egrets and cranes, and the succulent plants assuming most fantastical
forms, gave to the scene an interest which it would not otherwise have
possessed. The few stunted trees were loaded with parasitical plants,
among which the beauty and delicious fragrance of some of the orchideae
were most to be admired. As the sun rose, the day became extremely hot,
and the reflection of the light and heat from the white sand was very
distressing. We dined at Mandetiba; the thermometer in the shade being
84 degs. The beautiful view of the distant wooded hills, reflected in
the perfectly calm water of an extensive lagoon, quite refreshed us. As
the venda [1] here was a very good one, and I have the pleasant, but
rare remembrance, of an excellent dinner, I will be grateful and
presently describe it, as the type of its class. These houses are
often large, and are built of thick upright posts, with boughs
interwoven, and afterwards plastered. They seldom have floors, and
never glazed windows; but are generally pretty well roofed. Universally
the front part is open, forming a kind of verandah, in which tables and
benches are placed. The bed-rooms join on each side, and here the
passenger may sleep as comfortably as he can, on a wooden platform,
covered by a thin straw mat. The venda stands in a courtyard, where
the horses are fed. On first arriving it was our custom to unsaddle
the horses and give them their Indian corn; then, with a low bow, to
ask the senhor to do us the favour to give up something to eat.
"Anything you choose, sir," was his usual answer. For the few first
times, vainly I thanked providence for having guided us to so good a
man. The conversation proceeding, the case universally became
deplorable. "Any fish can you do us the favour of giving ?"--"Oh! no,
sir."--"Any soup?"--"No, sir."--"Any bread?"--"Oh! no, sir."--"Any
dried meat?"--"Oh! no, sir." If we were lucky, by waiting a couple of
hours, we obtained fowls, rice, and farinha. It not unfrequently
happened, that we were obliged to kill, with stones, the poultry for
our own supper. When, thoroughly exhausted by fatigue and hunger, we
timorously hinted that we should be glad of our meal, the pompous, and
(though true) most unsatisfactory answer was, "It will be ready when it
is ready." If we had dared to remonstrate any further, we should have
been told to proceed on our journey, as being too impertinent. The
hosts are most ungracious and disagreeable in their manners; their
houses and their persons are often filthily dirty; the want of the
accommodation of forks, knives, and spoons is common; and I am sure no
cottage or hovel in England could be found in a state so utterly
destitute of every comfort. At Campos Novos, however, we fared
21