distant wooded hills, reflected in the
perfectly calm water of an extensive lagoon, quite refreshed us. As
the venda here was a very good one, and I have the pleasant, but
rare remembrance, of an excellent dinner, I will be grateful and
presently describe it, as the type of its class. (2/1. Venda, the
Portuguese name for an inn.) These houses are often large, and are
built of thick upright posts, with boughs interwoven, and
afterwards plastered. They seldom have floors, and never glazed
windows; but are generally pretty well roofed. Universally the
front part is open, forming a kind of verandah, in which tables and
benches are placed. The bedrooms join on each side, and here the
passenger may sleep as comfortably as he can, on a wooden platform
covered by a thin straw mat. The venda stands in a courtyard, where
the horses are fed. On first arriving, it was our custom to
unsaddle the horses and give them their Indian corn; then, with a
low bow, to ask the senhor to do us the favour to give us something
to eat. "Anything you choose, sir," was his usual answer. For the
few first times, vainly I thanked providence for having guided us
to so good a man. The conversation proceeding, the case universally
became deplorable. "Any fish can you do us the favour of giving
?"--"Oh no, sir."--"Any soup?"--"No, sir."--"Any bread?"--"Oh no,
sir."--"Any dried meat?"--"Oh no, sir." If we were lucky, by
waiting a couple of hours, we obtained fowls, rice, and farinha. It
not unfrequently happened that we were obliged to kill, with
stones, the poultry for our own supper. When, thoroughly exhausted
by fatigue and hunger, we timorously hinted that we should be glad
of our meal, the pompous, and (though true) most unsatisfactory
answer was, "It will be ready when it is ready." If we had dared to
remonstrate any further, we should have been told to proceed on our
journey, as being too impertinent. The hosts are most ungracious
and disagreeable in their manners; their houses and their persons
are often filthily dirty; the want of the accommodation of forks,
knives, and spoons is common; and I am sure no cottage or hovel in
England could be found in a state so utterly destitute of every
comfort. At Campos Novos, however, we fared sumptuously; having
rice and fowls, biscuit, wine, and spirits, for dinner; coffee in
the evening, and fish with coffee for breakfast. All this, with
good food for the horses, only cost 2 shillings 6 pence per head.
Yet