On the evening of the 22d we arrived at Juiz de Fora, and started at sunrise the next morning for the fazenda of Senhor Lage, some thirty miles beyond. We had a gay party, consisting of the family of Senhor Lage and that of his brother-in-law, Senhor Machado, with one or two other friends and ourselves. The children were as merry as possible, for a visit to the fazenda was a rarity, and looked upon by them as a great festivity. To transport us all with our luggage, two large coaches were provided, several mules, and a small carriage, while a travelling photographic machine, belonging to Senhor Machado, who is an admirable photographist, brought up the rear.[37] The day was beautiful and our road lay along the side of the Serra, commanding fine views of the inland country and the coffee plantations which covered the hillsides wherever the primeval forest had been cut down. The road is another evidence of the intelligence and energy of the proprietor. The old roads are mere mule tracks up one side of the Serra and down the other, gullied of course by all the heavy rains and rendered at times almost impassable. Senhor Lage has shown his neighbors what may be done for their comfort in a country life by abandoning the old method, and, instead of carrying the road across the mountain, cutting it in the side with so gradual an ascent as to make the ride a very easy one. It is but a four hours’ drive now from Juiz de Fora to the fazenda, whereas, until the last year, it was a day’s, or even in bad weather a two days’ journey on horseback. It is much to be desired that his example should be followed, for the absence of any tolerable roads in the country makes travelling in the interior almost an impossibility, and is the most serious obstacle to the general progress and prosperity. It seems strange that the governments of the different provinces, at least of the more populous ones, such as Minas Geräes and Rio, should not organize a system of good highways for the greater facility of commerce. The present mode of transportation on mule back is slow and cumbrous in the highest degree; it would seem as if, where the produce of the interior is so valuable, good roads would pay for themselves very soon. [Illustration: Fazenda de Santa Anna in Minas Geraës.] At about eleven o’clock we arrived at the “Fazenda,” the long, low, white buildings of which enclosed an oblong, open space divided into large squares, where the coffee was drying. Only a part of this extensive building is occupied as the living rooms of the family; the rest is devoted to all sorts of objects connected with the care of the coffee, provision for the negroes, and the like.