CHAPTER XXIX.
Constantia.
November 22d.—A few days at “Boa Esperenza” in the mountains of Tejuca, ten miles from Rio, proved so interesting to my friend Dr. C—— and myself, that we determined to make a more distant excursion of the kind to this place, in the midst of the Organ Mountains, fifty miles from the city. The route to it passes near San Aliexo, and on our way we made an agreeable visit of three days to our friends there.
Constantia is the estate of Mr. Heath, an Englishman, which has become a favorite resort of the citizens of the metropolis in the summer season as a watering-place, for the enjoyment of pure and invigorating air, and the luxury of fresh and wholesome diet in the country. By previous arrangement, mules and a guide were sent for us two days ago to San Aliexo by the proprietor; and taking leave of Mr. and Mrs. M——, we were off for our destination after an early breakfast this morning. The day was splendid in its coloring, and full of freshness. Our guide, a bright, intelligent little negro of twelve, was all activity and good-nature; and mounted on a mule scarcely larger than himself, with a carpet-bag slung on each side of him in the manner of a pair of saddle-bags, went on his way whistling and singing as if he knew neither sorrow nor care. Instead of leading us, however, he rode behind in the fashion of a groom; but not so much for appearance, as we soon discovered, as to give a poke with the pointed end of his whip to one or the other of the animals ridden by me and my friend, when they became disposed to lag in their gait, or to start them forward by a sharp cut across their rumps with its lash.
The first stage of eight miles northward was to Freischal, an inland venda, or store, where the turnpike begins the ascent of the “Sierra.” For that distance, the plain is very similar in its general features to the country between Piedade and San Aliexo, before described. The mountain scenery to the west, close upon the left, was, however, very fine; and was marked now, after heavy rains, by numerous watercourses and cascades, which foamed down from the heights above, in single shoots of hundreds of feet. Most travellers from Rio make Freischal a stopping-place for the first night; but the “Barriera,” or toll gate, midway up the ascent, four miles further, is a much more picturesque and attractive spot; and we pushed on to this for luncheon, without alighting at the other. The road after passing Freischal winds at first in gradual ascent along the broad bases of the mountains. It is wide, smooth, and well graded; and paved at intervals for long distances with large cubes of granite, like a Roman highway. It was enlivened by troupe after troupe of mules passing in both directions, with heavy loads of produce from the interior, and of merchandise from the capital: each company of seven animals being under charge of a troupiero, or muleteer, though frequently moving by hundreds together, and sometimes crowding the road thickly for a half mile in succession. As thus seen en masse in the distance, either in meeting or overtaking them, they present an odd spectacle. The mules with heads bending to the ground beneath their burdens, are themselves for the most part completely hidden by the bulky loads they carry. The tips of their long ears, bobbing up and down with the motion of their step; the cross ends of the clumsy wooden saddle or frame, to which the panniers or other burdens on either side are affixed—something like the buck of a woodsawyer—sticking out above their shoulders; and the dried ox-hides surmounting the whole, to protect the articles transported from the weather, flapping like wings up and down in the irregular tread of the beasts, are alone seen: and to one unacquainted with the sight, would present objects in natural history difficult to be guessed at. There is a leading mule to each troupe, whose bridle and head-stall are gayly ornamented with tufts of scarlet and blue worsted, and often with showy plumes of the same material, and also strung with bells of varied sizes and tones—the whole a matter of rivalry in the taste and vanity of the respective troupieros. The leaders are so well trained as to allow no one of their own troupe, under any circumstances, to pass ahead of them on the road; so that the muleteers have to look out only for such as lag behind or stray by the wayside. These men themselves are black, and white, and of every shade of complexion; are of all ages, and in an endless variety of costume, as to the material and condition of old shirts and old jackets, old trowsers and old drawers, old hats and various head-gear—from the well clothed, to those almost in a state puris naturalibus.
