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The next day the senhor's festival took place. I should be more exact, perhaps, to say the festival of the negroes. In the morning punishments were revoked, and the prisons thrown open. A padre of the neighborhood came and celebrated mass in a large storehouse, which had been temporarily transformed into a chapel. A table, covered with a cloth, served as an altar. Outside were crouched several hundred slaves of both sexes, of all ages, and of every complexion. I was watching the little half-naked negroes, whining like young wild-cats upon their mother's knees, the tame monkeys gravely foraging on the heads of the young negresses, the parrots screeching Quer cafe? (want some coffee?) and the dogs running hither and thither among the groups, when, at a signal given by the sacristan, the choir of negresses commenced a religious hymn. It was a mixture of wild exclamations—an indescribable clucking—strange sounds, in which there was nothing human, and which would defy analysis by the most skilful ear. The negroes took up the refrain at the end of each strophe, and completed the tumult. Things were carried to such a point, that the dog of my guide, which had hitherto been content to play with the monkeys, suddenly got excited at the noise, and began barking at the negroes. His example was soon followed by all his kindred of the estate, and the din shortly became infernal. Fortunately, the padre went earnestly to work, and mass was soon said. When the crowd had dispersed, I approached the priest and asked him to what language those strange utterances belonged. He confessed that he did not know, and that he had never taken the trouble to inform himself—'E costume'—(it is the custom,) he added in conclusion.

After mass the slaves ranged themselves in line in the court-yard to be reviewed. They formed in double rank, parallel to the mansion. The first, composed exclusively of men, presented a fine appearance. The second, composed of women, children, and infants at the breast, did not present so good an aspect, however, as would be desirable on such an occasion. A feitor first called the roll, and then the inspection began. The fazendeiro silently passed along the lines, stopping before each slave with the grave and scrutinizing gaze of an old sergeant inspecting his company. The negro, with bare head, his gaze bent downward, and his arms crossed upon his breast, stretched out his right hand for the benças as soon as his master arrived before him, instantly replacing it in its former position, and waiting with the greatest anxiety for the inquisitive gaze that was fixed upon him to be removed to his neighbor. The only reproofs I saw were administered to those negresses who had neglected to extract the bichos (the jigger, or pulex penetrans) from the feet of their little ones.

After the review, my cicerone re-conducted me to the room where mass had been performed. A new metamorphosis had taken place. The chapel had become a store-room, and the altar served as a counter. 'All these goods that you see,' said he, pointing to the stuffs—woollen caps, shirts, pipes, foulards, calicoes of all kinds, etc.—'are for my slaves. Like most planters in Brazil, I give my