tural wall of gneiss, which contained myriads of crystals
and mica schists, shone like silver in the spots where the sun struck it,
and with the lovely pure cobalt blue of the distant hills, the deep green
of the valley below, and the rich brown and yellow and red tints of the
near foreground, made one of the most exquisitely beautiful sights I have
ever witnessed. The nearest approach to it in my experience was,
perhaps, the eastern escarpment of the Abyssinian plateau in Africa,
where a similar panorama on a much smaller scale could be seen, but not
the same geological formation.

[Illustration: The President of Goyaz and his Family.]

[Illustration: Giant cactus in the background.]

No sooner had I recovered from the strangeness and marvellous beauty of
Nature's work around me, than I felt a great shock at seeing what men had
done in that region. We were at this point on the high road between Sao
Paulo, Uberaba and Goyaz capital. As my animals stumbled down the steep
escarpment traces could be seen of what must have been formerly a
beautiful paved road, well-drained on both sides with channels, and held
up in terraces by stone works where the gradient was steepest. Here and
there bits still remained, demonstrating how well the road had been made.
But, uncared for and abandoned, most of it had been washed away by the
heavy rains, which had turned that road into a foaming torrent in wet
weather. Near habitations, the well-cut slabs with which the road was
paved had come convenient to the natives for building purposes. During
the time of the Emperor Pedro II., I was told, that was a magnificent
road, kept in excellent repair.

Goyaz city lay before us down, down below, in the hollow of the huge
depression. Its single row of low whitewashed houses of humble
architectural pretensions became less and less impressive and less
picturesque as one got nearer. I had by that time grown quite accustomed
to this optical disillusion, for it was frequently the case with the work
of man in Brazil. It always needed distance--the greater distance the
better--to lend enchantment to it.

With a feeling of intense oppression--perhaps due to the stifling air and
the lower elevation (1,950 ft.) at which Goyaz city lay--we entered the
capital of Goyaz. At the sound of our mules upon the pavement, timid men,
timid women and children cautiously peeped from each window through the
half-closed Venetian blinds. We only had to turn round to pe