When the emancipation of the Indian (not the negro) slaves was decreed in 1758, the energies of this indefatigable people, checked in one direction, were turned towards exploration for a period, and it was not until the beginning of the nineteenth century, when their country was opened up to the trade of the world, that they found fresh and congenial outlets for their enterprise.
During the whole of the last century immigration has flowed steadily into the country, and its abundant agricultural wealth has been developed with a steady persistence. The virile peoples from the Old World, who have flocked into the State, have been rapidly absorbed by the Paulistas, and a conglomerate race, made up of many elements, now populates the country. The energy of the Paulista resembles that of the American of the United States, and the activity in the city of São Paulo is remarked by all who have compared it with Rio and other towns in different parts of Brazil.
The city of São Paulo is full of pleasant surprises. Its three principal streets, the Rua São Bento, Rua Quinze de Novembro, and Rua Direita, form a triangle in the busiest part of the city, and are narrow, crowded thoroughfares, the electric cars taking up the principal part of the roadways, which in business hours become so congested that progress is very slow, both for pedestrians and vehicular traffic.
Many of the shops are fine, and contain a goodly display of wares, but prices are high. Their harvest season is somewhat restricted, owing to the large number of feast days or holidays throughout the year, in addition to the Sundays, upon which
GOVERNMENT BUILDINGS IN THE LARGO DE PALACIO.
the bulk of the shops are closed. In the case of tobacconists Sunday closing is rigorously enforced, and the multitude of smokers have to lay in their supplies for the week-end. It is on a Sunday or a festa day that the crowds in the street are most interesting, for then the folk come out in their gala clothes on pleasure and amusement bent. There is no uniformity whatever in the costumes worn by either sex. Bare-headed women wearing fur boas, men wearing overcoats, others clad in white drill suits and straw hats or black felt head-gear, parade the streets in an ever changing stream. The car conductors, in grey uniforms with gold facings, are kept busy attending to the human freights, whilst policemen, in black with red facings, direct the traffic with small, white batons, as in Paris. Lottery ticket vendors yell their wares in competition with purveyors of sweets, cakes, and pastries, whose yellow delicacies tempt the flies and children who swarm around, the former brushed off with large feather brushes, the latter encouraged by glowing entreaties. Everything looks new here, even traditions and customs from the Old World seeming to undergo a change. In the crowds at the street corners the men are mostly garbed in black, but the women affect all the colours of the rainbow.
White dresses predominate, but blues, magentas, yellows, pinks, greens, and faded vermilions are freely admixed, varied with yellow and red kerchiefs and purple shawls. Here a group of four or five mules ridden by bare-footed countrymen in blue trousers, there shaggy yellow ponies, sun-faded and mud-stained, brush through and rub against the holiday-making crowd. Yonder, on the steps leading up to the gardens, sits an Italian, munching his midday meal of bread, cheese, and olives. In these gardens, in front of the President’s palace, are many curious and beautiful trees, amongst them two stately oaks with the freshest of green leaves, soft and delicate, as in early summer.
The palms and ferns, cut and cropped into fantastic shapes, mingle with the cactus, which needs no such attention. In the shady bowers are welcome resting-places, where the wearied sit in the patches of sunlight that splash warm upon them through the branches, reading the papers in French, Italian, and Portuguese, smoking eternally, conversing frequently, and moving but seldom. Flower-sellers move here and there, offering tempting bunches of the loveliest pansies, violets, and roses, and add colour to the scene. The singing of birds, the tinkling of the car bells, the hum of voices, the strident cries of the hawkers, all mingle on the sunny Sunday morn, and a happier-looking city and people it would be difficult to imagine.