. Often I have thought my head was broken when a shell fell upon it. I wonder why we don't catch up with my father, said Afonso. Joaquim, what makes it so dark? Storm coming, we must hurry, was the brief answer. Heavy clouds had gathered quickly, not a glimmer of sunlight came through the trees, and great drops of rain began to fall. Father cried, Afonso, but there was no answer. Father recalled again, and Joaquim shouted, Senor, Senor! Nothing was heard but the screaming of the wind, and the rain fell faster and faster. Vivid flashes of lightning illuminated the forest, and the thunder muttered and grumbled in the distance. Come with me quickly, said Joaquim, as he seized the boy by the hand. We mustn't stay here. But my father cried, Afonso, and tried to get away from Joaquim, but the Negro held tight to him. The Senor can take care of himself. I must take care of you, he said, as he pulled the boy into a side path which led through the woods. They made their way with difficulty through the dense tangle of underbrush and vines. Often a swinging branch would strike Afonso on the face, or he would tangle his feet in the swaying vine and fall full length in a bed of fern. The rain poured down in torrents, but the leaves and interlaced branches served as a shield from the great drops which pelted down like bullets. Soon they came to a small hut with a thatched roof and no door to bar the entrance. Into it Joaquim pulled the boy with scant ceremony. As they entered the hut a man rose hurriedly from his grass couch, and Afonso recognized an Indian who had often been to the Fazenda to see his father.  Welcome, said the Serenguero. The storm is bad. You reach shelter just in time. See? He pointed through the doorway, and Afonso saw the streams of water were well nigh, rivers, and the thunder and lightning were almost incessant. Where do you suppose my father is? he asked, and Joaquim answered. The senior has found shelter, do not fear, and he will know you are safe with me. There is nothing to do but sit still, I suppose, said Afonso rather mournfully, for that was the hardest thing in all the world for him to do. Avicenchi gave him a slow smile. He was an old Indian of wiry frame with keen black eyes. His hair was straight and black, his chin firm and strong, his features clean cut, his face proud and intelligent. He was in great contrast to curly-haired black Joaquim with his good-humored, stolid face. Vicenchi was one of the Indians whose fathers had owned the land before the Portuguese discovered it and named it Brazil from the red color of its die-woods. He gathered rubber from the great trees which grew in the forest, and lived alone in his little hut. He sat smoking and watching the boy who looked out into the rain, feeling very miserable. Vicenchi, he said at last, have you lived long in the forest? Many years have I been here, said the old man, and my fathers were here before me. They hunted and fished and were chiefs in the land until the white man came. Many died, many went to the great hills, but I stayed here, for the home of my fathers is my home. Tell me a story, Vicenchi, beg the little boy. In the days of my fathers, said Vicenchi, and of my fathers' fathers, and their fathers, things were not as today they are in the country of the Great River. There were no white señores, the Indians dwelt alone. They roamed the forest hunting with a bow and arrow. They fished in the great stream. They dwelt in their lodges and were happy. Often there were fights with other Indians, and these were of great glory. But my people were peaceful and love not war, never fighting if they could first have peace. To secure peace for our village, each year they made a sacrifice, and this was the manner of it. A chief smeared his body with gum, and then powdered himself with gold dust. He powdered it all over, for in the mountains was much gold and precious gems. He placed himself on a raft, and was rode to the middle of the Great River. There he raised his hands to heaven, praying the Great Spirit to save his village, and jumping into the water he washed off the precious dust. This he sacrificed for his village. This was done each year and should have been done still when perhaps the Indian villages would not have been destroyed and deserted. But it ceased for the sin of one man. A chief loved gold. That is an evil and foolishness, for gold is but for use and not for love.  It was his turn to make the river sacrifice and become the gilded man. But he was angry within himself and said, Why shall I do this thing? If the village wishes gold, why must it take mine? It is a foolish thing. Yet he could not refuse the sacrifice. Or to be the gilded man was thought an honor. And did he refuse, many would suspect him of faithlessness to his tribe. So he gilded himself as was the custom, and his brother chiefs rode him to the river and raised his hands to the heavens. Spirit of rain and wind, of fire and water, of good and evil, keep our village and our people, he cried. We offer all to thee. Then he plunged into the stream and washed the gold from his arms and legs. All the time his heart was hot within him and he thought to himself, How my soul grieves to see this waste of this beautiful shining dust.  He left beneath his arms where others could not see it, some of the glittering dust, and returned to his village, an insult to the spirits of heaven. That night came fierce rain and wind, and with it a horde of enemies who descended like a hurricane and destroyed the village. Men, women and children. So the chief with all his gold was destroyed utterly, and he was the last gilded man. Thus were the spirits of heaven avenged. Thank you, V. Sanchez, cried Afonso, that is a good story. But see, the rain is over. Now we must hurry to find my father. Pointing as he spoke to the doorway, the sky was clear and bright, already rose tinted with the rays of the setting sun low in the heavens. You must not go yet, said V. Sanchez, ground too wet, trees wet, bad for white people. You must wait. But I must find my father, persisted Afonso, who, though he was a brave boy, began to be somewhat frightened. But V. Sanchez knew the danger of the steaming forest, with its snakes, mosquitoes, and insects swarming after the storm. Not safe to go now, he said, and Joaquin, who was quite comfortable where he was, said, Little Master, must sleep here and go home in the morning. You shall have a good supper, said V. Sanchez, who began at once to prepare the meal, and Afonso was forced to submit. So he watched with interest the preparations for supper. For, like most boys, he was generally hungry. V.  Take a bird from our bag, said Afonso, wishing to give his share of the feast, and Joaquin brought out a parrot which was soon stewing in the pot, with a pork, and a handful of peppers and herbs. When the savory stew was done, the meal was spread upon a rough bench at the door, and the three odd companions sat down together. Quite a festive party, said a laughing voice, and jumping up Afonso saw his father and uncle approaching through the trees. Oh Papa, how glad I am to see you! I feared you would be wet through, but you must have found shelter as we did, for you were scarcely wet at all. I worried about you more than you did about me, I fancy, said his father, though I hoped Joaquin would bring you here. Your uncle and I missed the path some way, and could not find you or the old house again, so we took refuge in the deserted hut. The seniors will sup with me, said Vicentia, and remain here for the night, since the forest is unsafe for the boy. A thousand thanks, we will stay if you can arrange for so many, was the reply, and as Vicentia assured them that they would all be most welcome, they ate their supper with much enjoyment. The two seniors slept in Indian hammocks, wung between giant rubber trees, while Afonso curled up in a blanket and slept, as did Vicentia and Joaquin on a fragrant couch of dried grass. End of Chapter 3 The Tropical Storm Chapter 4 Of Our Little Brazilian Cousin This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Roulet Chapter 4 Along the Amazon Come, son, said this in your early next morning. We have a long day before us, and you must eat plenty of breakfast. That is, if you want to go with your uncle and me. He may go back home with Joaquin. Where are you going, asked Afonso, as he smoothed down his linen suit, and combed his hair with a pocket comb from his dapper little uncle's case. He had washed his face in the stream, which gurgled near the hut, and that was all the toilet he could make, which seemed odd to him, for he was something of a dandy. We are going the rounds with Vicentia to see the rubber plantation, and then go home by the river. Do let me go with you. I am sure my mother would not object, cried Afonso. I shall send Joaquin home with word of your safety to ease her mind, and as you wish it so much, you may come with us. So eat, and we will start. Senor Dias was a rubber exporter from his plantation near Pará, when out huge balls of the rubber, solid, tough and brown. It is very interesting to watch the process of obtaining this from the milk-white sap of the rubber trees. Well Vicentia shall we start now, said the senor, when they had breakfasted. When the senor is ready, said Vicentia. The Indian lived by himself all the year around in his little hut. All along the Amazon these cabins may be found hidden in the woods, and each one dwells only a single Indian. It is a lonely and dangerous life. The climate is unhelpful, the swampy lands of the river valley, where the rubber trees grow are low and malaria, and the seringuero has often to wait knee-deep in mud, and work all day in wet clothing. The Indians are trustworthy workers, and many of them earn a good living. Well Vicentia had worked there so long that he would not have known how to act anywhere else, but he was glad to have company on his lonely rounds. So he smiled at Afonso as the boys skipped along, gathering one gorgeous flower after another, as Mary as the sun shone after the rain. You'd