Boarding the semi-weekly express train at Petropolis, which is here termed “_grande velocidade_,” we were soon winding around the hills and through the narrow passes threaded by the river. Occasionally little primitive villages and a few unimportant adobe towns picturesquely grouped along the banks of the stream were passed. The scenery is beautiful as pass after pass unfolds itself on the journey down to lower altitudes. One is impressed by the extent of mountainous territory which is encountered by the traveller all over the republic, with the exception of the country traversed by the mighty Amazon and its tributaries. It is a constant surprise to see the vast amount of soil in Brazil that is actually without development. Mile after mile of this land, which is within a comparatively short distance of the capital, had the appearance of never having been occupied by settlers, or ever having been disturbed by agriculturists. Although broken it could well be adapted to the raising of stock, at least for sheep and goats, for these animals would find sustenance. It seemed to me that cattle could be raised profitably also, since it would not be necessary to feed them, as pasture will grow all the year round. [Illustration: AN OX TEAM OF MINAS GERAES.] The few natives who did live in the little mud-brick huts, with thatch roofs, that cling to the side of the hills eked out a very poor existence, if one judged by the appearance of everything around their homes. A few chickens and pigs with plenty of dogs, perhaps a mule and a cow, constituted the only stock that one could see. A little patch of corn, a banana stalk or two, and perhaps a patch of mandioca root, seemed to be the only attempt at agriculture of the improvident negro or poor whites who dwell on these beautiful hills. The houses contain only the very crudest of furniture with rude beds and the very simplest of culinary outfit. Nature is perhaps too bountiful, and man depends upon that bounty rather than his own exertions.