The Barriera is as wild and romantic a spot as can be well imagined. I recollect nothing on a public road surpassing it, in these respects, unless it be the site of Alhama, in the sierra of the Alpuxares. It is a narrow ravine high upon the mountain’s side, above which the fantastic pinnacles called the “Pipes of the Organ,” bristle thousands of feet. From these a mountain torrent, foaming and roaring over and around gigantic boulders of granite, comes rushing down, and divided into two streams by an islet over which the road crosses, plunges headlong into a gulf below. In the midst of this islet, to which a bridge from either side is thrown, a neat little chapel, surmounted by a cross, rises upon the sight with pleasing effect, in contrast with the savage wildness of every thing around. At a neat venda just beyond, to which we had been directed by Mr. M——, we were served with a luncheon of boiled eggs and bread and butter. Our host was a civil young Portuguese, and the neatly whitewashed walls of the room in which we ate, were ornamented with a set of colored engravings, illustrative of the fate of Inez de Castro in the hands of Peter the Cruel. For the first time in my rambles in Brazil, I here saw a book in the hands of any one—it was a copy of the “Complete Letter Writer” in Portuguese, which the keeper of the shop was reading behind the counter when we went in.
We were now more than a thousand feet above the level of the plain. For some time before reaching this point, a beautifully shaped and luxuriantly-clothed mountain in front of us, had particularly attracted our attention. It here stood directly beside us on the right. Nothing of the kind can surpass the beauty of its foliage in varied forms and tints of green—interspersed with masses of white and of yellow, of purple and of scarlet. The white in many instances is not a blossom, but the leaves of the sloth tree—cecropia peltata. The under sides of these are covered with a white down; the leaves curl upward under the hot rays of the sun, and give to the whole tree-top, amid masses of verdure, a whiteness almost as pure, and more silvery, than that of the snowball. The yellow blossoms are chiefly of the acacia; the purple and the scarlet those of climbers—bignonias and fuchsias. An American forest in October can scarcely compare in gorgeousness with these gay woods, in the seasons of their bloom.
From the Barriera the ascent becomes increasingly steep, and the road is formed by zigzag cuts in the sides of the mountains, and, at places, around their projecting shoulders. The angles at the turns are very sharp, and the road rises in terrace above terrace—at some points edging upon precipitous ravines and deep chasms, hundreds of feet in perpendicular descent. In these sections, the long lines of mules, as seen both above and below, struggling up or moving cautiously down, are particularly striking. In several places the way was wet and miry, and many a poor beast was down in the mud with his burden upon him, but lying quietly and patiently, as if accustomed to such accidents, waiting for the coming up of his troupiero to relieve him of his load, and thus enable him to rise. As we mounted higher and higher, the landscape became more and more extensive. By degrees the northern end of the Bay of Rio opened to view, followed rapidly by the islands which cluster in it; the mountain-ranges of its eastern coast; the Sugar Loaf, Raza and Round Islands in the offing; the Corcovado, Gavia and peak of Tejuca—embracing a panorama more than a hundred miles in circuit, in the midst of which the imperial city, though forty miles distant, was distinctly seen gleaming in the afternoon’s sun. Such was the scene on one side of us, while on the other the pikes of the Sierra close at hand, rose in savage nakedness three thousand feet above our heads. The world boasts many pictures in nature, in which loveliness and sublimity are combined, but I doubt whether this “Boa Vista”—“Fine View,” of the Organ Mountain does not rival any single combination of mountain, valley, and water, that man ever beheld. I can remember nothing in my own experience equal in interest to this day’s ride; unless it may be the travel through the mountains of Granada, followed by the first view of the “Vega,” with the city, the walls and towers of the Alhambra, and the snow-covered heights of the Nevada above, all gloriously lighted by the glowing hues of the setting sun.
Though uncertain of the length of time it would require to reach our destination before nightfall, we lingered long in silent admiration of the picture; and at last, found it difficult to make up our minds to turn the point of a projecting rock marking the highest elevation of the road, and which shuts it from view. From this point the descent on the north commences. It is gradual, and unmarked by any striking features, except the jagged peaks on the left. Thick mist and clouds soon enveloped these, and for a time the way became comparatively tame and uninteresting.
