Part 7

We finally left San Paulo after a very agreeable visit, on the 25th of March, by the 9.30 train for Santos, with a tolerable number of passengers, and some friends who kindly accompanied us on our journey. Between San Paulo and San Bernardo station, a distance of about ten miles, the road is tolerably level, and the country more or less open, though uncultivated save in small plots. At this station I got upon the engine with Mr. Fox, and came upon sharp curves and many cuttings until we reached Rio Grande Station, after which, for a distance of seven miles, the works are very heavy, some of the inclines being one in fifty and one in sixty. Nothing near but dense forests, without a human habitation to be seen. Approaching the top of the Serra, it appeared completely shut in by the range of mountains in front of us, the road winding and twisting till we suddenly reached the small platform, whence the descent of the mountain begins, and a glorious prospect opens out of the valley below, with the sea in the distance; yet not without a vague feeling of anxiety as to the novel position in which we find ourselves placed. I was allowed to ride on the break again, and it is certainly a wonderful sight, whilst being slowly let down the lifts which I have before described. The day was light and the atmosphere clear, the light and shade on the dense mass of foliage with which the mountains are clothed appearing to great advantage, like a huge carpet spread over the face of nature. It is decidedly worth a visit from Europe to go over the railway, and few can help wondering how it was ever made, under what must have appeared almost insurmountable difficulties in such a country and such a climate; the pioneers obliged to live in the forests and often short of the necessaries of life. Without traversing the line it is impossible to form any idea of the magnitude of the undertaking, or how the boilers and machinery for the stationary engines were dragged up the mountains, almost without a track, much less a road, for a total height of 2,600 feet above the level of the sea. The Paulistos ought to be proud of their railway, and Englishmen of the skill and endurance of their countrymen in making it; at the same time, it cannot be denied that many errors of construction have been committed, and even at the present moment the working power of the line is crippled for want of locomotives, besides which those on the metals are not adapted to it, as I have previously explained. Red-tapery and official conceit have produced the same result here as in other places, to give way eventually to a practical common sense view of things; not without entailing, however, losses upon the unfortunate shareholders. The line being again open throughout, a considerable arrear of traffic is waiting to come down from Jundiahy, which will severely tax the insufficient rolling stock and locomotive power at the disposal of the manager; but at all events it is satisfactory to know that the traffic is likely to be a steady one, with a considerable future prospect when once its requirements are fairly met by the company.

We reached the foot of the Serra before noon, and at one o'clock we were at Santos station, the whole distance from San Paulo to Santos being 48⅞ miles; rather a long time on the way, but the Serra itself takes an hour, and there are several stoppages at the stations. Some time is also occupied in waiting at the foot of the Serra for the second portion of the train (it is divided into three carriages each lift) to come down and join before proceeding forward. This process of course takes place both ways. Contrast this system, however, with that of pack mules, and what an immense stride does it represent in the means of transit and communication.

Santos was cooler than when we went there before, and the day was fine and bright. The steamer did not sail until four o'clock, so we strolled about and got some dinner. The departure was punctual, and sailing down the river to the bar the surrounding scenery, tinged by the glowing afternoon sun, gave everything a very cheerful, though grandly picturesque aspect. The friends who had kindly accompanied us from San Paulo here left us in a boat, to land at the bar, which is a favourite watering place, and where many nice cottages are built. We steamed on, passed the small fort, and were soon in the open Atlantic, the boat dancing about more than was agreeable to some of the passengers, who soon disappeared below. The Santa Maria is a powerful boat, steaming her twelve knots an hour, with very good accommodation; but the wind and sea being against us, we did not get into Rio harbour before noon the next day, taking 20 hours for a distance of about 180 miles.

TRIP TO JUIZ DE FORA.—THE DOM PEDRO SEGUNDO RAILWAY.

To estimate the resources of a country with such an enormous extent of territory as Brazil by the quantity of cotton, sugar, coffee, or other products she actually exports, or by the extent of the towns and cities on her seaboard, would be to form a very inadequate idea of what those resources are capable of becoming by means of imported labour, the extension of railways, and other transport facilities in the shape of good roads. Even with the present limited population, railways are calculated to swell enormously the amount of Brazilian productions, as they naturally lead to the opening out of other modes of intercommunication, and draw towards them subsidiary streams of traffic, which have hitherto been unable to find a vent. It is only when a railway penetrates the primeval forests, and goes into the heart of a country, that an adequate idea can be formed of what it is capable of being made, or that the state of existing cultivation can be seen under all the drawbacks arising from the want of labour, added to the difficult and expensive means of transport. This has been very clearly shown in the case of the San Paulo Railway, which, with the proposed extension to Campinas, will reach at once the great producing districts, and enable the cultivators of them to make their calculations to a nicety as to the cost of laying down their coffee or cotton at the port of Santos, and whether or not it can repay them to extend their production with the means at present under their command. The result will doubtless be a very large addition to the exports from Santos.

