We traversed another salt marsh this afternoon. The marsh I have mentioned as having crossed on the 4th of this month, was the only one of that description which I met with. The others I have spoken of, and those which I shall have occasion to mention, are dry, and the soil upon them in summer is hard, it is dark coloured and produces no grass, but upon the skirts of the marshes are seen several sea-side plants, and the water that oozes from them is quite salty. Our road the next morning lay through brushwood for three leagues over heavy sand, and three leagues over a salt marsh. Near mid-day we passed a cottage, in which resided the herdsman of a _fazenda_ and immediately beyond, ascended a hill of heavy sand called Tibou, from which we again saw the sea. I scarcely can describe the sensations which were occasioned by this sight; I felt as if I was at home, as if free to act as I pleased. The spring of water near to the cottage was dried up, but there was one on the opposite side of the sand-hill, which still afforded a small supply; we now took up our mid-day station under a miserable hut, erected at the summit of the hill, by the inhabitants of the cottage, for the purpose of curing their fish; they had fixed upon this spot from its height and consequent exposure to the wind. The descent to the sea-shore is steep, but not dangerous, as the depth of the sand prevents any apprehension of a horse falling and rolling down. The great length of the journies of the two last days, had almost knocked up the horse upon which my Goiana guide rode; I saw that the man was not inclined to walk for the purpose of easing the animal, and therefore wishing to see what could be done by example, I dismounted and took off the greatest part of my cloaths, removed the bit from my horse’s mouth, tied the bridle round his neck, and turned him loose among the others; this had the desired effect, and John also was then ashamed to be the only person on horseback.