NOTES ON BRAZIL. 



389 



in the clays of the hills, of that class which have a tendency to a globular 

 shape in their formation. 



Leaving the banks of the Piabuna, and ascending a steep road to 

 the height of seventeen hundred feet above the level of Pegado, we 

 crossed the summit of the Serro, and saw, almost as much below us, a 

 broad and fertile valley, which opens far to the Westward. On this 

 summit we are evidently at the head of new streams, which, collecting 

 from the East round by the South and AVest, join together near a large 

 farm named Secretario, and flow toward the Piabuna. Nevertheless I 

 do not conceive that to be the only, nor even the principal drain of the 

 vale, for, beyond another small elevation, is a still larger body of Avater, 

 flowing rapidly from the Westward over a rocky bed, and making its 

 escape, on our right, through a scene which is remarkably broken ; so 

 justly may this part of our route be said to pass through a land of brooks. 



While travelling by the side of one continued stream, in such a 

 country as this, the prospects must unavoidably be confined ; but as this 

 day we crossed the dells, and passed over the ridges which separate the 

 streams, we have been able to look more about us. From an elevation 

 of two thousand feet above the water which has just been mentioned, 

 we look back upon the great rugged declivity which the Piabuna 

 descends, can distinctly trace the line which it marks, and the basin 

 which it empties, from the ridge of the Serro dos Organos almost down 

 to the Parahyba. The breadth of the valley is, generally speaking, 

 about fifteen miles, although peaks, grey and naked, rise to the East as 

 far off as twenty-five or thirty. The centre of the Serro, which we 

 passed several days ago, is directly South ; the cones about Padre Correios 

 stand South-South-East from us, and the limit of the basin, toward the 

 West, is less distinctly marked than had been expected. On turning our- 

 selves round, we look down upon a scene less grand but more lovely, 

 A small vale, resembling one of the finest in Devonshire, dressed in 

 Brazilian ornaments, presents itself, and rivets attention. Pampulia, 

 with its white houses, brown roads, round hills, lofty and variegated 

 forests, affords, to the lover of landscape, one of the richest treats he 