better walk a little more slowly and save your strength for the day's tramp, said his father. You'll be tired by night. Vicentia guided them down a well-worn path through the marshland. On each side were splendid trees, the rubber tree growing as high as 70 feet. The trunk, smooth and round, was covered with light-colored bark, the leaves oval and about a foot long, hanging clusters of three. The fruit grows in clusters also and consists of a small black nut, which the natives liked very much. Afonso picked one up and tasted it, but made a very rye face as it was quite bitter. Selecting a fine tree, Vicentia made a deep cut in the bark with his hatchet. Below it, by means of some damp clay, he fastened an earthen cup into which the cream-colored sap flowed slowly. By tomorrow the cup will be full, he said, and I will come again, now we will find another. The next tree was half a mile away and it had frequently been tapped before, for a row of incisions girdled it. Vicentia emptied the cups attached to these into a large pail, which he carried and made a new gash higher up. Do let me tap just one tree, said Afonso, and Vicentia allowed him to do so and helped him fasten on one of the cups to catch the sap. Afonso was delighted and dreamt along gaily, although his short legs found it difficult to keep up with the long strides of his father and uncle. At last Vicentia finished his rounds and said, as he showed the senor his brimming pail, this is all today. Does the senor wish to see it cooked? Yes, I want Afonso to see it all, as I know he will be interested, said Senor Dias. And they all followed the Indian to a little hut, such as the one in which they had swept the night before. Let us eat first, said the senor. Our walk has given us all appetites. So Vicentia built a fire and roasted a largato, which he had killed on the way through the forest. The delicate white flesh tasted delicious to Afonso, and so did the bananas and oranges and black coffee, which Vicentia made thick and strong, as it is liked in Brazil. Vicentia then made another fire of nuts and the wood of the motacul under a jug-shaped kalabash, the smoke coming out through the neck. This smoke hastens the drying of the liquid rubber and makes a better quality than can be obtained in any other way. I don't see how that stuff that looks like cream can ever be made like rubber, said Afonso. Watch Vicentia, said his father, and you will see. As he spoke, Vicentia dipped a long paddle into the liquid and then held it over the smoke. He quickly dried and he dipped the paddle into the juice again, repeating the process of drying.  Then he split the ball open along one side and pulled the paddle out. There now, said the Signor, the rubber is all ready to go to market. Perhaps some day you will bounce a ball or wear a pair of galaxias made of this very rubber. Won't that be fine, said Afonso. What are you going to do now, he asked, as his father rose as if to go. As soon as Vicentia has finished cooking, we will go to the river and go home by water, said the Signor. Then you will see some of the wood your uncle and I mean to export. That will be much better than tramping, said Afonso, who short legs began to be stiff and sore with all the walking he had done. Vicentia soon finished cooking his rubber and put up the utensils before following Afonso and the two men down the path to the river. Vicentia is a good Indian, isn't he, said Afonso. One of the best I have known, said his father. He has worked for us for years and has always been honest and reliable. It is strange that he should be so hospitable and friendly, for his ancestors and ours were always at war. When your grandfather was a young man there was always a fear of the natives in it. One time there was an Indian uprising which many Portuguese were killed. The Indians captured the city of Pará, burned many of the houses and destroyed everything they couldn't carry away with them. They held the city over a year before the Portuguese could recapture it. It must have been exciting to live then, cried Afonso, who loved to read of wars and battles and thought they must be interesting things. But as uncle said, more peaceful times are less exciting but far pleasanter and you would better be thankful that you live now. There is the river, how beautiful it looks. Afonso had often seen the Amazon, the greatest river in the world, and had been on it in the steamers which ply between Pará and Manaus. But he had never seen it at this point and he exclaimed in wonder at its beauty. The river was two miles wide and in the center was a broad deep channel down which the water flowed slowly. On each side of this were stretches of shallow water while on either bank grew thick forests of superb trees. Vicenci drew a canoe from a thicket about a sheltered cove in a little party in Barca. Vicenci paddling carefully. Isn't this splendid, cried Afonso. I feel as though I were Orellano discovering the river. Why, what do you know about him, asked his uncle. Oh, he was fine, said Afonso. He was one of Gonzalo Pizarro's lieutenants and he crossed the Andes to find cinnamon trees. He had only fifty men and they built a boat and started down the river and had a terrible time per days.  It told all about him in my geography. Did it tell how he named the river? asked uncle Prudenci. Orellano fell in with an Indian tribe where the women fought side by side with the men.  So he called the river Brio de las Amazones. See those magnificent satin wood trees, said Señor Gias to his brother. Nowhere in all the world is there such wood from which to make fine furniture is here. Then the two gentlemen fell in to talk about business plans. Afonso curled up in the canoe and watched the interesting things they passed. It was a scene of contrast.  He also saw boats laden with rubber and many rafts made of great logs and other by long wooden pins driven through them for their long voyage to Pará. As they continued down the stream, the thatched native huts became fewer and there could be seen the tiled roofs of the country homes of the wealthy. It was not long before Afonso saw gleaming through the trees, the white walls of their own fazenda and landed quickly, goodbye to the Sanchi and rushed across the lawn to tell all his adventures to his mother and Lola. End of chapter 4 along the Amazon. Chapter 5 of Our Little Brazilian Cousin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Roulet. Chapter 5 of Visit to Grandmamas. The fazenda of Senor Gis stood upon a hill overlooking the Amazon. About it were trees and gardens and a small stream flowed through the grounds toward the Great River. A pleasant little summer house was set under a giant palm tree and about the whole place was an air of ease and comfort. Upon the broad pillared veranda and between the shady trees, hammocks were slung for the midday siesta and the life of the villa was cheerful and pleasant. Afonso was very tired the day after his jaunt through the forest and toward evening he lazily lay in a cool hammock swinging back and forth. His sister sat on a cushion at his feet listening in delight to the story of his adventures. Lola was only eight years old and she thought her big brother of eleven, quite the most wonderful boy in the world. How I wish you could have been with me, Lola, said Afonso. Of course you could not, for girls cannot go to the places that boys can, but it was most exciting. What you would like would be to hear V. Sanchi. He told me a wonderful story. Do tell it to me, said Lola, and Afonso told the story of the Gilded Man to her great delight.  What was the Indian's house like? It wasn't a real house, you know, said Afonso. It was a little round hut, all thatched with straw, and he had bows and arrows and all kinds of things. Afonso was rather vague in his description. The trees around were the finest I ever saw. Oh, I'm sure there's no country in the world like ours. Lola smiled, and touching the strings of her guitar sang softly. Miniteja tem palmeiras, onde canta o savia. As aves que aqui gorgejam, não gorgejam como lá. Nosso céu tem mais estrelas. Nosso varsias tem mais flores. Nosso bosques tem mais vida. Nosso viva mais amores. Bravo, little one, cried Uncle Prudenti, who had come out from his siesta refreshed and cool. That was very prettily sung, little patriot. Have you children heard the news? What news, my uncle, asked Afonso? That you are to go home with me tomorrow to see your grandmother. How glad I am, cried Afonso, and Lola danced up and down into light, it is long since we have been in Pará, and the ride on the river will be so pleasant. The next day was bright and fair, and their sail down the great river as pleasant as they had anticipated. The air was cool and the sun partially under a cloud, so that the heat was not too great, and the banks of the stream, with their trees and flowers, presented views as vivid and changing as a kaleidoscope. The city of Pará is one of the most important places in Brazil. From it are sent out into the world all the produce of the wonderful valley of the Amazon, woods, rubber, and fruits. Its markets are busy spots of industry, and its harbor teams with shipping. The mother of the senor Gias lived in a handsome house on the edge of the town. Since the death of her husband, she had lived with her only unmarried son, the uncle Prudente, of whom the children were so fond. She received the travels warmly. Her son, Martin's wife, was very dear to her. His children, her idols, especially Afonso. He was his grandfather's image, with his flashing black eyes, his proud mouth, his quick and petuous manner. He was so like the noble old man she had so loved that he seemed to embody the youth of her beloved dead. You must remain for a long visit with me, she said to the children. I've asked the children of friends to come and play with you in the garden this afternoon. Some of your schoolmates will be here, Afonso, and some little folk for Lola. I hope you will have a pleasant time. Your most kind grandma, cried both children, and when their friends came they all repaired to the shady garden behind the house. There were about a dozen boys and girls, all chattering at once, but in a moment's quiet Lola said, Let us play Dona Sáncha. I should like it so much and we have thirteen, just the right number. Yes, said a little girl, named Catarina. There are seven girls and six boys. One of us must be it. Who shall it be, they all cried merrily, and one of the larger girls stood in a row and repeated, I'm a little widow from the sea coast there. I wish to find a husband, but I cannot tell where. Shall I marry this one? Yes. Shall I marry that one? No. Shall I marry this one? Yes, for I love him so.  