H—— Hall, the mountain home of Mr. H——, an English merchant of Rio, whom we had been invited to visit, is situated a short distance from the sierra. We called upon the family for a short time; but, anxious to reach Constantia, resisted their persuasions to remain over night, or at least to dinner, and hastened on our way. At the end of six miles, we turned from the public road into a bridle-path leading through thick woods, filled with the music of birds. Many of the trees overhanging us were magnificent in size—monarchs of the primeval forest, stately and venerable with the growth of centuries. One, whose branches entirely overarched the road, at an elevation of more than a hundred feet, particularly excited our admiration. Though its limbs were gnarled and distorted, and in themselves leafless, they were so fantastic in shape as well as gigantic in dimensions, and so adorned and draped with parasites and creepers, and festoons of gray moss, as to be a fit study for an artist.
At the end of three additional miles, we came suddenly upon a fine field of luxuriant Indian corn enclosed by a hedge. Into this a rustic gate led, which our guide threw open without dismounting, and uttered the announcement, apparently with as much pleasure as it gave us to hear it, “Esta Constantia!” “This is Constantia!” We were at the entrance of a little valley, two miles in length by a half mile in width, encircled by high hills, in the midst of which the buildings of the establishment of Mr. Heath are clustered. These consist of a principal house of two stories, plastered and whitewashed, and having a steep shingled roof; four cottages of one story in the same style, in front of this; and various out-buildings and offices in the rear, with quarters for the negroes—the whole having the general appearance of a Swiss or German hamlet. The approach is by a well-made drive, half a mile in length. Trees of natural growth have been left here and there near this and in the adjoining grounds; giving to the whole somewhat the aspect of a park.
Our host met us at the gate of an inner enclosure which protects the gardens and shrubbery. He is six feet and more in height, of a portliness in full proportion, and frank, open-hearted and cordial in manner. He had been expecting us for two days, and dinner was now a third time waiting our arrival. We had heard of his facetiousness, and that his anecdotes were irresistible; and had determined before meeting him, to maintain a becoming dignity. Before the dinner was half through, however, we found all our precaution vain; and under the rehearsal of some of his personal adventures in Brazil, were obliged to give way to fits of laughter, which made the tears run down our cheeks.
November 24th.—The estate of Constantia is two miles square. Its first owner was a Swiss, who gave it the name it bears, with the intention of cultivating the grape on its hill-sides, in the hope of producing a wine that should rival that of Constantia, at the Cape of Good Hope. But his expectations in regard to the production of wine were disappointed; and an experiment with coffee succeeded no better. The soil is too cold and too poor to produce the best qualities of either; and Mr. Heath purchased the whole property for a small sum. The house and adjoining cottages are situated in the midst of flower-gardens, which indicate by their growth any thing but poverty of soil; and are fragrant with the perfume of the tuberose and heliotrope, cape jessamine and white lily, and beautiful in moss-roses and camellias, the most splendid carnations, beds of violets and mignonette, and an endless variety of choice flowers. The stems of the tuberose exhibit eighteen inches of closely-clustered blossoms, and while the white lily at home seldom produces, I believe, more than six or seven flowers on one stock, I have here counted thirteen. The vegetable gardens and fruit-yards present a like display of exuberant growth, in peas, beans, potatoes, artichokes, cabbages, beets, cauliflowers, strawberries, raspberries, limes, lemons, peaches, pears, apples, quinces and grapes. These in constant succession bring a rich return to the proprietor from the market at Rio, to which, distant as it is, troupes of mules carry cargoes as far as Piedade, twice every week.
The work of the estate is performed by slaves, of whom, including women and children, there are thirty-three on the premises. They are well-fed, well-clothed, and well-treated, and seem to be contented and happy. Their master is a humane and kind man, and intends to give to all their freedom: in earnest of which he has already manumitted several, who still continue with him, and to whom he pays regular wages. The children come round him at his call with laughter and gambols, and scramble playfully for the biscuit and cakes and the other niceties which he carries with him from the dining-hall, for the purpose of distributing among them. The gardens are under the care of females exclusively: the superintendent, of the same sex, being thoroughly skilled in the business. Every thing in that department is under her sole direction, from the turning over of the earth for planting, to the gathering of the produce, and the arrangement of it in panniers for the market.
