The next morning I visited the negroes’ houses, and was much pleased to find one set apart for the reception of poor distressed travelling negroes, who here find a fatherly protection, and are allowed to stay as long a time as may suit their necessities. On taking leave of the good old gentleman, I could not prevail on him to accept any remuneration for his kindness, and he replied to my thanks with the warmest assurances of welcome. I crossed a fine stream, and rode through several plantations of sugar-cane, which were at this season nearly ready for cutting. The country, as we proceeded, gradually became more mountainous, and abounded with argillaceous schistus very full of quartz. After riding about sixteen miles, we saw a very singular mountain, or bare rock of granite, called Itambé, forming part of a high ridge which lay on our left. About four o’clock we arrived at a poor village, also called Itambé, situated near a fine river of the same name. This place was formerly of some consequence, but as the gold in its vicinity failed, it sunk into poverty and wretchedness. It contains about a thousand inhabitants, who, degraded to the lowest stage of inactive apathy, looked as if they were the ghosts of their progenitors haunting the ruins of their departed wealth.
Every thing about them bore a cheerless aspect; the houses were ready to fall to the ground through want of repair; the door-places were overgrown with grass, and the patches of garden-ground that here and there appeared, were covered with weeds. The face of the country, too, was entirely different from that which I had passed on my way hither, being universally sterile, dry, and stony. It may well be supposed, from this description, that our accommodations here were of the worst kind: we halted at a miserable abode, where they offered us some mouldy Indian corn and _feijones_, and, after a great deal of difficulty, procured us a fowl. My servant was obliged to clean all the utensils before they could be used; and the soldiers while cooking, were obliged to guard the pot lest some half-famished prowler should steal it. The commandant of the place, with whom we had afterwards some conversation, answered our remarks on the visible signs of starvation in the looks of the villagers, by coolly saying, “While they get Indian corn to eat, and water to drink, they will not die of hunger.” I was glad to depart from this home of famine as fast as possible, heartily joining in the exclamation which the Portuguese have bestowed upon it; “Das mizerias de Itambé _libera nos Domine_!”—(From the miseries of Itambé the Lord deliver us!)