They all danced around Constancia, seeing Madame Dona Sáncha, covered with silver and gold, take away your veil then, as we would behold. At this Constancia uncovered her face and sang, I'm the daughter of a count, the grandchild of a king. Behind a stone they made me hide a most peculiar thing. Then the others sang, Valentin, teen, who is married, who is married, she who is not must remain alone. At the last words the boys and girls let go of each other's hands, and each one, including Constancia, made a rush for a partner. Lola was the one left out, and she had to be blindfolded, and take Constancia's place in the center of the ring. So the game went on, each girl taking her turn in the center, as often as she failed to catch a partner in this grumble. When the children were tired of play, their grandmother sent out Crystal Vaughn, an old white-haired negro who had once been a slave, and he had a lot of juggling.  Then they all sat down around the stone fountain, and had a delicious luncheon of doces, cocada, and sweet-cakes, and Alfonso and Lola went to bed that night, quite delighted with their first day in Pará. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 of Our Little Brazilian Cousin This is a LibriVox recording. While LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Roulet Chapter 6 in Routo Rio Pará is one of the most beautiful of Brazilian cities, with large cool houses and squares in gardens gay with wonderful orchids, purple, crimson, golden, white. The weeks spent at Gramamas were full of delight to Alfonso and Lola, and they enjoyed all the pleasant happenings of life in the city. One day in October they sat in the garden playing with the pet monkey, a saucy little creature with a thousand cunning tricks and ways, almost human in his intelligence. I wonder how soon we shall go home, said Alfonso. I begin to worry of doing nothing. I do not know, said Lola, but I heard Mama say something strange about it today. She and my father were talking while I was playing with a cockatoo, and Mama said it will be a long trip, and I should dislike to leave them behind. It would do you little good to go with them, said my father. And Mama replied that the worry of leaving them would take away all the pleasure of the trip if they were not to accompany her. Then she saw me looking and bade my father be silent. What trip could they mean? I am sure I do not know, and you should never remember a conversation not meant for you, said Alfonso, virtuously. Then his curiosity got the better of his virtue. I wonder where they can be intending to go. But if I should not remember what I hear, then you should not either, said Lola pertly, for she did not like to have Alfonso correct her. We are two quite different people, said Alfonso. I am much older than you. When one is old, one should behave better than one who is young, Lola retorted. Both are quite old enough not to quarrel, said their mother's voice sternly as she came up unnoticed. What are you quarreling about? Both children were silent and ashamed. If you dare not tell the cause, then cease the quarrels, said the senora. Then remember that well-bred children do not dispute. Now sit down while I tell you what is going to happen. Your father has intended for some time to make a business trip to Rio de Janeiro going by boat from Pará. He wishes me to go with him, for I have not been well of late, and he thought best to leave you to me. I wish you to accompany me, and some news has just come which has caused him to give his consent. Your uncle Juan, who went to study medicine in Philadelphia, married there a beautiful North American lady and has a little daughter the age of Alfonso. She is named Maria and she had the great misfortune to lose her mother a few months ago. She grieves terribly and her father is bringing her to Brazil and among his people she will grow well and strong again. They will reach Rio de Janeiro in a short time and we want to be there to see them. Would you like to go with us on this trip? Indeed yes mama cried both in one breath. When do we start? Tomorrow she replied. I did not tell you before because I feared you would too much excite yourselves. Then too I thought something might happen and I supported. Hurrah! cried Alfonso. We shall see Uncle Hilario. And I shall see my cousin Martin cried Lola. Yes we shall visit my dear brother and you shall have a very happy time with two cousins to play with. Now you must be good children and give me a chance to pack up your clothes. No questions.  Those you may save to ask me is on Shipwood. Here is a map which shows just where we are going. You may trace out the course and Alfonso can tell you about the places from his geography Lola. And she left the two children pouring over the geography. Their tongues fairly clacking in their excitement. The Acame Abba is a large steamer applying from Manaus to Rio and by noon the next day the little party of four were safely embarked and the steamer made its way out of the beautiful harbor. The long voyage was begun but to Alfonso and Lola it was not tedious. For the only children on board they soon became pets with all and were in a fair way to being spoiled with attention. The second day out the steamer made its first stop at Pernambuco on the eastern most point of Brazil and the children watched the entrance Pernambuco is called the Venice of America said their father. You know Venice is an Italian city built on islands with waterways instead of streets and here there are so many canals and arms of water reaching in from the sea that Pernambuco is called the Venice of America. What a lot of steamers there are exclaimed Alfonso as they approach the reef which protects the harbor. This reef runs along the Brazilian coast for hundreds of miles forming a natural breakwater sometimes 12 feet above high tide. N-I-L-E spelled Alfonso as they passed a huge steamer anchored outside the harbor. What kind of a boat is that? English said his father. The English run the line of steamers from Southampton to Lisbon and then to Rio de Janeiro. These boats carry a thousand passengers so large that they cannot go through the cut in the breakwater. Oh Papa what a queer building what is that as low as they passed an odd looking fort on the rocks. That is a relic of Dutch days in Brazil said the senor. You know the Dutch once claimed all this part of the country. Did they ask Lola in surprise? How did they get here and what became of them? It is a long story little one who is hosting one said her father. You know Brazil was discovered by a Portuguese Pedro Alvarez Cabral who sailed into the bay of Porto Seguro at Bahia April 25th 1500 and took possession of the land in the name of the Portuguese crown named Veracruz. The Spaniards had made discoveries in the north of South America. The English and French had come in Amazon and within the next few years the Dutch entered the river and built forts on the Shingu then came a long struggle between the Dutch and the Portuguese as to who should possess the land. In 1624 a Dutch admiral took possession of Bahia but a handful of Portuguese recaptured the place the next year. Then came a secession of battles first the Dutch being victorious then the Portuguese at last the Dutch sent Prince Morris of Nassau as Governor General of their possessions in Brazil. But he returned to Holland in 1644 and from that time on the Portuguese were successful they laid siege to Pernambuco then called Esífi and blockaded the port with seaforces while the land army assaulted it on the other side. The Dutch surrendered in 1654 and Brazil became a Portuguese colony. Then I suppose everything was peaceful set Afonso but his father laughed and said there has not been much peace in Brazil since the Portuguese first discovered it after the foreigners left the Indians remain unconquered and the Portuguese sent many expeditions against the natives in the interior many adventurers went on these expeditions and they were called Banderanches they treated the Indians cruelly and enslaved many although the pope had forbidden making slaves of the Indians. Another fight which took place near here was with Negro slaves some of them escaped and fled to the forest of Palmeiras in the province of Alagoas here they maintained a colony for 60 years and were only subdued in 1697 some of their chiefs leaped from a high rock into the sea rather than be captured. How did they get slaves in our country as Lola? That's a rather big subject for such a little girl said her father the early settlers could not get anyone to work for them so they brought black people from Africa as did most of the southern countries one good thing was that here slavery was abolished without a drop of blood being shed while in North America they had a terrible war now we are entering the harbor Alfonso see how many ships in one year there were 1181 ships here they come from all parts of the world laden with all manner of things but they nearly all go away afraid it was sugar there are thousands of tons of it exported every year the boat will stop here for some hours so we will go ashore and drive about the city to papa cried the children and their mother added it will be a pleasant change from the ship so the four went ashore and drove about the cheerful city with its gaily painted houses passing one public building glazed in yellow and green tiles another in imitation pink marble