But to return to the Dom Pedro II. Railway. On the day previous to my leaving Rio, I had made the acquaintance, through the introduction of a friend at home, of Dr. Gunning, who, I found to my surprise, lived some fifty miles up the line, and he very kindly invited me to remain the night with them, instead of going on direct to Entre Rios. Accordingly at noon the next day, (the 4th April), we started by a train that only runs at that hour on Saturday, the ordinary ones being at 5 a.m., which involves getting up in the middle of the night to those who are any distance from the station. The train was a very full one, and I had to be content with a seat on my own portmanteau at the beginning of my journey, the carriage being open, and built in the American style, with sofas and chairs round the sides. The station is large and commodious, with plenty of sheds and warehouses for receiving produce. The pace was pretty good; the train passing the suburbs of the city, then the abatoirs, where cattle are slaughtered, with hundreds of the large black vultures hovering about; afterwards going through the Emperor's grounds and not far from his palace. Many fine country houses are near the line, which become fewer in number until we reach the first station called Sapepomba, at a short distance from which is a fine estate belonging; to the Baron de Mauá, whose name is a household word in Brazil. This estate is worked by an American, who married an adopted daughter of the Baron, and has now a very large tract of sugar cane under cultivation. It presents in other respects all the evidence of good management. The public road runs close to the station. We proceed through lowlands, with cattle grazing on some of them, until we reached the station of Machabamba, in the neighbourhood of which the Baron de Bomfim has also a large sugar estate as well as ground for grazing cattle. At this station, as at most others, were so-called hotels, where eating and drinking is carried on much after the fashion in other countries, and a number of passengers got out apparently to spend the Sunday in the country.

After traversing some fine open country, bounded by mountains on all sides, we crossed what is called the dismal swamp, where so many people lost their lives during the construction of the line; this part of the line reminded one of the swamps about which so much has been written in connection with the Panama Railway. The next station we came to was that of Belem, an important place at the foot of the great mountain rise. I may perhaps observe that many plots of land, after we left the suburbs of Rio, were cultivated with mandioca, the great staple article of food in this country, and doubtless much of what is now a waste will soon be brought into requisition for the production of this commodity. At Belem there was a good display of refreshment, substantial and light creature comforts evidently being appreciated by the Brazilians; oranges, figs, and sweets of various kinds were brought also to the carriage doors. Here we exchanged the ordinary English locomotive for one of the powerful American description, calculated to mount the hills, which we began to ascend immediately after leaving Belem station, and here commences the really interesting feature of the works. The American “horse,” as it is termed, began snorting, the whistle making a frightfully loud noise,—a sort of steam gong, which can be heard at a very great distance. The train now twists and turns round the sharp curves, the scenery becomes grand and imposing as we go up, and at one point, after proceeding eight or ten miles through a succession of tunnels and embankments, a stone could be thrown across the ridge to the place we left. The views of the valleys, with the spurs of the hills planted with coffee and Indian corn, are very pretty, and one is called Paraiso, or paradise, though I think that title might be much more appropriately applied to the valley opposite Dr. Gunning's house, which is called the Valley of Monkeys, I suppose because many exist in the woods there. The elevation attained on reaching Dr. Gunning's station was upwards of 1,300 feet, in about 2½ hours from Rio, and here I was persuaded to rest over Sunday, resuming my journey by rail on Monday morning.

