since I left Europe, did I see fields and hills of sand. The town
itself, situated upon a hill, presents a tolerable appearance; it
contains about 22,000 inhabitants, and is a place of considerable
importance for the internal commerce of the country. In spite of
this, however, it has neither an inn nor any other place where
strangers can alight.

After inquiring for a long time in vain for lodgings, we were
directed to a German and a Frenchman, with the remark that both
received lodgers out of pure politeness. We first went to the
German, who very bluntly cut us short by saying that he had no room.
From him we proceeded to the Frenchman, who sent us to a Portuguese,
and on visiting the latter we received the same answer we had
obtained from the German.

We were now greatly embarrassed; the more so, because the wearisome
nature of our journey had so fatigued the Frenchman that he was
hardly able any longer to sit upright in his saddle.

In this critical position I thought of the letter of recommendation
that Herr Geiger had given me in Rio Janeiro, for a German gentleman
of the name of Loskiel, who had settled here. I had intended not to
deliver this letter until the next day, but "necessity knows no
law," and so I paid my visit the same evening.

He was kind enough to interest himself for us in the warmest manner
imaginable. He gave one of the gentlemen and myself lodgings in his
own house, and our two companions in that of a neighbour of his,
inviting all of us to dine at his table. We now learned that in St.
Paulo no one, not even an hotel-keeper, will receive a stranger if