trimmed in sky blue crossing a long bridge they saw magnificent gardens with brilliant flowering plants and a fine fruit market where they purchased the luscious pernambuco abacachi the finest flavored pineapple in the world it is a very fine city said Alfonso as they returned to the steamer but not as handsome as Pará Silola, that's the prettiest city in all Brazil and her father left when they steamed into Bahia two days later just at twilight she still insisted that Pará was the most beautiful place in the world but Alfonso was delighted with Bahia Captain Diego Alvarez was one of the early explorers here said the senor as they sat upon the deck in the moonlight watching the crescent of lights which rise from the harbor toward heaven for the main portion of Bahia is built upon a high bluff overlooking the river he was captured by the Indians and was about to be killed when the chief's daughter threw herself in front of him and saved his life Alvarez fell in love with her and married her taking her with him to France where she was honored and cared for all her life some of the best families in Bahia boast that she is their ancestor what are sent out from here asked Alfonso thousands and thousands of coconuts for one thing said the senor it is a fortune for a family to have a cocoa plantation trees produced from 50 to 80 years need little attention after the first year or two they are very easy to raise after planting the weeds are kept away from the trees and during the first year banana plants are grown between the rows to shade the young trees the fourth year the first crop is gathered and the trees produce 200 clusters of fruit with 30 or 40 nuts each people net about $60,000 from the plantation of 50,000 trees it must pay to raise coconuts at that rate said Alfonso does manjoka pay as well not quite but it is about as easy to raise everyone has to have manjoka the rich use it for puddings and desserts in the form of tapioca while the poor people use the farina de manjoka as their chief food it also makes good starch for the roots ground up in water deposit their starch as they find white powder a farm of 12 acres belonging to a friend of mine and plant it with 40,000 plants produces 80,000 pounds of tapioca which at the lowest price brings $2,465 the children are growing up to be regular little encyclopedias said the senora they must go to bed now or I'm afraid their brains will burst with so much knowledge not much danger of that left the senor most of it goes in at one ear and comes out the other but Lola and Alfonso exclaimed indignantly oh no papa indeed it does not end of chapter 6 in route to Rio chapter 7 of our little Brazilian cousin the LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org our little Brazilian cousin by Mary Nixon Roulet chapter 7 in the capital a week after they had left home the children saw for the first time the harbor of Rio de Janeiro the Icameaba entering the beautiful bay the sugarloaf mountain and the fortress of Santa Cruz and all the glory of a Brazilian sunset at the left was the most curious mountain called Serra dos Orcalums so named for its resemblance to a church organ charming islets dotted the bay and orange trees bananas always green and loaded with fruit and flowers everywhere met the eye mountains seemed to rise from the sea the cliffs are nearly perpendicular with scarce a yard of greens ward on the water's edge and they go jealously the most beautiful harbor in the world scarcely two ships can enter between the islands marking the entrance of the bay which is so narrow that the discoverer thought at a river and named it Rio within however the sheet of water widens until it is a glorious inner sea called by the Indians nitroi hidden waters the houses of the city walled in stucco are of a deep canary yellow with roofs tiled in deep red turning to fire beneath the sun's departing rays how beautiful it is said the senora it seems to be my old home never looks so fair it is one of the most beautiful places in the world said her husband see those large buildings children that is the sailor's hospital on ilia da governador which was once used as a hunting preserve by the royal family it is a beautiful island and many strange things have happened there one was the death of the founder of the city he was a famous Indian fighter and here received a fahal wound from an arrow something seems to have happened everywhere in brazil said lola how near we are to land yes cried her mother and there is your uncle waving his hat upon the wharf marchim is with him he sees us wave to him daughter and the usually calm senora flushed and excited waved to her handkerchief smiling happily i'm not seeing you look so gay for months said her husband and she replied it is so long since i've seen my dear old home in my own people the ship was made fast and the children stepped off the gangplank to be greeted warmly by the uncle whom they had not seen since lola was a baby and the cousin whom they had never seen before your aunt louisa and maria are anxiously awaiting you at home he said here's the courage so we will hasten drive through the street do ovidor papa will you not ask marchim it is so gay with the french shops and the cousins will enjoy it marchim was a handsome boy of twelve with a bright pleasant face an only child for the senora lopez had lost all their other children in an epidemic of yellow fever some years before what are those men doing with long poles over their shoulders asked lola pointing to several men who carried bamboo rods with baskets hung at the ends there were bush and vegetable vendors marchim replied some of those baskets weigh over a hundred pounds those other men with the gaily painted tin trunks on their backs petal clothing they make a lot of noise said afansel yes they warn people they are coming by clapping together two pieces of wood fastened to their hands by a leather strap said his cousin oh what a beautiful statue cried lola that is the emperor dompedro the first set her uncle it was made by a noted french sculptor and represents the emperor shouting the brazilian watch word here we are at home as the carriage turned into a broad street on either side of which were old fashioned houses with broad verandas and red and white blinds there is a louisa waiting to welcome you jumped out of the carriage and ran to meet their aunt who kissed them warmly and drew forward a tall girl of ten but looked pale and sad her hair was very light her eyes deep blue and she was a great contrast to black-eyed brown cheek lola this is maria your north american cousin said their aunt and lola kissed her warmly on either cheek we are so glad to have you come she said i wanted to take you home with us for a nice long visit i've always wanted a sister so let us play with your sisters maria kissed her and smiled well aunt louisa said come children it is very late dinner is waiting and all you little folk must get to bed early so you would be ready for tomorrow there are ever so many things for you to see early next day the four cousins set out for a morning sightseeing accompanied by their uncle hilario the senor lopez was one of those rare men who were really fond of children and he enjoyed their society most of the streets of the city have no curbing and the children had to be careful lest they be run down by passing carriages their uncle decided first to take them to the famous botanical gardens and as they entered the main gateway they saw the avenue of fine royal palms the avenue is almost half a mile long said the senor and the trees are a hundred feet high aren't they fine said afanso they are the tallest palms i ever saw they meet together at the top and form a regular archway the whole length of the walk said marcin what is that very high mountain asked lola that is the corcovalo and some day we should go over there and send it said marcin we shall have to start very early in the morning for it is a long trip here comes dr barbosa papa said marcin i wonder if he will go around the gardens with us perhaps he will if he is not too busy if he does he can tell you all about the trees and flowers for he has explored the country along the amazon and knows all about the brazilian flora as the senor spoke dr barbosa came out smiling for he and senor lopes were old friends you have quite a bevy of little folk with you today he said pleasantly this is my nephew afanso geus dr barbosa said the senor and these girls are my nieces charlota and maria of course you know marcin i am very glad to see you all said the doctor with a smile this is the first visit of afanso and his sister to our city said senor lopes indeed replied the doctor i really think then that you should let me help show them around the gardens i have a few moments of leisure just now that i will be glad to devote to you that will be delightful said the senor you know so much about this place and i so little that i am sure the children will love you as a guide bowing in appreciation of the compliment the doctor led the party down the avenue these gardens he said pointing down across the avenue as you see are on the border of a large sheet of water that is called the lagoa and is separated from the sea only by a narrow strip of land what are those crooked twisted trees as they passed into another long avenue they are mongos they are not very handsome to look at but you know what delicious fruit they bear indeed i do said lola this said the doctor pointing to a tall palm beside the pathway is a bayia palm it is from trees of this kind that your brooms and brushes at home are made next they saw the great candelabra tree it looks said Maria as if it were already to be lighted the church doesn't it see the beautiful grove of orange trees said the senor oh yes said Afonso and the trees have both fruit and blossoms on them that is not at all uncommon with many of our tropical fruit trees said doctor barbosa many of the trees here he continued are useful for other purposes than fruit bearing there is the cow tree over yonder its sap looks like