A great part of our last day at Juiz de Fora was spent at the hospitable house of Mr. Halfeld, the German engineer who has gained an honorable distinction by his explorations in the interior. His work on the Rio San Francisco was well known to Mr. Agassiz, so that they found themselves at once on familiar ground, and Mr. Halfeld was able to give him a great deal of valuable information respecting the prospects of the present expedition, especially that department of it which will go to the Amazons by way of the Rio San Francisco and the Tocantins. He has also an interesting collection of objects of natural history, and cordially offered his assistance in obtaining the fishes of the neighborhood. As for the collections, they had been going on famously during our whole visit. We had hardly been in Juiz de Fora twenty-four hours before a dozen collectors were actively at work. All the urchins of the neighborhood and many of the Germans employed on the road lent a helping hand. Even the ladies did their full share, and Mr. Agassiz was indebted to our friend Mrs. K—— for some of the most interesting specimens from this locality. No doubt such as were left of the “bixos” of Juiz de Fora must have congratulated themselves on our departure the following morning.
We enjoyed our return over the same road scarcely less than our first introduction to it; but the latter part of the day was full of an interest which touched us more nearly. At Posse, where we had breakfasted on our way up, Mr. Taylor welcomed us with a Portuguese paper containing a bulletin announcing the great victories of the North. Petersburg and Richmond taken,—Lee in full retreat,—the war virtually over. This was the substance of the news received with delight and acclamation, not without tears of gratitude also, and we went on our way rejoicing. As we drove up to the Hotel Inglez after dark that evening, hoping to get a glimpse of an American paper, or at least to have the good news confirmed through the American Minister, General Webb, whose residence is at Petropolis, we were greeted by the announcement of the assassination of Lincoln and Seward, both believed at this time to be dead. At first it seemed absolutely incredible, and the more sanguine among us persisted in regarding it as a gigantic street rumor, invented perhaps by Secession sympathizers, till on our return to town the next morning our worst fears were confirmed by the French steamer just arrived. The days seemed very long till the next mail, which reassured us somewhat, as it brought the news of Mr. Seward’s probable recovery and strengthened our faith in the stability of the national character. All the accounts, public and private, assure us that, though there is mourning throughout the land, there is no disturbance of the general regularity and order.
CHAPTER III.
LIFE IN RIO CONTINUED.—FAZENDA LIFE.
Botafogo.—Insane Hospital.—Tijuca.—Erratic Drift.—Vegetation.—Birthday Dinner.—Arrangements for Parties to the Interior.—Public Lectures in Rio.—Procession of St. George.—Leave Rio on Excursion to the Fortaleza de Santa Anna.—Localities for Erratic Drift between Rio and Petropolis.—Departure from Juiz de Fora.—Arrival at the Fazenda.—Ride in the Forest.—Eve of San Joaō.—Cupim Nests.—Excursion to the Upper Fazenda.—Grand Hunt.—Picnic.—Coffee Plantation.—Return to Rio.—Mimic Snow-Fields.—Coffee Insect spinning its Nest.—Visit to the Fazenda of Commendador Breves.—Botanizing Excursion to Tijuca.—Preparations for leaving Rio.—Major Coutinho.—Collegio Dom Pedro Segundo.
Botafogo Bay.
