The flat swampy land on which Pernambuco stands is surrounded, at
the distance of a few miles, by a semicircle of low hills, or
rather by the edge of a country elevated perhaps two hundred feet
above the sea. The old city of Olinda stands on one extremity of
this range. One day I took a canoe, and proceeded up one of the
channels to visit it; I found the old town from its situation both
sweeter and cleaner than that of Pernambuco. I must here
commemorate what happened for the first time during our nearly five
years' wandering, namely, having met with a want of politeness; I
was refused in a sullen manner at two different houses, and
obtained with difficulty from a third, permission to pass through
their gardens to an uncultivated hill, for the purpose of viewing
the country. I feel glad that this happened in the land of the
Brazilians, for I bear them no good will--a land also of slavery,
and therefore of moral debasement. A Spaniard would have felt
ashamed at the very thought of refusing such a request, or of
behaving to a stranger with rudeness. The channel by which we went
to and returned from Olinda was bordered on each side by mangroves,
which sprang like a miniature forest out of the greasy mud-banks.
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