milk it looks to be air is soon changed to glue in from this a useful cement is made as the party approached a little lake in the center of the gardens they saw a small eight-sided pavilion on its top was a bust whose statue was that as Afonso if you will step closer you can read the inscription on the tablets of the doctor and that will answer your question to the memory of friar leandro do sacramento of the order of carmelites a graduate in the natural sciences at the University of Coimbra first professor of botany in the school of medicine in Rio and first technical director of the botanical gardens if I can do as much for this beautiful park as friar leandro did I shall be content said doctor barbosa what a magnificent palm that is said the senor Lopez as they turn from the pavilion and came in sight of an unusually tall tree yes said the doctor that is a royal palm over 125 feet high the seed is said to have been brought here by a portuguese naval officer who escaped from prison on the island de france it was planted with great care by the region don juan himself that is this splendid result I'm sorry that I must leave you now but you must come again to see the gardens thank you very much for all that you have shown us at afanso in all the children chorus thank you very much it is past noon and we ought to be at home now said the senor looking at his watch I believe I am hungry said marchin though I hadn't thought about it before so they all went back to the house with appetites such as the balmy that is the most rare of rio gifts to young and vigorous boys and girls end of chapter seven chapter eight of our little brazilian cousin this is a librivox recording all librivox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit librivox.org our little brazilian cousin by mary nixon roulay a gayla day in rio In the fortnight, which followed, four cousins became very well acquainted with each other. Maria soon lost her shyness and taught the others many new games and sports, while they in turn taught her the Brazilian ones, which her father had played when a boy at home. The little Brazilians found their North American cousin very interesting. She was different from them in many ways, and they never tired of hearing her tell of things in the United States. Although admiring her father's country very much, she was devoted to her mothers as well, and could never be made to admit that things were better in South America than they were in the North. Come children said the Senora Lopez one morning, this is the day of the inauguration. The President himself has given your father tickets, for they are great friends and we must all be ready early so as to escape the crowd. Indeed, Mama said Marchine, I think the crowd is the greatest fun of all, I shall never forget the procession the day of the parade in honor of your Senor Ruth Maria. It was one of the finest we ever had in Rio. I wish I had seen it, said Maria, when our President is inaugurated, we have grand processions in Washington. My grandfather took me to the last one and it was splendid. Our inauguration procession is fine too, you will see today that they know how to do things down here as well as you do, said Marchine, as they started for the reviewing stand. I don't doubt that, said Maria pleasantly, but I can't quite make out why you have a President at all. Brazil used to be an empire and have a splendid emperor. You showed me his statue in the park, what became of him? The last emperor of Brazil is dead, my child, said her uncle. He died in Paris in 1891. Some said of a broken heart because he had been sent away from his beloved Brazil. Why did you send him away? Wasn't he a good man? asked Maria. Yes, indeed, very good, and many of the people were very fond of him, was the reply. He was always interested in the people and tried to arrange the laws for the best interest. He was very democratic and traveled about a great deal, kipping his eyes wide open to learn everything which might help his people. He even went to your United States at the time of the Centennial in Philadelphia. If he was so good, why did they send him away? asked Maria puzzled. It is rather hard to explain politics to little folks, said her uncle, smiling. Some of the Brazilians wanted to have a republic like the United States, for they thought that country was so prosperous that they wanted Brazil to be like it. The people thought that the United States had progressed more rapidly and was more prosperous than Brazil, and they did not see why their own land should not be as great or greater than any other American country. Brazil was the only South American country which was not a republic. I think the chief reason, however, was that the heir to the throne was not at all liked, and the Brazilians were afraid that he would not be as wise a ruler as Lom Pedro had been. Even those who most wanted a republic were sorry to have the old emperor expelled. Many of them cried bitterly when he went away. I should think they might have waited until he died, said Maria. If he was old he wouldn't have lived long, and then they needed to have had his heir whom they didn't like. I do not think it was nice at all to send him away when he had always been good and kind. If it had been in the United States you would have shot him. Like you do your presidents, wouldn't you ask Afonso mischievously for he loved to tease his cousin? We have had only three presidents killed out of twenty-six, said Maria, how many of yours have been assassinated? I'm sure I don't know, said Afonso, rather taken aback at the quickness of her retort. In the early days, said Uncle Hilario, before the republic was very firmly established, the presidents used to have to be taken from the armies so they could fight to keep their positions. Now, however, things are quieter and we do not have to have our ruler backed by sword and guns. Here we are at the grandstand. The music is just beginning to draw near. Hurrah! There come the soldiers, cried Afonso. Aren't they fine-looking fellows? What gorgeous uniforms they have, cried Lola, and Maria exclaimed, Aren't the plumed horses splendid?  They had a good look at the two presidents, President Campos Sales, whose term of office was just over, and Afonso Peña, who was the new president, and returned home quite excited with the events of the morning. Next day they had planned an excursion to the top of Corcovalo, that beautiful mountain which rises above Rio, serene and lofty, toward the clouds, and all was excitement as the little party started off. Think of having mama with us, cried Lola. How could he, Lario, have you and mama been up the mountain before? I should say we had, he laughed, and turned to his sister. Do you remember the time we were caught in the terrible storm? It was a terrific cloudburst, but we didn't mind, she said, laughing too. In those days climbing Corcovalo was something of a feat. There was no cogwheel railway, as there is today but only a bridal path. We had to start long before daybreak and climb up the side of the mountain. We had to take servants along to carry provisions, there was always a large party going. The time your uncle speaks of, he and I got separated from the rest of the party going down, and we came near losing our way entirely. There came up a terrible storm, and when we finally arrived at home an hour after the others were drenched to the skin, and they had sent people out to hunt for us. It is a very different thing today to go up the mountain seat in a carriage, find a café at the top, and have nothing to do but look at the sights as we pass. They are well worth looking at, see? There is the bay, it's water as blue as the sky, and you get a fine view of the old aqueduct. I wonder what that was, said Maria. It looks like the pictures I have seen of the Campania at Rome, is it made of stone? Yes, said her uncle, it was built of stone nearly two hundred years ago and is over four miles long. In some places its arches are over sixty feet high, and it is as strong as when it was built. Through it passes all the water drunk and real, and it's so delicious that we have a saying who has drunk of the waters of Carioca can drink no other water. Then when you have drunk of the water of Carioca you can live nowhere else but here. When Rio people speak of the friends who have lived in Rio they say he is a Carioca. Then Mama is a Carioca, Crodlola, and Maria added, and my father too. It seems to almost walk across the chasm, said Afonso, where does the water come from? When we reach the top of the mountain I will show you, said his uncle. See those magnificent waterfalls and cascades. The scenery around here is as fine as any in Brazil. It's almost as nice as the white mountains at home, said Maria wickedly. She loved to stir up her cousins and knew that to compare anything with the states always provoked a discussion. This time her remarks were met with a storm of protest at which she only laughed nautily. I don't believe you have such trees, said Lola at last. There are mangoes, tamarins, breadfruits, bananas, cocoa trees, oranges and palms all growing together, aren't they splendid? Yes indeed, said Maria, and the flowers are simply gorgeous. Those trees with the flowering vinyls draped around them and hang down and long racines are as beautiful as anything I ever saw. Here we are at the end of the railway, said Marcin, now for a climb. It was but a short distance to the top, and the children hurried along, followed more slowly by their elders. Here we are at last, said the senor, as they reached the top. Now you can see seventy miles, for there is Oregon Mount, fifty miles away, and Yandere is Cape Frio, which is seventy miles away. Among the mountain peaks there lies the Sea of Gold, said Uncle Hilario. There is a tale told that in the early Portuguese days in Brazil, the murder, who had been condemned to death, escaped from prison and fled to the hills. He wandered about, fed only by the bounte of the forest, and at last he discovered the Lake of Gold. From its shiny stands he