All hands are turned out for work at daybreak; are mustered by name, and receive orders from their master at a window of his room. A custom is observed here, and I am told in all well-regulated families in Brazil, which, were it any thing more than an unmeaning form, would be interesting. It is the asking of a blessing from the master every morning and every evening at the close of the day’s work by all the slaves, of both sexes and of every age. The full form of words is the following: “I beseech your blessing, or grant me a blessing, in the name of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ!” To which the master replies, “Jesus Christ bless you for ever!” But it is the usage to epitomize these expressions by the interchange of the shortest possible abbreviations of them, and in words rather startling at first to the ear uninformed of the designed object; the slaves as they present themselves merely exclaiming, in all manner of intonations of voice and in every mood of humor—“Jesus Christ!” While the master, be he talking or laughing, eating or drinking, or in whatever way employed, without any interruption and seemingly without any regard to the import of the salutation as abruptly replies, “Siempre!” “Forever!” The effect last night was quite ludicrous, as fifteen or twenty men and women came in from labor in the fields—probably weary and hungry and impatient of any delay—and thrust their heads rapidly, one after another, into the windows and doors of the verandah as we were at the tea-table, with the above exclamation of two words only; followed instantly by the single one from the master, much in the manner of a feu de joie.
No bell, nor similar means of summoning the outdoor servants is used; but the clear, trumpet-like voice of the master is often heard far and wide, sending forth with a distinctness not to be mistaken, the names of those needed. While listening to these stentorian calls, I have been struck with the euphony and romance of many of the names, especially those of the females—Theresa and Rosa, Justina and Juliana, Januaria and Theodora: a list fit for the court calendar.
Within a few hundred yards of the houses on either side, sharp hills rise to the height of several hundred feet, partially covered on their sides and crowned on their tops with intermingled woods and cliffs. That on the south is marked in its whole length by the broad channel of a watercourse; this, at times, becomes a foaming cascade, compared with which, the artificial shoot down the hill at Chatsworth, would appear but the plaything of a child. At present the quantity of water, though flowing with great swiftness, is small, but furnishes an abundant supply for plunging-baths at the foot of the hill, and for keeping a corn-mill near by, in operation day and night. This mill is a curiosity in one respect—it is self-tending; so far, at least, as to cease working when the hopper becomes empty. The contrivance is very simple, and consists of a fixture at the bottom of the hopper, which, acting through a spring, shuts off the water from the wheel when the weight of the grain is removed.
The day after our arrival was one of rain, and we were kept for the most part indoors. This, however, we scarcely regretted. Indeed, we were more than content with confinement in the midst of such verdure and bloom; and were satisfied for the time, in the freshness, quietude, and rural repose of this secluded spot, with the companionship, through the windows and from the verandah, of the mules and cattle, the sheep and pigs, geese, ducks and chickens, turkeys and guinea-fowl, with which the pasture-grounds and enclosures are filled; and not less with that of our intelligent host in his hours of leisure, in listening to his anecdotes and reminiscences of life in Brazil. He has pre-eminently the talent of making one forget that he is a stranger in his house and a boarder at his table. You feel yourself rather to be the welcome guest of friendship under the hospitable roof of the lord of the manor, on whom you are conferring a personal favor by your visit. His sporting stories are very amusing and somewhat marvellous. There is no end to the rehearsal of the adventures of twenty years, in hunts after the leopard and ounce, the tapir and deer, the peccary and other game of the forests. He has, too, often been the guide and companion in this region, of the most distinguished travellers who have visited Brazil in that period. He ascended the loftiest peaks of the Organ Mountains with Dr. Gardiner; and gives details of privations and hair-breadth escapes in wildernesses before untracked by man, and upon cliffs and precipices previously unscaled, not found in the published records of the accomplished naturalist.
