FUNEREAL TOWNS 
I could not help remarking to this gentleman that so 
far the country I had traversed seemed merely to be rich 
in misery, that was all. 
Nothing more funereal than those little towns could 
be imagined. My men intended remaining there for the 
night, but I insisted on pushing on for a few more kilo¬ 
metres, especially as in these places my men were led to 
drink and became unmanageable. On we went for nine 
kilometres to the farm of Bellianti (elevation 2,500 feet 
above the sea level). 
On April eighth we made an early start and travelled 
through a luxuriant forest, which was daily getting more 
and more tropical as we went farther north. Do not 
forget we were, of course, south of the equator. 
Thirteen kilometres from camp we crossed the Rio 
Furmiga (or Meio Ponte) about 100 yards wide, flowing 
there in a direction from east to west at an elevation of 
2,000 feet. Most gorgeous, richly verdant vegetation 
overhung and festooned the banks of the stream. 
As we went farther toward the interior, the vegetation 
grew more beautiful, the people more repulsive. The 
majority of the people suffered from goitre in more or 
less advanced stages. Many were affected by leprosy. 
We were in a region where oranges (imported, of 
course) of most excellent, juicy quality were obtainable; 
for instance, at the farm of Felicidade (elevation 2,350 
feet). All those farms —very old — showed signs of 
having seen better days; no doubt when slavery existed 
in a legal form in Brazil and it was possible to work those 
estates profitably. With the prohibitive price of labour, 
and in fact the impossibility of obtaining labour at any 
price in the interior, farming cannot indeed flourish 
to-day. The comparatively few immigrants who landed at 
the various ports in Brazil were at once absorbed near the 
coast, and seldom left the port of landing, where labour 
was anxiously required. 
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