made a fortune and returned in two years to Rio to buy his pardon. The Lake of Gold, said Alfonso. I wonder if that is where the Gilded Man washed himself. Who was the Gilded Man? asked Maria. It's an Indian story, Vicente told me, said Alfonso. Do tell it to me, she said, and he told her the quaint tale with which she was delighted. They lunched in picnic fashion on the grass and had a merry time. Resting afterwards while the senora and uncle Hilario told them stories of old days in Brazil. At last it came time to return, and the two boys, after whispering together, went to their uncle with a request. May we not walk down, Marchimas, we won't get lost, and we want to do what you and mother did. Oh, do let us, cried Maria, who always wanted to do everything the boys did. But the senora shook her head. At last it was arranged that uncle Hilario should walk down with the boys, while the girls went discreetly home in the train with the senora. The boys were jubilant. See the ships, uncle, cried Alfonso as they looked across the bay to the broad lante. They were just over the horizon line. What's that puff of smoke for, as a puff came from a ship nearing the harbor? Watch the fort, said the senora, and there another puff was seen. Eyes are better than ears at this range. That was a salute from the ship, answered by the guns from the fort. We can see the smoke, but cannot hear the report. Here is the source of Carioca. The name is from an Indian word, kari-og, which means the house of the streams from the woods. See how the stream is shaded by these giant trees? That is what makes it so cold. The water flows amidst all matter of sweet-smelling aromatic plants, and goes into an aqueduct full of pleasant scents. It is said to have some medicinal qualities. It is nice enough here to cure any sickness, said Marcin, and they went slowly on down the mountain, following the same bridal path which their uncle had followed so many years before, reaching home without an accident, tired but delighted with the tram. End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of our Little Brazilian Cousin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Relay. Chapter 9. The Coffee Plantation The Sr. Lopez's business was to export coffee, as that of his brother-in-law was to export rubber. He had a large coffee fazenda in Sao Paulo, the province of Brazil, most devoted to coffee-raising, and he often went there to inspect the plantation. He suggested, therefore, that his wife, his sister, and the children should spend a week with him at the fazenda and that two mothers decided to do so, knowing how much pleasure it would give the little folk. It was an all-days ride to Sao Paulo, but there was so much to see as the train moved over the plains, across rivers and through forests and hills that the children did not find a tiresome, and were very bright and gay as, just at sunset, they neared Sao Paulo. This is one of the finest cities of Brazil, said their uncle. One years ago it was not a large place, but now it has 300,000 people, many beautiful buildings, electric lights, and trolley cars. It has also some very good schools and colleges, and students come here from all parts of the country. Perhaps Afonso will go to college here someday. It seems a good ways from home, said the boy, but uncle he added as they passed a crowd of queer-looking people in the station. What a lot of foreigners there are here. Yes, more than in any Brazilian city, a number of Italians work in the mills and on the farms, and the Germans are on the coffee plantations. Tonight we'll rest, and tomorrow morning we'll see Sao Paulo, and in the afternoon go to the Fazenda, said the senior, as they reach the hotel. The next day they had a pleasant drive through the city and saw many interesting things. Mackenzie College is one of the best seats of learning in Brazil, said the uncle. It is on the plan of the North American colleges, with kindergarten, primary grades, and grammar school. There's also a normal school and a manual training shop. You see, you have to copy us, said Maria, with a laugh. All the schools in the states are good. You ought to live there. Marcim made a rye face. Maybe they are, he said, but I don't believe I'd care to live in the states just on account of the schools when I can live here and have a school just as good. Children, said Marcim's mother, what his father hastily interposed. Mackenzie College is named for Mr. John G. Mackenzie of New York City, who gave a large sum of money to build it. But here we are at the Garden of Light. Now you may get out of the carriage and rest yourselves by running around these magnificent alleys of trees, seeing the lakes and fountains. Maria and Marcim do not get along as well as the little girl Anne Afonso, he said to his wife, as soon as the children were out of sight. It doesn't matter, she said serenely. Does not hurt either of them to argue if it doesn't go too far. Children are far better for not being noticed. Afonso gets along better with his cousin because he has Lola to quarrel with. Marcim grows selfish from being too much alone. She sighed and her husband's face clouded as he thought of the children they had lost. We will keep Maria with us if the father is willing as long as she is in Brazil. Better still let both Maria and Marcim return home with us, said the senor Adias, than all four young folk will learn to accommodate themselves to each other. That is an excellent plan, and it is kind in you to suggest it, said the senor Lopez, and her husband at it. We shall try to arrange it that way.  We must return for lunch now as we drive to the Fazenda afterwards. Do you know what we old folk have been planning? No papa, what is it, S. Marcim? Something pleasant, I am sure, said Lola, for you are the dearest uncle in the world. Thank you, little flatterer. He pinched her cheek playfully. It is that you four cousins are all to return to Pará for the winter. Oh, delightful, cried Lola, how nice Maria said, and the boys seemed equally pleased. The afternoon air was clear embracing, and the children were in high spirits as the party drove to the Fazenda. The road wound through a beautiful country, past vineyards and tea and coffee plantations, for Sao Paulo is one of the most productive provinces of Brazil. As they passed row after row of small trees, Lola said, what pretty glossy leaves those trees have. Those are coffee trees, said Marcim. They grow about 12 feet tall. But where are the brown berries, asked Maria? Are they all picked? Marcim laughed. It is easy to see you have never seen coffee growing, he said. Did you think you could go and pick the brown berries and stew a pot of coffee? No, said Maria, demurely, because we don't stew coffee where I live. Everybody laughed at this passage at arms between the two children, and Senor Lopez said, we are beginning to see trees belonging to our plantation now. It is three miles squared. We have just reached the edge of the land. The house is still three miles away. How does the coffee grow, Uncle Hilario, asked Maria? Do you see the cluster of green pods on the trees, my dear? Well, seeds are within the pods, and when they are ripened, must be dried, roasted, and ground before they are ready for your coffee pot. Later in the season, the fruit turns bright red in color and makes a vivid contrast to the foliage of the trees, which is green the year round. The trees planted or did they grow wild like our rubber trees? Asked Alfonso. They are planted in rows and sometimes grow as high as twenty-five feet. Usually they are between ten and fifteen feet high when they first bear fruit, said the Senor. It takes from three to five years for them to bear. When is the harvest time, asked Maria? We have two crops, so there are two harvests, one in February and one in August. Sometimes you see fruit and flowers on the same tree at the same time. The blossoms grow in little white bunches and are very fragrant. I should think it would take a lot of people to pick all this coffee, said Alfonso. It does, if you were to be here next February, you would see hundreds of negroes and Italians, men, women, and children, busy up and down these long rows. Many of them live in those little houses, he said, pointing to a street line with small wooden huts crowded close together. About the houses were scores of small dark-skinned children at play. At the present time, said the Senor, the men and women are at work in the sheds and warehouses, making the coffee ready for market. We shall ship thousands of pounds next month. Tomorrow I'll take you about and show you what we have to do. I wish you might have been here during the harvest season. It is very interesting to watch the pickers with the huge baskets dropped to their shoulders. There is great rivalry among them to see who can be the fastest picker on the place. Before they reached the fazenda, their carriage passed through two gates which closed after them with a spring. And the Senor said, the fazenda factory is always enclosed by one and sometimes two fences, for the cattle graze loose with only a piccanini or the madrini to watch them. It looks like a fortress, said Maria. Yes, and some fazendas are called fortalesa, for that very reason, said her uncle. It is really very much like the old fortresses of futile times, within the walls of which went all manner of things. Inside the fazenda palisades, there are houses of the laborers, apothecaries shop, hospital, warehouses and tejeros, beside the house of the owner. Why are there so few trees, Eslola? Nearly all the trees are cut down to make pasturelands, and only a few shade trees are left, such as those fine palms. Here we are at the house. When you are rested, I will take you about and show you how the coffee is made ready for market. End of Chapter 9. Chapter 10 of Our Little Brazilian Cousin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Roulay. Chapter 10. A Treat in Prospect. The week at the fazenda was a time of pleasant rest to the elders and full of delight to the children. They rode the