450 A JOURNEY IN BRAZIL. 



dent had kindly detailed to accompany us, Mr. Agassiz. 

 and myself. We had a servant, also provided by the 

 President, one of his guard, and two men, with a couple 

 of pack-mules for baggage and provisions. We started 

 so late in the day, that our first ride was but a league 

 or io out of the town ; short as it was, however, we did 

 no; escape several showers, always to be expected at this 

 season. Yet the ride was pleasant ; a smell as of huckle- 

 berry meadows came from the low growth of shrubs cover- 

 ing the fields for. miles around, and the very earth was 

 fragrant from the rain. As we left the city, low clouds, 

 full of distant showers, hung over the serras, and gave 

 them a sombre beauty, more impressive, if less cheerful, 

 than their sunshine look. At six o'clock we reached Aran- 

 cho, a village where we were to pass the night. As we 

 rode in at dusk, it seemed to me only a little cluster of low 

 mud-houses ; but I found, by daylight, there were one or 

 two buildings of more pretentious character. We stopped 

 at the end of the principal street, before the venda (village 

 inn). At the door, which opened across the middle, al- 

 lowing its lower half to serve as a sort of gate, stood 

 the host, little expecting guests on this dark, rainy night. 

 He was a fat old man, with a head as round as a bullet, 

 covered with very short white curly hair, and a face 

 beaming with good nature, but reddened also by many 

 potations. He was dressed in white cotton drawers with 

 a shirt hanging loose over them ; his feet were stocking- 

 less, but he had on a pair of the wooden-soled slippers, 

 down at heel, of which you hear the "clack, clack' in 

 every town and village during the rainy season. He 

 opened the gate and admitted us into a small room fur- 

 nished with a hammock, a sofa, and a few chairs, the mud 