May 22d.—This afternoon Dr. and Mrs. C—— and myself went out for a country ramble, somewhat at a venture, it is true, but feeling sure that in the beautiful scenery about Rio we could hardly go amiss. We took one of the many ferry-boats in the neighborhood of our hotel, and presently found ourselves on the way to Botafogo. Almost all the environs of the city are built along beaches; there is the beach or Praia of Botafogo, the Praia of San Christovāo, the Praia of San Domingo, and half a dozen others, all of which mean some suburb of the town situated on the shore with a beach in front of it. As it is rather the fashion for the better class of people to live out of town, the houses and gardens in these suburbs are often delightful. We enjoyed the sail exceedingly. For a part of the way the boat keeps close under the mountains, and no description can give an idea of their picturesque outlines, or of the wonderful coloring which softens all their asperities and mellows the whole landscape. We landed at a jetty thrown out from a romantic-looking road, and as we found no carriage on the wharf, and ascertained that the boat did not return for two hours, we wandered up this road to see where chance would lead us. The afternoon would have been full of interest had it ended in the walk along the crescent-shaped bay, with the water rippling on the sands, and the mountains opposite all purple in the afternoon sunshine. The road brought us, however, to a magnificent hospital for the insane, the hospital of Dom Pedro Segundo, which we had seen and admired from the deck of the steamer on the day of our arrival. We entered the grounds, and as the great door of the building was open and the official on guard looked by no means forbidding, we ascended the steps and went in. It is difficult to imagine an edifice more appropriate for the purpose to which it is devoted. It is true we saw only the public rooms and corridors, as a permit was required to enter the wards; but a plan hanging near the entrance gave us an idea of the arrangement of the building, and its general aspect bore testimony to the cleanliness, cheerfulness, and order of the establishment. Some of the public rooms were very handsome,—especially one, at the end of which stands a statue of the boy Emperor, taken, no doubt, at the time of his coronation. In the man of forty you still recognize the frank, intelligent, manly face of the lad on whom such great responsibility was thrown at the age of fifteen. As we went up the spacious staircase, the sound of music brought us to the door of the chapel, where the evening service was going on. Patients and nurses were kneeling together; a choir of female voices was singing sweetly a calm, peaceful kind of music; that somewhat monotonous chanting, so passionless in its regular movement, which one hears in the Catholic Church; the candles were burning before the altar, but the great window just outside the door was open to the setting sun, and, as I stood in the balcony looking out on the mountains and listening to the music, I thought that a mind which had gone astray might find its way back again in such scenes and under such influences. Certainly, if nature has any healing power, it must be felt here. We lingered and listened as long as we dared, and stole away as the services were closing, just in time to take the evening boat.
Mina Negress.
May 25th.—The fish-market is, in all seaport towns, a favorite haunt with Mr. Agassiz, and here it has an especial interest for him on account of the variety and beauty of the fishes brought in every morning. I sometimes accompany him in these rambles for the pleasure of seeing the fresh loads of oranges, flowers, and vegetables, and of watching the picturesque negro groups selling their wares or sitting about in knots to gossip. We have already learned that the fine-looking athletic negroes of a nobler type, at least physically, than any we see in the States, are the so-called Mina negroes, from the province of Mina, in Western Africa. They are a very powerful-looking race, and the women especially are finely made and have quite a dignified presence. I am never tired of watching them in the street and market, where they are to be seen in numbers, being more commonly employed as venders of fruit and vegetables than as house-servants. It is said that a certain wild and independent element in their character makes them unfit for domestic service. The women always wear a high muslin turban, and a long, bright-colored shawl, either crossed on the breast and thrown carelessly over the shoulder, or, if the day be chilly, drawn closely around them, their arms hidden in its folds. The amount of expression they throw into the use of this shawl is quite amazing. I watched a tall, superbly made woman in the street to-day who was in a great passion. Gesticulating violently, she flung her shawl wide, throwing out both arms, then, drawing it suddenly in, folded it about her, and stretched herself to her full height; presently opening it once more, she shook her fist in the face of her opponent, and then, casting one end of her long drapery over her shoulder, stalked away with the air of a tragedy queen. It serves as a cradle also, for, tying it loosely round their hips, they slip the baby into the folds behind, and there it hangs, rocked to sleep by the mother’s movement as she walks on with her long, swinging tread. The Mina negress is almost invariably remarkable for her beautiful hand and arm. She seems to be conscious of this, and usually wears close-fitting bracelets at the wrist, made of some bright-colored beads, which set off the form of the hand and are exceedingly becoming on her dark, shining skin. These negroes are Mohammedans, and are said to remain faithful to their prophet, though surrounded by the observances of the Catholic Church. They do not seem to me so affable and responsive as the Congo negroes, but are, on the contrary, rather haughty. One morning I came upon a cluster of them in the market breakfasting after their work was done, and I stopped to talk with them, asking what they had for breakfast, and trying various subjects on which to open an acquaintance. But they looked at me coldly and suspiciously, barely answering my questions, and were evidently relieved when I walked away.