horses and saw the cows milked and fed the pigs. These last were always taken very good care of by the fazendaero, for they afforded the principle food for all on the plantation. There was very little in regard to coffee raising that the children did not learn, for their inquisitive little noses were poked into every shed and room to see what was going on. Their uncle Hilario went with them one day and explained it all fully, while they listened eagerly. First the coffee goes to this large shed and is dumped into the great vat, he said. The iron thing in the center of the vat is the pulping machine. You see it is round like a cylinder and covered with teeth, and there are holes in the bottom. The teeth are covered on one side with a curved sheet of metal. When the cylinder revolves, water is turned into the vat, and as it flows through the seeds are carried through the holes in the cylinder into tanks where the remaining matter is washed away. Then they go to the drying terrace, he said, as they left the building and went toward a large piece of ground exposed to the blazing sun and covered with cement. Here it is. After the pulp has been removed from the seeds there is left a thick skin. The seeds are spread in thin layers upon the ground and are left to dry thoroughly in the sun, while workmen constantly turn them over and over with rakes to hasten the drying. How long does it take to dry them, asked Marchine? Several weeks, said his father. On some fazendas they use steam heat, but we like the sun-dried coffee much the best. After the seeds are thoroughly dried they are taken to another building and passed through heavy rollers in the chaff separated and blown away. Now we will go to the sorting room, and they entered a long, low building where a number of women and girls were working at long tables piled with heaps of coffee berries. Men were constantly bringing in baskets full of the berries which the women and girls sorted into different grades according to their quality. How fast their fingers fly, said Marie, I don't see how they do it. They have done it so often and practice makes perfect, said her uncle. As they sort the seeds they put them in sacks and the men carry them to another warehouse where they are packed in sacks and wave ready to be shipped. Uncle, what are those girls doing who are flying about everywhere with seeds in their hands? Ask Lola. They gather up all the berries which the men scatter as they carry the coffee about, he answered. You see, we do not want toys to anything. Do you see those wagons being loaded? The coffee in those sacks is ready to go to Sao Paulo and then to Santos to be shipped to North America. Our coffee goes to every part of the world for the coffee of the fazende esperanza is considered especially good. Now you have followed the coffee berry from the trees to the market and I hope you will try to remember all about it. For the coffee industry is one of the greatest in the country. It's ever so interesting, uncle, said Maria, and thank you for telling us about it. I've enjoyed it more than you have, he answered. It is a pleasure to talk to such eager little listeners. Rest yourselves now, for you must be tired with all this tramping. I'm going to the house to see your mother about some plans for tomorrow. Do tell us, uncle, they all cried, but he only shook his head and laughed as he went away. I shall simply die of curiosity if I do not find out what uncle is planning, said Maria. I don't see what good that would do, said Marcime, for you wouldn't be likely to either know about it or to do it if you were dead. Maria made a naughty little face at him and a quarrel seemed eminent when Lola, who had gone to the house when her uncle did, came running toward the waving her hand wildly. Well, what do you think she cried as she ran up to them? The loveliest thing has happened. What cried all the children at once, but Lola was too out of breath to answer. Uncle Hilario is certainly a darling, she said at last. He has prepared the loveliest treat for us. He says that tomorrow we all start for the falls of Iguazu and Maria, your father has come and, but she had no chance to finish her sentence, for Marcime shouted, the falls of Iguazu, hurrah, and ran off to the house while Maria, with a squeal of daddy, pelted after him as fast as she could go. Lola and Afonso looked at each other and laughed. What's it all about, Lolita, he asked, and she answered. Uncle Hilario told me that they had only been waiting. Uncle Juan's arrival to make the excursion to these wonderful falls, and then we start tomorrow. Where are the falls, asked Afonso? Indeed, I don't know, but it is several days' journey, and we can only go part of the way by train. We must take a boat and perhaps ride upon burles. It is far in the woods and very few people go there. Let us go and find out all about it, said Afonso, and the two children hurried to the house as the rest of the party had done. There they found considerable excitement, everyone asking a thousand questions, which were not answered until the mothers placed their fingers in their ears and demanded silence. Maria was seated upon her father's knees. Her usually sober little face, bright with happiness, as she whispered to Lola, he is going to para with us to stay all winter so I can be with him and have you too. Lola gave her hand a loving squeeze, but said nothing, for Uncle Hilario began to speak. The falls of Iguazu children are one of the most beautiful places in all Brazil. They lie at the joining of the para and Iguazu rivers at the point where the frontiers of Brazil, Paraguay, and Argentina meet. We will go by rail to Curitiba, but part of the way lies through the mountains and will be hard to travel. The sail down the river will be delightful.  Uncle Juan, Marcine, and I, your father and mother, Lola, are going. Who else wants to be in the party? I cried all three children at once and Lola added, we'll be so good, Uncle, if we can only go. Well, you may all go then, said the senor Lopez. And I think it will be a delightful trip. No, as they all started to ask questions. Don't ask me a thing today. There will be plenty of time to talk about it on our journey and I have not a moment to spare for it takes a great deal of planning to get such a party off. Yes, and I have all I can possibly attend to, said Lola's mother, so you little folk must amuse yourselves. I'm the only one who has nothing to do, said Uncle Juan. Suppose you all come out under the palms with me and I will try to tell you something of the country we're going to see. So joyfully they trooped after him and listened spellbound to his words. The country where we are going, he said, is called the land of the missions because it is here that the early missions were founded by the Jesuits. These devoted men went all over that part of Brazil trying to convert the Indians and making settlements, some of which are still standing after 200 years. San Ignacio, though deserted by the Indians, is still in existence near Iguazu and there was once a prosperous Indian settlement built around a plaza with his school, glowing houses and a church. The falls are magnificent, but you'll have to wait and see them before you can understand how really beautiful they are. Not so beautiful as Niagara, Father, of course, said Maria. And her father said, some people think they are quite his fine daughter, but have you a chip on your shoulder now about the States? Maria would never admit to any North American that anything in the States could be finer than it was down here, he added to the boys.  She never would let us praise anything here because she always said the States were finer. The States were mamas, she murmured. And her father held her close and kissed her as he whispered, little loyalty. End of chapter 10, chapter 11 of Our Little Brazilian Cousin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Rulé. Chapter 11, The Falls of Iguazu. The morning dawn cooled and pleasant, all were ready for an early start. And there followed a week of delight for the children. The railway journey over, they took their way through the forests, over plains and across rivers. In some, the hoofs of the horses or the sure-footed little burrows, the children rode, sank in the sand which covered the land as, at one time, the sea had covered it. Again, trees appeared, and at last they reached the virgin forest where monkeys scampered among the trees and cries of parrots were heard in the air as their brilliant plumage flashed in the sunlight. At times, the bridal path was so narrow that no two horses could have passed each other had they met. Convalvulas and creeping plants had circled the huge trees and swaying in the breeze, long vines swung gracefully down, often forming natural swings in which the children delighted. At night the party camped in tents, the negro servants cooking wonderful meals from the game shot during the day. The days were not too hot and at night the fire was often necessary for when the tirral did not blow from the land, the veracau laughed at zeffers from the ocean. The air was laden with a subtle perfume of the magnolia and orange blossom, and life seemed an existence of pleasure and joy. The Senoras trip had not been all for pleasure. It was his intention to increase his export trade in native woods and he had made the journey through the forest to see whether it would be possible to get wood to the sea. Were he to buy attractive land in this region? The children, however, knew nothing about this. They were occupied with having a good time and they were having it. Marchim and Afonso hunted and fished while the girls fied with each other and weaving rush baskets and in making flower chains of the wonderful flowers which grew everywhere along the road in gorgeous beauty. As they neared Iguazu, the roar of the cataract could be heard for miles. When they finally saw the falls beyond the first surprised oh, which broke from all, there was nothing said. The river Iguazu makes a sharp bend above the falls and a portion of it rushes around the inner bank and falls into a gorge 210 feet deep. The remainder of the current, however, sweeps over the edge of a cliff and making two great leaps of 100 feet falls in a huge half moon 3,000 feet wide. All about was the most charming Brazilian scenery with trees over 100 feet high, overgrown with tropical vines and above all shown the deep blue tropical sky. Well, little Yankee, how about Niagara now? Ask Marchim teasingly. There's only one Niagara, said Maria Sterdely and her father at it. Niagara and Iguazu cannot be compared. The one is surrounded by cultivated parks in thriving modern cities. The other with the abandon of nature. Niagara makes a single leap over a precipice 180 feet high while Iguazu is broken and fall but far wider. Either one is a possession for any country to be proud of and neither one is worth a single quarrel. We are at a camp here for some days. I hope you little folk will have a nice time and I'm not going to issue a lot of commands to spoil your pleasure. Only one thing is forbidden. You must never go away from camp without one of the servants unless you are with one of us grown people.  