They twist a cord to make their hammock-bed,
Their bow-string, line, and net for catching fish.
Their food is simple—fish and cassava-bread,
With various fruits, and sometimes forest game,
All season’d with hot, pungent, fiery peppers.
Sauces and seasonings too, and drinks they have,
Made from the mandiocca’s poisonous juice;
And but one foreign luxury, which is salt.
Salt here is money: daily they bring to me
Cassava cakes, or fish, or ripe bananas,