Dr. Gunning's little colony, for it quite amounts to that, took me quite by surprise, as I was utterly ignorant of its existence. As I said before, the valley which it overlooks might justly be termed that of Paraiso, instead of the other we passed in ascending the mountains. It takes a range of some 20 to 30 miles, with a series of hills or spurs rising from it, backed by the mountains which tower over Rio de Janeiro. The house is built on the foreground, with an extensive balcony in front, where you sit in a rocking chair in a state of quiet ecstacy and wonder how such an enchanting spot can be so little known in a great city comparatively so near to it. From the balcony you can see the trains moving upwards, popping now and again into the numerous tunnels, there being no less than thirteen between the house and the foot of the mountain and sixteen or seventeen over the whole line. The Doctor has constructed two or three neat cottages on his land, and there is also within hail a charming one erected by Mr. Gotto when he was out here as Engineer of the Rio Improvements Company. It is situated at a point which also commands a fine view of the noble valley, and is at present occupied by an American merchant. The Doctor is about to build other cottages on his land, and is laying out the site for a hotel, which ought to be very attractive to Rio residents in search of fresh air and renovated health. It is difficult to conceive a more lovely situation, or one surrounded by more attractive scenery. Before dinner we took a walk in the fine shady woods below the house, and at night enjoyed the effect of a splendid moon from a balcony where the scene in Romeo and Julliet might be admirably enacted, a place of all others adapted for the interchange of “lovers' vows.” We were, however, a very sober-minded, but pleasant party, and enjoyed ourselves with “sweethearts and wives” over a glass of toddy. On Sunday morning I rose early to look at one of the greatest natural curiosities it is possible to conceive. A light vapoury mist, “white as the driven snow,” covered the entire valley; with here and there the tops of hills appearing like islands in a sea; indeed, one could hardly believe that what one saw was simply mist, and not something more tangible and substantial. This gradually disappeared as the sun topped the heights, and then all became bright and verdant as on the previous day. Residents in the valley feel wrapt in a kind of shroud whilst the mist is over them, but no evil effects appear to result from it. An American missionary, Mr. Blackford, who was for some time stationed at the city of San Paulo, and was, with his wife, a guest of Dr. Gunning, read a portion of the Church Service in Portuguese and preached a sermon in the same language to the household and a number of people employed about the place, after which we wandered about, dined, and enjoyed another quiet moonlight evening looking over the happy valley. There is quite a little society of Americans residing about here, which renders it anything but a solitude.

I left this hospitable retreat on Monday, by the train which passes at 8 a.m., and continued to find a series of wonderful curves and tunnels until we reached the station of Barra, where a good comfortable breakfast was waiting for such passengers as chose to avail of it.

I was joined by the son of Mr. Ellison, head engineer of the line, who is making a branch near Disengano station, in the direction of San Paulo, with which it is eventually intended to connect this province. He made himself very agreeable, and gave me much valuable information.

I should not omit to allude to the really beautiful scenery passed through between Entre Rios and Barra, where the passengers breakfasted. I walked to look at a very handsome bridge erected over the River Parahyba, which becomes here a considerable stream, running the whole distance to Entre Rios, where it meets the Parahybuna, which comes down from Minas Geraes, the latter emptying itself into the sea at San Joao de Barra, after passing the important town of Campos.

The railway, which is here 122 miles in length from Rio de Janeiro, is to be extended to another point on the Parahyba called Porto da Cunha, making a total distance of about 160 miles, the latter portion tapping valuable sources of traffic, as the river is only navigable a short way from its mouth. Besides its 16 tunnels, small and great, the railway is crossed by several handsome bridges, first to one bank of the river and then the other, as the gradients were found favourable, and there is one very fine station, called Disengano, a portion of the cost of which was contributed by the Marqueza de Bependi, who has a magnificent fazenda near to it, and numerous large picturesque fazendas are seen at different bends of the river, which rolls along in its rocky bed, with a succession of small rapids, the hills above it being covered with coffee, Indian corn, and mandioca, all now ripe. Where this cultivation does not exist either virgin forests or cattle grazing form the variety, and the former still occupy a large portion of the country we passed through, particularly between Uba station and that of Parahyba do Sul. I am told that Vassoura, a city about seven miles from the station of that name, is prettily situated and interesting, but of course it is impossible to see everything in so extraordinary a range of country.

We reached Entre Rios station before noon, and found the stage coach waiting; also a tolerable dinner, which the flies tried to participate in, being only held in check by boys with large feather fans. The place, I believe, is infested by flies from the number of mules kept there; but the company is improving and extending the accommodation for passengers, the head station being 800 feet in length. The guard of the “Mazeppa” summons the passengers, and away we started with four good mules, amidst dust and bustle, by a regular stage coach of the old English type, the first stage being along the banks of the Rio Preto, coming down from the mines. The road was all that had been described to me and more; a perfectly good, smooth, macadamised one, fenced in with groups of bamboo on the river side and aloes on the other, along which we drove at the rate of nine to ten miles an hour. I was inside at starting, but some passengers left at the second station, Parahybuna, when I mounted on the front seat for the remainder of the journey, and enjoyed as fine a ride, for good travelling and good scenery, as it is possible to conceive.

