A NATURALIST IN BRAZIL 



A national dish consists of a fowl cooked in its own blood, the meat 

 thereby becoming black. I have already mentioned the feijoada, 

 a stew of beans. 



I always admired the Brazilian housewife when confronted by 

 the arrival of a number of guests. When I was travelling with the 

 Secretary of State in the interior of Parahyba, I found two acquain- 

 tances in the train, whom I introduced, and who were invited to 

 accompany us. They accepted the invitation, but remarked that 

 they were expecting to meet two friends at one of the next stations. 

 These two were invited to join us, and when at last we reached the 

 house of the young manager and his wife there were eight of us, 

 and we stayed for several days. In Brazil it is a simple matter to put 

 people up for the night. One is at first surprised to see two great 

 hooks hanging from the walls in each corner of every room, and 

 even in the drawing-room. They are not ornamental, but they 

 serve a useful purpose, since by means of these hooks hammocks 

 may be slung in the corners, so that a large number of guests can 

 be accommodated. At dinner the housewife goes from chair to chair, 

 or sits in her own chair, filling the plates, which are then carried 

 round by negresses. In many houses the whole black staflf of the 

 kitchen stands in the doorway, listening contentedly to the conversa- 

 tion, and watching the diners without any feeling of envy ; in others, 

 people even come and lean over the window-sills, neither asking for 

 anything to eat nor receiving anything, but joining in the con- 

 versation. Who or what they were I was never able to make out. 



There is something free and unconstrained in the Brazilian's hospi- 

 tality which sets the guest at his ease. My friends in the city were 

 often visited by relatives while we were at table ; they settled them- 

 selves in the rocking-chairs and joined in the conversation. They were 

 free to eat with us if they chose ; that was regarded as a matter of 

 course ; there was no invitation, and no compulsion ; each did as he 

 pleased. I myself was welcome in this house at any hour ; I could 

 eat with my friends, or go into the garden, or play the piano, or 

 tilt myself to and fro in a rocking-chair and read; in short, they 

 allowed one to do as one pleased, and thereby exercised the 

 pleasantest form of hospitahty imaginable. 



I used often to visit a Brazilian lady in whose house I felt 

 thoroughly at home — her son had made the passage out with me. 

 On my first visit I saw a coloured servant stirring maize porridge 

 over a coal fire, and learned that the stirring must be continued, 

 without interruption, for an hour. I marvelled at the endurance 

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