Yesterday and to-day the weather has been clear and fine, and delightfully bracing and elastic: the mercury varying from 65° to 70° Fahrenheit. The elevation of Constantia above the bay of Rio, is about 3000 feet. The highest point of the intervening range of mountains is 6000. The site of the houses does not command a view of the Organ chain: but, from the hill-side on the north, it is distinctly seen. We walked a short distance up this last evening, just before nightfall, and found the entire range magnificently clothed in the gorgeous colorings of the setting sun. Though at the distance of fifteen miles in an air-line, the sight was sublime. The serrated part presents aspects on this side altogether new; and more wild and fantastic, if possible, than those on the other. I secured the outline of a sketch, which, when seen by you, may lead you to suppose me sporting with your credulity.
We have rambled with delight at different times through the little valley in the rear of the establishment. It is two miles in length; is prettily watered by a winding stream and diversified by glade and dell—pastoral in its herds of cattle and flocks of sheep, and vocal with the murmuring of water and the music of birds. I do not include in the melody of these, however, the noisy chatter of flocks of parroquets; though the beauty of their gay plumage, added to the attractiveness of our walks, as, fluttering through the air, it flashed upon the eye in the bright rays of the sun, like masses of emeralds and gold. We made the attempt to ascend some of the hills for more commanding points of view; but found, even those which were without wood, and which appeared at a distance to be almost as smooth as the turf of a lawn, to be altogether impracticable, from the thickness and rankness of the growth of ferns with which they are covered. On a near approach, these were seen to rise far above our heads in impenetrable thickets. We undertook to advance a short distance among them; but, though Dr. C—— is of no contemptible height—six feet four inches—and not without proportionate strength of muscle, we were very willing, at the end of a few minutes, to give over the effort. Progress can be made through them only with a sharp bramble-scythe, or a sickle in hand. They are so thick-set, and so even in height, that the negroes, Mr. Heath tells us, in returning from labor on the hills, often make short work of the descent by projecting themselves headforemost for long distances, in steep places, over the compact surface of their tops.
Petropolis.
November 30th.—We bade adieu to Constantia on the morning of the 26th inst. It was not yet sunrise when we took leave of our host for the ride of forty miles through the mountains to this place. We set off in the following order; first, a sumpter-mule, with our luggage and provender for the day, led by a negro on foot; then a courier, the counterpart in age, size, and blackness, of our guide from San Aliexo, but a perfect dandy in comparison, in his costume—being dressed in a trimly-fitted jacket and trowsers of new nankeen, a highly polished castor hat with velvet band and broad rim, beneath which was worn, in Brazilian style, a scarlet silk handkerchief, floating loosely down the shoulders behind; leggings of untanned leather, so wide at the top as to serve for the reception and safe carriage of all kinds of small packages and parcels, but terminating in bare feet well-spurred; the Padre, as I am styled, and his mule came next; while the fleet-surgeon, last in position, but first in height and dignity, brought up the rear. I was quite impressed with the appearance of respectability in our departure, by the long line thus formed, till, at the outer gate, it was suddenly shorn of its “proportions” by the loss of our footman, who, tying the halter of the beast he was leading, firmly into the long hair of the tail of our little courier’s mule, gave us his benediction and returned to the house.
The morning was beautiful, the air fresh as the breath of June, and the light, fleecy clouds floating in the sky, tinted with bright hues. Our way for some miles was a grass-edged and dewy path through the woods. From these, unnumbered birds poured forth their matin songs as if
“every sense and every pulse were joy.”
There is an untiring charm in the woodland scenery here; the growth is often so majestic and widespreading, and the foliage so varied in form and coloring. We were gratified by the near view, in two or three instances, of a fine, lofty, forest-tree, which had at other times attracted our attention at a distance, by the flowers of mingled pink and lilac with which it was thickly studded. These grow singly, and not in clusters; but the general effect, from the intermingling of strongly contrasted shades of one color in the same flowers, is that of the apple blossom. The lowest branches, however, were too lofty to allow a satisfactory examination of them. Among the most graceful of the growth, which in some places fringed and overarched our way, was the bamboo, shooting up in thick clusters to the height of fifty, and even a hundred feet. The tree-ferns, too, were conspicuous, their umbrella-like tops giving them in the distance the appearance of palm trees in miniature. Parasites and creepers entangled the whole woods, while the former, mounting to the tops of the loftiest branches, descended low again towards the ground in gracefully sweeping pendants. Surrounded by such imagery and breathing such air, with the golden sun flickering through the tree-tops upon our path, or gleaming brightly over a glade on its side, I felt as buoyant in spirit as when a boy I roved over the pine-covered hills of Otsego.
