CHAPTER IV.

RIDE UP COUNTRY.

Paraopeba.

July 29, 1883.-On arriving at Carandahy last night, I went at once to the post-office, but heard no tidings of the missing letters; then, as the horses were waiting, I started with my camarade, who met me at the hotel, for this place-a long, rather difficult, very lonely and somewhat weird ride, especially when there is no moon, which was the case last night. It is mostly through forest, which in the deathlike stillness of a pitchy dark night has a very gaunt appearance. We were over three hours riding the eleven miles, and arrived here at nine, to find Mr. Bithell, who came over with us in the Cotopaxi, and is now looking about for work with us, having nothing particular to do, and I hope he will be successful.* He came up from Rio de Janeiro the day I went down, so passed me in the train, and has been vegetating here ever since, daily expecting my return.

I am now going further up country, as it is necessary to see the chief without delay, and Mr. Bithell is to accompany 'me, which I am glad of, especially as he can speak the

*He was with us from September until we left Brazil, and was then engaged on the Trans-Andine Railway from Buenos Aires to the Pacific.

language well, having lived in Santa Catherina for five

years.

The following letter was handed. me last night at Carandahy :

“SIR,

"To Doctor Dent, Esq.

"As I have some practise of Engenier's emploied, for fields works, I beg you, if you please, toi take me for your emploied on the exploration works, and you could see what I said by this letter I joint to it.

"You may answer me for Carandahy, on the Province Telegraph's Estation.

"I am, sir, wishing you good health,

"Your thank venerator,

"JOSEPH PETER OF REIS."

I told the good fellow I had no prospect of engaging him at present, but would give his letter to the chief.*

I have another charge against the postal authorities. I wrote from Rio to my landlord here on the 21st, telling him not to expect me till he saw me. That letter never arrived. He sent the horses every day to meet me, and finally telegraphed the day before I left to know when I was returning. I wired a reply, and the consequence was that the horses met me when I arrived.

Cajurú, Minas Geraes.

August 5, 1883.-On the 30th ult. we determined to start as early as possible on our week's ride; however, my mule got loose during the night, and after four hours' hunt, she turned up about 10.30. I have not been fortunate so far with my beasts. The chief bought me a horse at

* I never heard any more of him.

E

Brumado, which I rode back to Paraopeba; he was then ill, suffering from a kind of influenza. While I was at Rio, my camarade dosed him with about twenty different remedies; but, or perhaps consequently, he became so bad that it was impossible to ride him. I was, therefore, compelled to hire a mule. She has, I fear, been infected by my horse, and, after the same preliminary symptoms, has now “come out all over spots, and I think it's something catching (Sloper). Her hair is all coming off in patches, her face being already quite bald. She is an awful sight. I am ashamed to ride her.

Now to describe our journey so far. Leaving soon after my mule was caught, we rode over those thirty miles of country I am becoming familiar with, and lodged with my good friend Senhor Baptista at Brumado, who, semper eadem, received us à bras ouverts. Next morning, leaving there after breakfast, we began the ascent to the watershed of the two rivers, Paraopeba and Para, both of which, flowing nearly parallel, are tributaries of the São Francisco.*

On the roadside we came across a small dead tree, on whose branches were perched fifteen orioles (Cassicus persicus, Linn.), and the concert produced by their all singing together was beautiful. Like most other birds here, they were very tame, and allowed us to approach quite close before they flew off. They are about the size of a blackbird, with gorgeous yellow and black plumage. At 2 p.m. we reached a hill capped by a great bare white rock, called Pedra Branca, from whence we had a splendid panorama of the hills and mountains, the Serra do Cortume (half-way between Paraopeba and Brumado) being some twenty-five miles to the south-east. The general character of all the hills close to the Pedra Branca is bare,

*Our ride can be traced on the map.

grass-covered, rounded down (campos), with occasional cañons; but towards the divide, to the north, are forest-clad hills.

In half an hour we descended to the Fazenda da Pedra Branca, where we had coffee and a trayful of most luscious oranges. A toucan's head was in the porch, which the owner gave me as I admired it, telling me they are very plentiful here. The house, which is over two hundred years old, is exactly the same in its arrangements as all other fazendas; in fact, I believe these country-folk have never changed since their ancestors took possession, a couple of centuries ago. They grow castor-oil (mamona), coffee-with which the whole courtyard was covered to dry in the sun-sugar-cane, cotton, and tobacco. There were a lot of cats about, the most miserably small skinny little things I ever saw. One of them was very clever at turning somersaults; she put her head between her front legs, and went head over heels with the gravest look on her face all the time, which amused us much.

After an hour's stay we left, and, passing through some fine forest, arrived at 5.30 on the top of the divide, where three roads meet. There was nothing but bare grass-covered hills to be seen, no indication of the proper road, and not a sign of a human habitation or of any cultivation. We halted to consider our best move. Being just about sunset we were rather anxious, for it was far from pleasant to be overtaken by night, not knowing the road (my camarade never having been beyond Brumado), with nothing to protect us from the cold and heavy dew, and, worse still, without food. We determined to go straight on, and began to descend. In a quarter of an hour we were much relieved to descry a light shining through the deepening darkness, and approaching, we came upon a little farm in a hollow, unseen from the top of the hill,

The owners of the Fazenda do Campo Novo (for so is the place called) received us with the usual kindly welcome which the hospitable Mineiros * generally extend to stray travellers. And while dinner was being prepared, we strolled into the farmyard and examined the milho (Indian corn) stores, where two little puppies were playing about, and a hen, with chickens peeping from under her wings, was settling down for the night. The owner is a widow, who lives here with her two sons-fine lads of sixteen and seventeen; the latter manage the whole work of the farm. They grow sugar-cane, maize (milho), and mandioca, and have also a large garden full of orange trees, whence we watched the slaughter of the chicken which was to be part of our evening meal.

This fazenda is one of the less extensive kind; but they are all about equally devoid of any of the comforts or decencies of civilization. The floor throughout is the hard ground; the window-frames are supplied with shutters only, which are closed at night; the rooms have no ceilings except the brown roof tiles, and these are fixed to cross laths lying on the rafters; the partition walls only reach to the level of the wall-plate, on which rest the rafters of the sloping roof, and thus plenty of access for light and air is afforded under the eaves.

I had a room to myself, with a most comfortable mattress of the usual milho spathes. Next morning I woke as it was getting light; all was as yet still, and, opening the shutter, I found it cold and misty. In about five minutes the silence was broken by the cocks crowing, and then the dogs began to bark, chickens to chirp, pigs to grunt, men to talk, and all was suddenly lively again. After coffee, and compelling our benevolent hosts to accept a

Inhabitants of the province of Minas Geraes.