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June 12 - Santos

We arrived in Santos at eight o'clock, and it was nice to have a steady ship under us, even if we were too busy to go ashore.  Mr. Parsloe came down to meet us, and in the afternoon, when we had fed our stick and got things more or less cleaned up, we went ashore.  He took us shopping for feed pans and bird seed, and then took us out to his charming little house, right on the beach, for drinks.  His wife is an Argentine, and a very jolly little woman.

Alex Daveron turned up, with a collection of animals that Bill really doesn't want.  He had dinner with us on board ship, and told us great tales of his adventures in Matto Grosso, in particular of a tribe of bearded, almost white, Indians, who speak silently to each other, depending more on li-reading than on actual sound.

June 13c- Santos

We worked all morning with the animals, Frances and I beginning to be very fond of the young ostriches, whose appetites and curiosity and friendliness are all on a par.  The Parsloes came on board to have lunch with us.  John T. Jones, the would-be animal dealer whom Bill had tried to discourage on the way down, appeared with six capybaras, and Bill took one pair off his hands.

We sailed at six-thirty without having gone ashore all day.  From the ship we could hear firecrackers going off all over town, and learned that it was because today is the feast of St. Anthony.  The lovely lights of the city were all a-twinkle when we started down the bay, and the city was crowned with the lights of the Casino on Mont Serrat, high above the town.  The building as outlined at night, is a square box, with no apparent [[strikethrough]] dim [[/strikethrough]] more reality than a cardboard palace.  Next door to the Casino is a famous chapel, but that is not illuminated at night.

Daveron joined the ship, and came with us, as far as Rio, being very seasick, for as soon as we were out of the harbor the ship began to pith quite badly.

June 14 - Rio

We docked early in the morning, but never left the ship all day.  Bertha Lutz and Dusky Gillette came on board to see us, but we had too much to do to get off.  Also we don't trust our cages, for a screamer got out again in the might, and Bill was wakened at two in the morning to go out and recapture it.  Nights are pretty hellish, what with frogs croaking at the foot of my bed, and screamers, nutria and wild dogs making plenty of racket [[strikethrough]] right [[/strikethrough]] five feet from the head of my bed.  In spite of our efforts at cleaning cages, the animals begin to smell.  And last night when I got into bed, I found it full of birdseed that had blown in the open port.