At one place the road merely skirted the woods and commanded a broad expanse of cleared land in a valley. A striking feature here, was the number of stately old trees which still studded the landscape. They were leafless and lifeless, however, and so blanched from top to bottom as to seem whitewashed. Masses of gray moss hanging in long pendants from the skeleton limbs, gave to them, in contrast with the vigor of life by which they were surrounded, a melancholy and funereal aspect. Just as we were emerging from a thick wood on a side hill which overlooked the trees below, my friend said to me, “All that is needed to make our ride perfect in its kind, is a sight of some of the wild animals of the country.” I replied, “Yes, any thing but a tiger or a leopard.” I had scarcely finished the sentence, when a succession of fierce and angry shrieks and screams burst forth beneath us; and looking in the direction, we saw a whole tree-top filled with black, long-tailed monkeys—they were in terrible commotion—a regular family quarrel. Every branch of the tree swayed to and fro, as they leaped about and swung themselves by their tails from the end of one limb to that of another. The tread of our mules or the sound of our voices, however, suddenly put an end to their squabble, and in an instant, the whole troop in affright disappeared in the thick wood.
At the end of a few miles we came to the turnpike by which we had mounted the Sierra, and followed it northward a short distance. It was crowded with troupes of mules, just setting off from the ranchos at which they had passed the night. The muleteers at one point, were engaged in replacing the burdens on their animals. Their occupation is far from being a sinecure. Besides making the journey of hundreds of leagues on foot, they have daily, and sometimes repeatedly each day, to load and unload their beasts, and to readjust the many straps by which the freight they transport is kept well-balanced, and secure from damage. The ordinary load of a mule is from six to eight “arobas” of thirty-two pounds each, and the usual distance travelled in a day, from twelve to sixteen miles.
The middle section of the journey was marked by a succession of pyramidal hills of bare granite, a thousand and more feet in height, rising from the bosoms of the valleys which encircle their bases like so many gigantic sugar-loaves. They appeared to be utterly inaccessible, and presented cliffs on some of their sides hundreds of feet in almost perpendicular descent. About noon, surrounded by parroquets in flocks and other birds of gay plumage, we gained the highest point of land on the route. It commanded sublime views of the mountains, both before and behind us; and, among other objects, one of special interest to us personally in the cabin of a free negro a short distance ahead, to which we had been directed as a good place to refresh our animals and to take our luncheon. We had accomplished fifteen miles of the journey. The next fifteen were less interesting in every respect; the general surface of the country was bare, and the mountains sterile and naked. The glare of the sun was oppressive, and by the time we had finished that additional distance, we began to be fagged and weary. And this, you will ask, while still surrounded by much that was strikingly novel and magnificent? I will refer you for our vindication in the case, to any one who has been ten hours in succession on muleback, riding up hill and down dale, over a scarcely practicable mountain road. A mule is a very nice animal for the ride of an hour over smooth ground, and one that is full-blooded and well-broken, very passable perhaps for the ride of a day; but to be mounted from sunrise to sunset on such beasts as we had, and to travel for a whole day over such a road, are enough to make anyone who has suffered the experience groan afresh at the remembrance of it. I was not aware before that there was such entire antagonism in the peculiar, short, broken, and half-finished motions of the brute; causing one to feel at the end of a day’s journey very much as it might be supposed he would, if subjected in rapid succession for the same length of time, to a constant simultaneous jerk of the shoulders, twist of the hips, rap on the ankles, and thump in the back; while the head has been kept incessantly bobbing up and down in involuntary motion, like that of a Chinese image when once set going. I know nothing like it in travel for weariness, at least to the unpractised rider.
