stands a lighthouse. The mountains,
particularly on the city side, were extremely bold,
and those on the very verge of the bay were
strangely broken up, and, as it were, clustered
together. Amongst these towered
conspicuously the one called the Sugar-loaf
from its smooth and conical form rising perpendicularly
from the water nine hundred feet
high. To all appearance its summit must
be inaccessible; yet not so, for we were
informed that a party, including an English
and an American lady, not long ago scaled it,
carrying up a tent and all the requisites for
a gay picnic, and there spent not only a jovial
day, but also passed the night. They had to
be pulled up and let down by ropes in some
places; but such matters are trifles to the
mountain-climbing ladies of English blood or
descent.

These rocky hills on the margin of the bay
are backed by much loftier ones, actual
mountains which are spurs of the mighty Andes,
which ascend higher and higher towards the
interior. High above them all towers the
Corcovada, a huge square-headed
mountainous crag, shooting up like some tower of
the ancient Anakims, and the Gavia and their
neighbouring heights look sublimely down on
the noble bay of Nitherohy, or the Hidden
Water. This range forms also a grand
background to the city, and at its feet, some four
miles beyond this, lies the emperor's palace
of Boa Vista.The hills on the opposite
side of the bay are very fine, and near the
entrance very bold too, having amongst them
also a sugar-loaf. There are several forts, on
the shores and on islands in the bay; the
chief, Fort Santa Cruz, on the right hand
as you enter, where all ships passing in
or out are hailed, and required to give an
account of themselves.

As you advance, the city opens gradually
upon you imposingly, stretching along the
shores, and crowning sundry hills, with its
white-walled and red-tiled houses, its churches,
convents, and fine terraces; and the town of
Praia Grande, or the Great Strand, on the
opposite shores, at  a distance of several miles,
extending along its fine crescent-shaped shore,
amongst lovely hills and woods, completes one
of the most enchanting panoramas in the
world.  At night, both Rio—or properly, St.
Sebastian—and Praia Grande, are extremely
well lighted with gas, and the effect is
magical.  Long circling sweeps of lights, all
apparently on an exact level, and at regular
intervals, present the illuminated outlines of
the towns on both sides of the bay.  Above
these starlike dottings, the illumination is
extended according as the streets and houses
ascend the sides and crown the summits
of the hills.

By day, the eye wanders from the
wonderful group of cones, peaks, and broken
eminences near the mouth of the bay, up to the
lofty Corcovada; and thence, to the dense
expanses of red-tiled roofs, the long white
facades of public and private buildings, inns,
hospitals, arsenals, academies, monasteries,
and colleges of Jesuits, the domed towers of
churches, intermingled with pleasant hills
and deep-green masses of evergreen foliage.

Rio is a city of two hundred thousand
people, and presents a lively scene of varied
nationalities and costumes. Black, and white,
and tawny faces vary the aspect of the
throngs on the quays, the ample squares, and
streets. Vessels of war, English, French,
and American, lie off the town; further up
a numerous assemblage of vessels of
commerce and small craft shows itself behind
the Isle of Cobras. Steamers are continually
plying across to Praia Grande, or downwards
to Botafogo, whence gay music often sounds.
Strong, active, merry-looking Africans, all
slaves, but looking not a whit depressed by
their slavery, pull your boat to the quay,
where very motley groups surround you,
and all sorts of cards are thrust into your
hands by the touters of inns, and vendors of
all imaginable things, from ships' stores down
to straw-hats and drapery, feather flowers
and stuffed birds. Numbers of very blue
cards offer you " wines, spirits, tobacco,
cigars, soap, and groceries of the best description."
Others kindly invite you to the Hotel
Pharoux, the Exchange Hotel, in the Rua
Direita, kept by your countrymen,
Macdowall and Loader, and greatly frequented
by the English merchants. Others entice
you " to the Duck," and like genteel
establishments.

Intending to make our way to to the Hotel
Pharoux, a large house facing the quay, and
looking just like one of the great hotels on
the Rhine, having its name blazoned in
French, English, and Portuguese, along its
front between numerous rows of windows,
we found ourselves officiously attended by a
waiter-looking personage, who on stepping
on land, instantly, to our great astonishment,
ized our hands in a most familiar manner
and exclaimed, " How d'ye do? Glad to see
you in Rio! " Preceded by this very
amicable gentleman, we advanced into what we
thought the Hotel Pharoux, but which turned
out to be a shop, where our guide, with
profound bows and most gracious smiles, begged
us to survey his establishment, and honour
his Magazine by an order. We made a rapid
retreat, and perceiving a large French-looking
staircase, at the back of the huge pile of
building, ascended successfully into the inn.

Here we seemed at once transported to the
European continent. There were the same
groups of tables ready spread for lunching,
or dining a la carte;  the same sort of people
seated at some of them; the same buzz of
conversation, in various languages, going on; the
same French waiters, French dishes, French
wines; the same half shabby, half gentlemanly
host, paying no apparent attention to
the guests, or the business of the house; and
the same lady-like young hostess, very slim