l
day we had just passed, I know not, but I never enjoyed an hour in the
open air so much. We rode out of the town by some pretty country-houses,
called _sitios_, to one of the out-posts at Mondego, which was formerly
the governor's residence. The tamarind, the silk-cotton tree[47], and
the palm, shaded us, and a thousand elegant shrubs adorned the garden
walls. It is impossible to describe the fresh delicious feel of such an
evening, giving repose and health after the fiery day. We were very
sorry when obliged to return home; but the sun was gone, there was no
moon, and we were afraid that the guards at the various posts of defence
might stop us. As we came back, we were challenged at every station; but
the words, _amigos ingresos_ were our passport, and we got to Recife
just as the evening hymn was singing, harshly and unmusically enough, by
the negroes and mulattoes in the streets; but yet every thing that
unites men in one common sentiment is interesting. The church doors were
open, the altars illuminated, and the very slave felt that he was
addressing the same Deity, by the same privilege with his master. It is
an evening I can never forget.

[Illustration]

[Note 47: Bombex pentandrium. _Jaquin._]

_28th._--This morning before breakfast, looking from the balcony of Mr.
S.'s house, I saw a white woman, or rather fiend, beating a young
negress, and twisting her arms cruelly while the poor creature screamed
in agony, till our gentlemen interfered. Good God! that such a traffic,
such a practice as that of slavery, should exist. Near the house there
are two or three depots of slaves, all young; in one, I saw an infant of
about two years old, for sale. Provisions are now so scarce that no bit
of animal food ever seasons the paste of mandioc flour, which is the
sustenance of slaves: and even of this, these poor children, by their
projecting bones and hollow cheeks, show that they seldom get a
sufficiency. Now, money also is so scarce, that a purchaser is not
easily found, and one pang is added to slavery: the unavailing wish of
finding a master! Scores of these poor creatures are seen at different
corners of the streets, in all the listlessness of despair--and if an
infant attempts to crawl from among them, in search of infantile
amusement, a look of pity is all the sympathy he excites. Are the
patriots wrong? They have put arms into the hands of the _new_ negroes,
while the recollection of their own country, and of t