THE PICTURESQUE FAZENDA DA LAPA AT CAMPINAS.
At Campinas is located the Instituto Agronomico, which is an experimental institution of the state government. Its purpose is to study the various enemies which attack vegetation and discover means, if possible, for their eradication. It also experiments with the raising of various kinds of grain, and the cultivation of fruits. The work laid out for this institution is a good one, for what is needed in Brazil is a practical application of good agricultural principles, a study of the soil and a knowledge of what it is adapted for. The equipment of this institution is good, and the buildings are large and commodious. But a great deal of money is spent for what might be termed the show features, where it could better be expended for practical purposes. There is a great field, I believe, for the cultivation of fruits. In a country such as this, where fruit trees grow almost without cultivation, a very large percentage of the fruits are imported. For instance, at the hotels the fruit served would be American or Portuguese apples, and Malaga grapes. And yet, right here at this institute, I saw grapes finer, in my opinion, than those brought over thousands of miles of water. With proper cultivation nearly every one of the common fruits of the tropical and temperate zone could be raised here, and of fine quality. Instead, thousands of dollars are sent out of the country for the fruits which might be better raised at home.
From Campinas the journey was continued over the Mogyana Railroad, a narrow gauge track. The line passes through coffee plantations for some distance, and then into uncultivated lands, where the only industry is the raising of stock. A part of the land traversed is abandoned agricultural land, and part of it has never been under cultivation. The cattle seen on these farms are only of fair quality, for not much care has been taken in breeding the animals up to a high standard. With many bends and graceful curves the road follows a stream, cuts across valleys and around hills. There is no part of the ten hours’ journey when hills of fair size are not a prominent feature in the foreground. A number of towns are passed, and a few very narrow gauged railroads run off to plantations, which cannot be seen from the railroads. The soil is almost the colour of dried blood, and this red dirt filters in through the windows in great clouds. This blood-red dust colours everything it touches with a reddish hue. The clothing is soon tinted with it, and even the children’s complexions show the effects, for Brazilian children, like their cousins all over the world, like to play in the dirt. But this red soil is good coffee land, and coffee plantations are seen crowning the summits of the hills. At last the train reaches Riberão Preto, near which are situated the best and largest coffee plantations, not only in Brazil but in the world. The town is comparatively modern, for this district is newer than Campinas, and it has been growing in importance year after year in the past two decades. It is now a city of ten or fifteen thousand people.
“MONTE ALEGRE” FAZENDA.
At the station were waiting carriages from the hospitable “Monte Alegre” fazenda, the residence of Colonel Francisco Schmidt, who is known as the “coffee king.” This man came to Brazil as a poor emigrant boy a half century ago, and hoed coffee trees for other fazenderos, and on lands which he now owns. Seated on the broad veranda of “Monte Alegre,” one could see avenues of coffee trees stretching out over the hills, and good coffee lands are always hilly, until they were lost in the horizon. Although it was not possible to see, yet one knew that they continued in the same unbroken rows down the other slope. I rode in a carriage with the Colonel for hours through a continuous succession of coffee trees, during the three days that I was his guest, with no end in sight. When you consider that there are from two hundred and fifty to three hundred trees to each acre, you will readily realize that the number of trees soon runs into the thousands, then into the tens of thousands, and finally into the millions. So do not be surprised when I tell you that this coffee king has already growing upon his various fazendas the almost incredible number of eight million coffee trees. I did not see all of them, but I saw so many that numbers lost their meaning, and I could only think in millions.
Twenty-three million pounds of coffee were marketed by this man in one year. This is enough to give every man, woman and child in the United States and Canada a cup of coffee for breakfast for one week. He has twenty railroad stations on his thirty-two different fazendas. He has twenty machines run by water or steam power for cleaning coffee, and acres upon acres of drying yards, all of which are scenes of activity in the harvesting season. Nearly a thousand horses are employed in the work of the plantations, besides more than that number of mules and oxen. There is also a fully-equipped sugar mill, which turns out thousands of pounds of refined sugar each year. In fact, the Colonel told me, as we were seated at the great dining table, that would seat forty persons, and which was spread with the good things of life: “Everything on the table, except the flour used in making the bread, was raised on this plantation.”
The Colonel reminded me of the feudal lords of old, for the eight thousand people who live on his plantations not only depend on him for labour, but look up to him and tip their hats respectfully whenever they see him. The work of taking care of the coffee trees is all let out to families at so much a thousand trees per year, and a family will take care of five thousand trees. The price paid is from $25.00 to $30.00 per thousand per year for hoeing and cleaning the fields, and they are paid in addition to this for picking the coffee at established rates. Furthermore, they are permitted to plant corn and beans in between the coffee rows which gives them an extra profit. Day labourers are paid at the rate of $.90 to $1.00 for each day’s work.