72 A JOURNEY IN BRAZIL. 

upon the road were often as amusing as they were pic- 
turesque. Now we came upon a troop of pack mules 
with a tropeiro (driver) at their head ; if a large troop, 
they were divided into companies of eight, with a man 
to guide each company. The guard wound his horn to 
give warning of our coming, and a general struggle, gar- 
nished with .kicks, oaths, and many lashes, ensued, to 
induce the mules to make way for the coach. These 
troops of mules are beginning to disappear from the sea- 
board since the modern improvements in railroads and 
stage lines, making transportation so much easier ; but 
until lately it was the only way of bringing down the 
produce from the interior. Or again we fell in with a 
line of country wagons made of plaited bamboo, a kind of 
fabric which is put to a variety of uses here, such as the 
building of fences and lining of ceilings or roofs, as well 
as the construction of carts. Here and there the laborers 
were sitting in groups at the roadside, their work suspended 
while they cooked their midday meal, their kettles hanging 
over the fire, their coffee-pot simmering over the coals, 
and they themselves lying about in gypsy-like freedom 
of attitude. 
At Posse, the third stage of our road, after having 
gone some thirty miles, we also stopped to breakfast, a 
meal which was by no means unacceptable after our three 
hours' ride. It is an almost universal custom with the 
Brazilians, especially when travelling, to take their cup of 
black coffee on rising, and defer their more solid break- 
fast till ten or eleven o'clock. I do not know whether 
my readers will sympathize with me, but I am always dis- 
appointed myself if any book of travels, having led me 
along the weary road, does not tell me what the hungry 
