We set off again about two o’clock; I had intended to have ridden until sunset, and then to have put up near to some cottage, but a young man overtook us, and we entered into conversation. He lived at Papari, a village about half a league out of the road, and he pressed me so much to accompany him to sleep at his place, that I agreed. Papari is a deep and narrow valley, a most delightful situation. The whole of the valley is cultivated, and principally this year, the lands were in great request, as the rains had failed, and the high sandy lands had proved barren. For, whilst every other part of the country appeared dry and burnt up, this spot was in full verdure—it appeared to laugh at all around it, aware of its own superiority. The inhabitants seemed by their countenances to partake of the joyful looks of the land they lived in. Papari yet enjoys another advantage; though it is at the distance of three or four leagues from the sea, a salt water lake reaches it, so that its inhabitants have the fish brought to their own doors. The tide enters the lake, which is never dry, for although the fresh springs which run into it might fail, still it would always preserve a certain portion of water from the sea. The fishermen come up upon their small river _jangadas_, which do not require more than twelve inches of water. Papari is about five leagues from Cunhàû. Senhor Dionisio introduced me to his lady; he is a native of Portugal, and she a Brazilian. They possessed a small piece of land in the valley, and appeared to be comfortably situated. Papari may contain about three hundred inhabitants very much scattered. In the course of this year, I afterwards heard, that many persons flocked to it from other parts, owing to the absolute want of provisions. I went down to the edge of the lake to see the fishermen arrive, the people of the valley had all assembled to receive them; it was quite a Billingsgate in miniature—save that the Portugueze language does not admit of swearing. We dined in Brazilian style, upon a table raised about six inches from the ground, around which we sat or rather laid down upon mats; we had no forks, and the knives, of which there were two or three, were intended merely to sever the larger pieces of meat—the fingers were to do the rest. I remained at Papari during one entire day, that my horses might have some respite, that I might purchase another from Senhor Dionisio, and on poor Julio’s account, whose feet had begun to crack from the dryness of the sands.