Next morning by break of day we again continued our journey. At about two miles from Frechal the ascent of the mountains begins. From thence to Mr. March’s Fazenda, which stands at an elevation of upwards of 3,000 feet above the level of the sea, is twelve miles. During the whole way the road is very bad, and in many places so steep, that it is with considerable difficulty the mules make their way up it. Indeed, to one unused to travel on such paths, which have more the appearance of the bed of a mountain torrent than a road for beasts of burden, many parts of it appear impassable; but he is soon undeceived by the slow yet sure manner in which the mules pass along the worst portion of it, especially if left entirely to themselves. The whole length of the road is through one dense forest, the magnificence of which cannot be imagined by those who have never seen it, or penetrated into its recesses. Those remnants of the virgin forest which still stand in the vicinity of the capital, although they appear grand to the eye of a newly-arrived European, become insignificant when compared with the mass of giant vegetation which clothes the sides of the Organ Mountains. So far as I have been able to determine, the large forest trees consist of various species of _Palms_, _Laurus_, _Ficus_, _Cassia_, _Bignonia_, _Solanum_, _Myrtaceæ_, and _Melastomaceæ_. In temperate climates natural forests are mostly composed of trees which grow gregariously. In those of tropical countries it is seldom that two trees of a kind are to be seen growing together, the variety of different species is so great. Many of the trees are of immense size, and have their trunks and branches covered with myriads of those plants which are usually called parasites, but are not so in reality, consisting of _Orchideæ_, _Bromeliaceæ_, _Ferns_, _Peperomiæ_, &c., which derive their nourishment from the moisture of their bark, and the earthy matter which has been formed from the decay of mosses, &c. Many of the trees have their trunks encircled by twiners, the stems of which are often thicker than those they surround. This is particularly the case with a kind of wild fig, called by the Brazilians, Cipo Matador. It runs up the tree to which it has attached itself, and at the distance of about every ten feet throws out from each side a thick clasper, which curves round, and closely entwines the other stem. As both the trees increase in size, the pressure ultimately becomes so great, that the supporting one dies from the embrace of the parasite.