[116] A man of colour with whom I was acquainted possessed several tame oxen, some of which with a cart he used to hire to the planters by the day, and one or other of his sons attended to drive them. Two of these animals were stolen, and a suspicion falling upon a man of reputed respectability in the country, who had rented a sugar plantation not far distant, one of the sons of the owner of the oxen determined to try to ascertain the fact. He dressed himself in leather, as a disguise, and rode to the dwelling of the person in question, where he arrived at dusk. The master of the house was not at home, but he spoke to the housekeeper, saying, that he had just arrived from the Sertam with cattle on sale, which would reach the neighbourhood on the following morning; he requested to know if she thought her master would purchase his drove. She answered in the affirmative, but said that he had better stay all night, for the purpose of seeing the intended purchaser, who would arrive on the next day. The false Sertanejo told her not to be uneasy about his accommodation, as he would sleep in the mill, to which he rode, and there he remained very quietly during the early part of the night. When all was still he began to search for the hides or horns of his oxen. The former would be recognised by the private mark, which was made (as is usual) with a red-hot iron upon the right haunch, and the latter he would know from the peculiar bore of their tips (by which they are in part harnessed to the cart) for he had bored them himself, and was in the constant habit of driving these oxen; besides, tame oxen are so seldom killed, that if he found any horns which were bored, he might presume that they were those of his beasts. He had given up his search, and almost all hope of finding what he sought, when, as he lay in his hammock, he happened to cast his eyes upwards, and saw two fresh out-stretched hides hanging to the higher wood-work of the mill. He scrambled up the timbers with a lighted piece of wood in one hand; and moving this to and fro near to the hides, that it might give a better light, he discovered that they bore his father’s mark. He lost no time in cutting from both of them the pieces which contained the mark, and carefully preserving these he mounted his horse about two o’clock in the morning and rode home. He kept the bits of leather as trophies, and shewed them in proof of his former assertions respecting the person who had stolen the oxen, but neither did he obtain, nor did he expect to obtain any redress. These transactions occurred in 1811, and within five leagues of Recife.
[117] It has obtained the name of formiga de roça. The word roça means literally a piece of land that has been planted, of which the native wood has been cut down and cleared away. But at the present day, in Pernambuco, the word roça is applied to the mandioc plant exclusively; thus a peasant will say “hum bom roçado de roça,” a good field of mandioc. The word roçado is used in speaking of any kind of field; as for instance, a fine roçado for cotton,—a fine roçado for cane, &c.
[118] In the Nouvelle Relation de la France Equinoxiale, by Pierre Barrere, I find that the great red ant is as troublesome in the neighbourhood of Cayenne as in the part of South America which I visited. p. 60.
[119] Labat says, “Cet insecte engraisse les volailles.” I know that fowls are fond of the insect; but the peasants of Pernambuco prevent the poultry from eating it, because they say that such food gives a bad taste to the flesh; this is, I think, by no means improbable, for the copim has a most disagreeable smell. This author afterwards continues the same subject, saying, “Il y a deux sortes de bois qui ne sont pas de leur goût; l’acajou et le bois amer. Cela vient de ce que le suc et le bois de ces deux arbres est extrémement amer.”—Nouveau Voyage, tom. ii. p. 389 and 392.
I do not know what tree he means by the bois amer, which in another place he calls Simarouba. I well know that the red ant will not molest the leaves of the acaju tree; but the same occurs with regard to many other plants. The leaves of the acaju are certainly extremely bitter.
[120] “Como a lua era forte.”
[121] I have seen Piso’s account of the snakes of Brazil; and although the description which I have given of those which I saw, and of which I heard, differs somewhat from his, I have allowed mine to remain as it originally stood. Piso mentions the root of the jurepeba plant as being efficacious in curing the bites of snakes. Is this the jurubeba? If so, it is surprising that it should not now be used for this purpose. The jurubeba is to be found in almost all situations; a small shrub which yields a fruit resembling the potatoe apple. A decoction of the root is taken frequently at the present day for coughs and colds.
Piso likewise speaks of the caatia, or caiatia, or caacica plant, which he says, has deservedly obtained the name of the herva de cobras; his description of it at p. 102, agrees in some respects with that of the herva cobreira, of which I have spoken at chapter 12; but it can scarcely be the same, for mine would have been more plentiful if it had been indigenous.
[122] History of Brazil, vol. i. p. 47.
[123] History of Brazil, vol. i. p. 485.