anxiety, and enjoyed the most tranquil repose.

I know very few countries in Europe where I should like to traverse
vast forests, and pass the night in such awfully lonely houses,
accompanied by only a hired guide.

On the 7th of October, also, we made only a short day's journey of
twenty miles, to the small town of Canto Gallo. The scenery was of
the usual description, consisting of narrow, circumscribed valleys
and mountains covered with endless forests. If little fazendas, and
the remains of woods which had been set on fire, had not, every now
and then, reminded us of the hand of man, I should have thought that
I was wandering through some yet undiscovered part of Brazil.

The monotony of our journey was rather romantically interrupted by
our straying for a short distance from the right road. In order to
reach it again, we were obliged to penetrate, by untrodden paths,
through the woods; a task presenting difficulties of which a
European can scarcely form an idea. We dismounted from our mules,
and my guide threw back, on either side, the low-hanging branches,
and cut through the thick web of creepers; while, one moment, we
were obliged to climb over broken trunks, or squeeze ourselves
between others, at the next we sank knee-deep among endless
parasitical plants. I began almost to despair of ever effecting a
passage, and, even up to the present day, am at a loss to understand
how we succeeded in escaping from this inextricable mass.

The little town of Canto Gallo is situated in a narrow valley, and
contains about eighty houses. The venda stands apart, the town not
being visible from it. The temperature here is warm as in Rio