We resumed our journey at an early hour next day, along an excellent road in the middle of a valley, formed by lofty mountains. After travelling about three miles, we came to a house, called the _Padeira_ (bake-house), which is reckoned half way between Sapitiva and the capital. From this place the road gradually becomes more enlivened by dwellings and plantations, (but many of the former, are wretched hovels erected for the sale of bacon, corn, liquors, &c.) and by numbers of countrymen bringing produce from every part of the south-west, even from the far districts of Goyazes, Coritiva, Cuyaba, S. Paulo, and Mato Grosso. It is not uncommon to see eight hundred or a thousand mules passing and repassing in the course of a day, besides numerous droves of fine cattle for the use of the city. Our heavy-laden and weary mules travelled so slowly, that we did not come within sight of Rio de Janeiro, until about three in the afternoon. On reaching the eminence, which commanded the first prospect of this fine city, our joyful sensations banished every feeling of fatigue. One of the party, who had advanced a few paces, rode back as fast as his mule could go, exclaiming, “the English flag.” We hastened onward, and beheld one of the most welcome sights that ever greeted the eyes of a traveller, with a remembrance of his native country—a squadron of our men of war at anchor in the bay, which had recently escorted the court of Portugal to an asylum in their own dominions, beyond the reach of their foes. We no longer felt uneasy at the thought of entering a large city inhabited by strangers; we knew that the name of Englishman would be a passport among them, and we anticipated something of that delight which is connected with the near prospect of home. I, who had for eighteen months lingered in exile, and beheld each setting sun close another day of almost hopeless captivity, enjoyed this evening-scene with indescribable emotion; it was here, that, for the first time since my landing in South America, I had just reason to promise myself a night’s repose in freedom, safety, and peace.
We soon reached the suburbs, which are very large and pleasant, being agreeably interspersed with gardens and pleasure-grounds. About five o’clock we halted in the vicinity of Campo de Santa Anna, at an inn, or rather hostelry for cattle, whence, having secured our baggage in the miserable stall allotted to us, we sallied forth in search of the friends who left us at St. Catherine’s. Accustomed, as we long had been, to rude and solitary scenes, we were forcibly struck with the opulence of this city, displayed in its magnificent buildings and regular streets. While engaged in anxious enquiries after our friends, we accidentally met one of them, who, with unspeakable joy, conducted us to the rest; and the evening was passed most agreeably in relating our several encounters, and in asking and answering innumerable questions. Returning to our inn at midnight, we remained with our luggage until morning, when we carted it up to the house of our friends in Rua dos Pescadores.