The road belongs to a Brazilian company called the “Uniao e Industria,” started some few years back, and now carrying on a large and profitable traffic, chiefly in merchandise; but the stage coaches are a very important feature as regards accommodation for the public. The stations where they change mules are large and commodious, with warehouses for receiving produce, and that of Parahybuna is in a most picturesque situation, a huge granite mountain on one side and in front of the river, which rushes down over rocks, forming cascades here and there, with a long bridge which we had to cross. A good many dwelling houses are built about these stations, belonging, I conclude, to people connected with the road. Our next station was Simon Pereira, about which there is a good deal of woodland scenery, reminding one of parts of Wales, with the road winding in and out round the hills; and on this stage is a very fine fazenda known by the name of Solidade, the property of the Baron Bertiago, comprising, I am told, an immense district. Here we again come upon the mountain stream, which runs through the valley, always forming a rapid current as we keep ascending.

The next stage was Barboza, where we came up with another diligence, also from Petropolis, with a party, having a band of music outside, and Portuguese and Brazilian flags flying. They kept ahead of us, but at the last stage, Ponto Americano, a most romantic spot, we started almost together, our companion still keeping the lead, at a strong gallop, which our coachman imitated, and it was anything but an agreeable race into Juiz de Fora, to say nothing of the dust we had to take up in the wake of the front diligence. Nothing could be more beautiful than the scenery for the last stages, coffee and Indian corn plantations succeeded each other, mingled with virgin forests, grazing ground, waterfalls in the distance, entire trees covered with purple and yellow flowers, a perfect galaxy of tropical vegetation in its most attractive forms. The evening was pleasantly cool,—so cool as to cause one to button up his coat, and there was a sensation of freshness in the air like that of an autumn evening at home.

As the two coaches approached Juiz de Fora a large number of its residents turned out to see the arrival, which I believe was that of some new settlers, who must have been gratified with their reception. We drove on to the coach station, where I found that the gentleman I was anxious to see had gone to his fazenda that morning, some leagues distant; so I determined to await his return and went to a small hotel close to, called the “Union,” where I made myself as comfortable as the limited accommodation would permit.

Juiz de Fora is pleasantly situated on an elevated plateau, some 2,600 feet above the level of the sea, with a background of fine cultivated hills and a very picturesque waterfall. The originator and director of the flourishing company “Uniao e Industria” has built a magnificent house on an elevated spot which overlooks the whole valley, and his grounds are beautifully laid out with every species of tree to be found in Brazil, as well as those brought from other countries. There are ornamental waters, with swans, rare specimens of water fowl, and numbers of valuable birds, fowls, monkeys,—in fact, a little Zoological Garden of itself. Everything in the establishment was in keeping, evincing the good taste of the owner and the liberal manner in which he expends his large fortune. I had also the opportunity of going over a new building called the School of Agriculture, where modern agricultural implements are to be collected, as well as samples of live stock to improve the breed of cattle. There is a capital English stallion, two years old, descended from the celebrated Stockwell, brought out from England at great expense; another one of Norman breed, besides brood mares, bulls, Alderney cows—in short, the nucleus of a respectable cattle show, which it is intended to become, and the Emperor has announced his intention to visit the place in June next, though it will take some time to make it complete and in a state of efficiency. An intelligent Swiss gentleman presides over the School of Agriculture, and an English groom is very proud, as he may well be, of the silky coat and the healthy appearance of the descendant of Stockwell.

There is a nice little German colony at Juiz de Fora, mostly artisans in the company's employ, who live in very snug cottages, with little gardens attached to them, the women keeping cows, selling milk, &c. A death had occurred the day I was there, and the funeral was attended by all the elders of the colony, men and women, dressed in their best clothes, forming a very interesting group. The company employ some 3,000 mules in the traffic of their line, the breakers of them, as well as the coach drivers, being Germans. Mr. Treloar, jun., arrived from Rio with his wife and family during my stay here, leaving the next day with a large troop of mules, on a seven days' journey up to the mines.

Having seen all of interest in Juiz de Fora, I started on Thursday, the 9th of April, to return to Entre Rios, and thence on by the same “Uniao e Industria” road to Petropolis, a total distance of about 107 miles. I found the second half of the road as interesting as the first half I had gone over—all in the same perfect state, some parts between Entre Rios and Petropolis passing through splendid mountain scenery. Near Entre Rios the river is crossed by a very fine iron bridge. We reached Petropolis at dusk, amidst a shower of rain, the first I had met with on the whole journey, during which the weather was remarkably fine and cool in the higher ranges of the road, though hot and dusty on the level parts. For nearly the whole fifty miles the road winds by the bed of a rapid mountain stream, descending from the mountainous district about Petropolis, going to swell the river of which it is the source, forming a succession of cascades, the noise of whose waters makes “music to the ear,” enhancing the grandeur of the scenery through which it passes as well as cooling the atmosphere.