controlling Pernambuco
before the month of September was barely half sped, he was either too
sanguine, or too literal in his translation of easy-going Portuguese
into vigorous English.

His _quinta_, or country house, was situated on the upper watershed of
the river Moxoto. There he raised his standard, thither flocked rebels
galore, and in that direction, with due caution, President Barraca
pushed columns of troops by road and rail from Bahia, from Pernambuco,
and from Maceio itself. For Barraca held the sea, and the wealthy and
enterprising south was strongly opposed to war, while Dom Corria
trusted to the mountains and drew his partisans from the less energetic
north. This bald statement has an unconvincing sound in the ears of
races which dwell north of the equator, but it must be remembered that
Brazil, in more respects than one, is the land of topsy-turveydom.
Were it not that the mass of the people was heartily sick of a corrupt
regime, De Sylva would have been dead or in irons on his way back to
Fernando Noronha well within the time allotted for the consolidation of
his rule. As it was, minor insurrections were breaking out in the
southern provinces, the reigning President could trust only in the
navy, and the conservatism of commerce and society, as represented by
the great landowners of Rio de Janeiro, Sao Paulo, and Minas Geraes,
alone stifled the upgrowth of an overwhelming national movement in Dom
Corria's favor.

In a word, De Sylva commanded public sympathy but small resources;
Barraca was unpopular but controlled the navy and part of the army.
Given such conditions--with the added absurdity that the troops on both
sides were most unwilling to face long-range rifle fire but would
cheerfully hack each other to mince-meat with knives--and a tedious,
indeterminate campaign is the certain outcome. De Sylva had said that
local conflicts were usually "short and fierce." Applied to such
upheavals as had taken place in the capital during recent years, the
phrase was strictly accurate. He himself had been bundled out of
office between Mass and Vespers on a memorable Sunday. But a convict
on a remote island cannot organize such a perfect example of a
successful revolt. He had done much in gaining a good foothold; the
rest must be left to time and chance.

A few indecisive but sanguinary engagements were fought in the
neighborhood of Pesqueira, a town in the hills about one hundred miles
from the seabo