so A YEAR IN BRAZIL. 



Brumado, which I rode back to Paraopeba ; he was then ill, 

 suffering from a kind of influenza. While I was at Rio, my 

 camarade dosed him with about twenty different remedies ; 

 but, or perhaps consequently, he became so bad that it was 

 impossible to ride him. I was, therefore, compelled to 

 hire a mule. She has, I fear, been infected by my horse, 

 and, after the same preliminary symptoms, has now "come 

 out all over spots, and I think it's something catching '' 

 (Sloper). Her hair is all coming off in patches, her face 

 being already quite bald. She is an awful sight. I am 

 ashamed to ride her. 



Now to describe our journey so far. Leaving soon 

 after my mule was caught, we rode over those thirty miles 

 of country I am becoming familiar with, and lodged with 

 my good friend Senhor Baptista at Brumado, who, semper 

 eadem, received us d bras ouverts. Next morning, leaving 

 there after breakfast, we began the ascent to the watershed 

 of the two rivers, Paraopeba and Para, both of which, flow- 

 ing nearly parallel, are tributaries of the Sao Francisco.* 



On the roadside we came across a small dead tree, on 

 whose branches were perched fifteen orioles {Cassicus 

 persicus, Linn.), and the concert produced by their all sing- 

 ing together was beautiful. Like most other birds here, 

 they were very tame, and allowed us to approach quite 

 close before they flew off. They are about the size of a 

 blackbird, with gorgeous yellow and black plumage. At 

 2 p.m. we reached a hill capped by a great bare white 

 rock, called Pedra Branca, from whence we had a splendid 

 panorama of the hills and mountains, the Serra do 

 Cortume (half-way between Paraopeba and Brumado) 

 being some twenty-five miles to the south-east. The general 

 character of all the hills close to the Pedra Branca is bare, 

 * Our ride can be traced on the map. 