Late in the afternoon, we came upon the other great highway from the metropolis to the mines in the far interior, and following it, found the last ten miles, through the valley and beside the rippling waters of the Rio Piabanha, to be beautiful, not only in natural scenery, but from cultivation and long settlement. I must confess, however, that it required an after ride over it fully to persuade us of this. At the time, we were too much done over for high admiration of any thing; and were chiefly occupied in straining our vision for some indications of being near our place of rest. At length, the little guide, a short distance in advance of us, reining in his mule at the top of an ascent in a gorge of the hills, exclaimed to us in Portuguese—“Come see Petropolis!” We doubted whether it might not be still miles distant; but pushing on, were well pleased to catch sight of the town, pictured in beauty before us, not a quarter of a mile off, at the bottom of the hill. We were glad to see our little courier ride to the door of the first house at the entrance of the place, as the hotel which Mr. Heath had recommended to us as the best: had it been the worst, scarcely any inducement could have led us a hundred yards further in search of any other. We were barely able to dismount.
I never saw a place of which the common phrase “nestled among hills,” is so descriptive as Petropolis—in fact, it is doubly “nestled.” First, by a half-dozen beautiful hills which rise abruptly around it to the height of two or three hundred feet, and then again by mountains which tower to an elevation of as many thousands. The central part of the town lies in a little triangular basin, a half-mile in extent each way. From this, glens filled with cottages and pleasant residences, diverge in various directions. Each has a mountain-stream running through it, two of the principal of which, flowing from opposite directions, meet in the centre of the place. The surrounding country is the private property of the Emperor, by the purchase of his father Pedro I. It was the design of this sovereign to colonize it at the time with Germans, but his abdication prevented the accomplishment of this. His son carried it out, by offering, ten years ago, such inducements to immigrants in gratuities of land, that the colony now numbers six thousand inhabitants, chiefly Germans. The Emperor early built a cottage for himself in the centre of the village, with the view of making an occasional visit to the place. The appearance of the yellow fever in Rio as an epidemic, has since led to the construction of a palace on the same site, which is to be a regular summer residence of the Imperial family; and Petropolis, from the sickliness of the city and the example of the Emperor, has become the favorite resort, as a watering-place, of the rich and fashionable.
Though it is not yet the “season,” there are many visitors here at present, among whom we were happy to meet our friend Lieut. F—— of the Congress, and a party of his English friends, residents of Rio. The whole place has the air of an enterprising, thrifty, and prosperous new settlement at home, attributable to the fact that instead of enervated and indolent Portuguese and Brazilians, the inhabitants are industrious, managing, and hard-working Germans. The walks and drives in the vicinity, for miles in every direction, are varied and beautiful. It is only a mile and a half from the “Alto do Sierra,” the point at which the great highway from Rio to the mining districts gains the height of the chain; the view from which is thought by many to outrival that of “Boa Vista” in the Organ Mountains: we have enjoyed it under great advantages of light and shade, and think if there is a difference, it is that the latter has more wildness and sublimity of foreground, and the former more softness and beauty in the general panorama. The road by which the passage of the mountain is here made, is, in its grading and construction, an exceedingly fine work, equal to most of those found in the similar passes of Europe. The first railroad projected in Brazil is now in construction, from the bay of Rio to the foot of the mountains. Its line, clearly traceable from the “Alto,” is a new and most hopeful feature in a landscape of this Empire. Among the most interesting of our fellow-guests at the hotel here, are the Chief Engineer, an Englishman—Mr. Bragge—and his family, and his assistant, Col. Golfredo, a Neapolitan exile.
The German population is about equally divided as to religious creeds; about three thousand being Protestants and three thousand Romanists. On the Sabbath Dr. C—— and I attended worship in the Protestant chapel. Places for Protestant worship are prohibited the external architecture of a church building; and but for the assemblage of people at the door, we should not have been able to distinguish the chapel from the row of houses under one roof, among which it stands. The interior is simple and rude, and sufficient only to accommodate three or four hundred worshippers. About that number were present. They are just now without a pastor, and the schoolmaster of the town officiated. The order of the services, including the reading of a sermon, was that of the Lutheran Church. The worshippers seemed serious and devout; and though the whole was to us in an unknown tongue, we endeavored—not in vain we trust—to make “melody in our hearts,” with their singing, and with their prayers to pray “with the spirit and with the understanding.”