Yes, sir, they all added and he added, I'm sure I can trust you. The forest is full of all matter of animals and creeping things and it would be very easy to lose your way so that we could never find you again. Now have all the fun you can for a week here will soon be over. What orgies of delight followed. The girls bathed in the stream and ran wild in the sunshine, happy and tanned, going to the forest with the boys except when they were going hunting. Several days before the return home, the whole party went up to San Ignacio to see the ruins of the old mission in the heart of the woods. Huge trees marked the side of the flourishing town were once were cheerful homes which only 80 years ago were burned. So well were these dwellings built that the ruins are an excellent preservation and the children played hide and seek in and out of the deserted walls. Their merry laughter waking the echoes of the past. Maria had taught them the game she called High Spire and they enjoyed it greatly, she most of all. Now then, Marcin, it's your turn to be it, she said. And you can't find me as she sped away to hide in some new and strange place. Before she knew it she had gone farther into the forest than she meant and she did not know how to return. She turned this way and that, but there seemed no path. All about her the woods hemmed her in everywhere like a great green curtain. Then catching her foot in a swing vines she fell and hurt her ankle. Frightened she stood under a great magnolia to think. I must not be silly in cry, she said to herself. I can't have gone very far. And if I sit still, they'll be sure to come and find me. If I go on I may just get farther and farther away. I'm going to stay right here anyway until my ankle is better as she seated herself quietly. Maria was a brave child and old for her age and she sat quite still though the tears came into her eyes. Soon she grew very drowsy and could hardly keep awake for the woods were full of soft cooing sounds and that last she dropped asleep. It was almost twilight when she awoke in the rays of the setting sun gleamed between the leaves. Drowsily stirring she heard the sound of voices and sitting up suddenly she saw a little Indian girl talking to a splendid cockatoo which perched upon her head. The parrot was chattering in Portuguese and his little mistress was talking to him lovingly but she sprang away and fried as Maria got up from the ground. Can you show me the way to the camp? She asked. I'm lost. What camp? Where did you come from as the Indian? She was a little younger than Maria and dressed in an equate little peasants costume of blue skirt and red blouse with a huge straw hat upon her black hair. Quickly Maria told her story and the little girl said I can take you back. You must have run very quickly to have come so far. We must start at once to reach the mission before dark. Well thank you ever so much said Maria. I'm so anxious to get back for my father will be hunting for me. He might hunt all night and not find you for the forest as many paths said the little girl. She had a sad little face but it was very sweet when she smiled. What is your name? Asked Maria as the two girls trudged along through the forest. Her companion still carrying the cockatoo.  That is my Indian name but I am also called Teresa.  My father is dead also said Goatcha. We were of the Mission Indians but all my own people died of the fever two years ago. But who do you live with asked Maria? Have you no friends at all? Oh I live with some of the Indians who were my father's friends said Goatcha and Chiquita here is my good friend and she smiled at the bird who chattered to her gaily and pecked gently at her cheek. I wish you could go home with me cried Maria impulsively and just then she heard a shout resounding through the forest. Maria, Maria sounded her father's voice and the two little girls hurried along faster. Maria answering the call as loudly as she could. In a few moments they came inside of the camp and Maria was caught to her father's breast and kissed and scolded all in the same breath while the rest of the children gathered around. Eager with questions all but Goatcha who stood apart wistful and silent. Maria did not forget her however for escaping from her father's arms. She took the little Indian girl by the hand and said, scold me all you want to daddy though I did not mean to run away but be kind to Goatcha who brought me back and who has no father. Then the little Indian was made welcome thanked and made much of. And the senora said, you must stay all night with us dear child for it is too late for you to return home through the forest. Will they be worried about you? Thank you senora, I will stay, she said simply. There was no one at all to worry about me. End of chapter 11. Chapter 12 of our little Brazilian cousin. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Our little Brazilian cousin by Mary Nixon Relay. Chapter 12, Goatcha. Chiquita and Goatcha proved a pleasant addition to the happy circle of little folk for though shy at first the little Indian soon thought out in the genial atmosphere about her. Many quite little stories she told of Indian ways and customs, legends of the times of the Inca conquest and stories of the days when her forefathers had been casiquies of the tribe.  The evening before they were to return to Sao Paulo all sat around the campfire, laughing, talking and telling stories. Goatcha beside Maria for the two little girls had grown nearly inseparable. The green and red cockatoo was perched upon Goatcha's shoulder half asleep but when his little mistress laughed he chuckled sleepily that half-amused, half-contemptuous laugh which makes a parrot seem so human. Tomorrow we start toward home, said Lola, dreamily as she sat resting her head against her mother's knee. Saldagi, little daughter, asked her father, oh no, Papa, how could I be really homesick when I'm having such a delightful time with my cousin, said Lola, sweetly. But I should like to see Grandma Ma on para and my dear old nurse at the fazenda. I want to see Joaquim and Vicente, said Afonso. I want to see Mama, said Marcin. Big boy that he was. He was not ashamed of being devoted to his mother. Maria's eyes filled with tears and she slipped one hand into her father's and he held it tight. The senora hummed lightly under her breath the sweet Brazilian home sweet home. Then the young folk took up the strain and sang together. Mine is the country where the palm trees rear their stately heads toward the azure sky and where an accent's ever soft and clear the sabia sings her hymn of melody. Here in my exile say what warblers rare can with the sabias notes their own compare. Friendless, alone at night I dream of thee my slumbering senses wrapped in peace and bliss. I see the palms, the sabias melody falls on my ears. Once more I feel the kiss of lips I love. I wait. The vision's gone, the sabia to his native woods has flown. Spare me, O God, until in peace I lie asleep forever in the land I love. Then may the sabia Carol joyfully perched in the palms my resting place above. So gathering in the first fruits of my love no longer homesick every heartache past bearing the sheaves for which in grief I strove the plenteous harvest may I reap at last. As they finished, Maria heard from the slight figure beside her a sigh that was almost to sob. She turned quickly to find Guache's eyes filled with tears, fixed upon her. What is it, she whispered, are you ill? Oh, no, said Guache. But you all love each other so dearly and I have no one to love.  You have me, said Maria. But you are going away from me, she answered mournfully.  You may come with us, if you will. O Papa, cried Maria, her face alight with eager delight. Will you really take Guache back with us? I thought you might like to have her go back with us and play that she was your sister, he said pleasantly. Your aunt says she will take care of you both during the rest of the year. And the old people who have cared for your little friend are ready to give her to us if she wants to come. How about it, Guache?  She looked from him to Maria, from Maria to the senora, who smiled at her kindly. May I take Chakitas, she asked? He hasn't a friend in all the world but me. Of course you may take your birdie, my dear little girl, said the senora. And we shall all hope to have you very happy with us. Guache gave a contented little sigh and slipped her hand into Maria's. You're all so good, she said. I could never be anything but happy with you. It will be ever so jolly broke out Afonso, the irrepressible. Yes, said Marcim, I'll have another girl cousin to tease, but she won't treat me as unkindly as you treat your Brazilian cousins, Maria. Well, maybe not left, Maria, but you know, Guache is the only one of you who is really and truly my little Brazilian cousin. End of chapter 12, End of Our Little Brazilian Cousin by Mary Nixon Roulet.