of the principal inhabitants, Senhor Venancio, a house was ready for me on landing. The only recommendation of the dwelling was its coolness. It was, in fact, rather damp; the plastered walls bore a crop of green mould, and a slimy moisture oozed through the black, dirty floor; the rooms were large, but lighted by miserable little holes in place of windows. The village is built on a clayey plateau, and the ruinous houses are arranged round a large square, which is so choked up with tangled bushes that it is quite impassable, the lazy inhabitants having allowed the fine open space to relapse into jungle. The stiff clayey eminence is worn into deep gullies which slope towards the river, and the ascent from the port in rainy weather is so slippery that one is obliged to crawl up to the streets on all fours. A large tract of ground behind the place is clear of forest, but this, as well as the streets and gardens, is covered with a dense, tough carpet of shrubs, having the same wiry nature as our common heath. Beneath its deceitful covering the soil is always moist and soft, and in the wet season the whole is converted into a glutinous mud swamp. There is a very pretty church in one corner of the square, but in the rainy months of the year (nine out of the twelve) the place of worship is almost inaccessible to the inhabitants on account of the mud, the only means of getting to it being by hugging closely the walls and palings, and so advancing sideways step by step.
I remained in this delectable place until the 25th of January, 1857. Fonte Boa, in addition to its other amenities, has the reputation throughout the country of
