It was among the ruins of the south wing that the hermit lived. We visited the room in which he was said to be generally found, but he was not there. We then passed through a small court nearly choked with rubbish, and entered a large dark room, partly filled with old bricks and lime. Upon the floor of this wretched apartment we found him lying, presenting a most miserable appearance. His only covering consisted of a piece of thin black cloth wrapped round his body, his head, arms, legs, and feet being bare. He appeared to be about sixty years of age, but his long grey hair and beard made him look older, perhaps, than he really was. He was moaning and otherwise seemed to be in great agony, and it was with some difficulty he told us that two days before, while walking across the floor of the room above, it gave way, and he was precipitated to the place where we found him extended, and from which he was unable to move. We tried to raise him, but the slightest movement gave him excruciating pain. As some of his bones seemed to be broken, a young man who had accompanied us, went off immediately to procure assistance, and have him taken to the hospital. All the information I could obtain relating to this unfortunate being, was that at one time, he had been an officer in the army, and was now doing penance for a murder he had committed in his youth. We also visited a convent, the nuns belonging to which prepare preserved fruits for sale. Unlike the one I visited at Bahia, we could only speak to, not see, those who were within. The fruit was put upon a shelf of a revolving kind of cupboard, and in this manner sent out to us; the money and empty plates were returned in the same way. Like all the preserves I have met with in the country, those we had here were spoiled with too much sugar.