CHAPTER XV.

PUBLIC INSTITUTIONS OF RIO DE JANEIRO.—ORGAN MOUNTAINS.

VOYAGE FROM CEARÁ.—FRESHETS AT PERNAMBUCO.—ARRIVAL AT RIO.—COLLECTIONS.—VEGETATION ABOUT RIO AS COMPARED WITH THAT ON THE AMAZONS.—MISERICORDIA HOSPITAL.—CHARITIES CONNECTED WITH IT.—ALMSGIVING IN BRAZIL.—INSANE ASYLUM.—MILITARY SCHOOL.—THE MINT.—ACADEMY OF FINE ARTS.—HEROISM OF A NEGRO.—PRIMARY SCHOOL FOR GIRLS.—NEGLECTED EDUCATION OF WOMEN IN BRAZIL.—BLIND ASYLUM.—LECTURES.—CHARACTER OF THE BRAZILIAN AUDIENCE.—ORGAN MOUNTAINS.—WALK UP THE SERRA.—THERESOPOLIS.—VISIT TO THE “ST. LOUIS” FAZENDA.—CLIMATE OF THERESOPOLIS.—DESCENT OF THE SERRA.—GEOLOGY OF THE ORGAN MOUNTAINS.—THE LAST WORD.

_May 29th._—We arrived in Rio more than a month ago, having left Ceará on the 16th of April. There was nothing worth recording in our voyage down the coast, except that at Pernambuco we found the country even more overflowed by the recent rains than it had been at Ceará. Going to breakfast with our friends, Mr. and Mrs. R——, only four or five miles from the city, we passed through portions of the road where the water was nearly level with the floor of the carriage; and temporary ferries were established by negroes, who were plying rafts and canoes between the shores for the benefit of foot-passengers. A mile or two beyond Mr. R——’s house we were told that the road, though one of the most frequented in the neighborhood of the city, had become quite impassable. We saw many overflowed gardens and houses abandoned because the water was already above the windows of the ground-floor.

We had a warm welcome back to the beautiful bay of Rio, on board the “Susquehanna,” just then in the harbor. Captain Taylor sent his boat at once to our steamer, and we were soon on his deck, received so cordially by him and his officers, and by a party of American friends who were making a visit to his ship, that it seemed like an anticipation of our arrival at home. There is nothing so pleasant as an unexpected meeting with one’s own fellow-citizens on coming into a foreign port, and this was a delightful surprise to us.

We are again in our old quarters in the Rua Direita, and, except that our fellow-travellers are all scattered, it would seem as if we had stepped back a year. Since our return, Mr. Agassiz has been arranging and despatching to the United States the numerous specimens which have been sent in during our absence. Among them is the large and very complete collection made for him by the Emperor last summer, when in command of the army at the South. It contains fishes from several of the southern fresh-water basins, and includes a great number of new species. Taken in connection with the Amazonian collections and those from the interior, it affords material for an extensive comparison of the faunæ of the southern and northern fresh-waters in Brazil.

Our excursions since our return have been only in the neighborhood of the city to Petropolis and the Dom Pedro Railroad. We are surprised, on returning to this road while our Amazonian impressions are fresh in our minds, to find that the vegetation, the richness of which amazed us when we first arrived in Brazil, looks almost meagre in comparison to that with which we have since been familiar. It is dwarfed, to our eye, by the still more luxuriant growth of the north.

Yesterday was Mr. Agassiz’s birthday, again made very bright to us by the cordial testimony of kind feeling and sympathy from his friends and country people. In the evening we were pleasantly surprised by a torchlight procession in his honor, formed by the German and Swiss residents of Rio de Janeiro. The festivities concluded with a serenade under our windows by the German club.

_June 4th._—When we were in Rio de Janeiro last year, Mr. Agassiz was so much occupied with the plans of the expedition that he was unable to visit the schools of the city, its charitable institutions, and the like. Being unwilling to leave Brazil without knowing something of the public works in its largest capital, we are now engaged in “sight-seeing.” This morning we visited the Misericordia Hospital. Perhaps it will give a better idea of this institution, and of the influences under which it at present exists, to speak of it first as it was formerly. Nearly forty years ago there was in Rio de Janeiro a hospital called “De la Misericordia.” Its wards were low, its entries were confined and close, its staircases steep and narrow. According to the accounts of physicians who were medical students there in those days, its internal organization was as sordid as its general aspect. The floors were wet and dirty, the beds wretched, the linen soiled; and the absence of a system of ventilation made itself the more felt on account of the want of general cleanliness. The corpses awaited burial in a room where the rats held high festival; and a physician, who has since occupied a distinguished position in Rio de Janeiro, told us that when, as a student, he went to seek there the materials for his anatomical studies, he often found life stirring in this chamber of the dead, and startled away these unseemly visitors. Such, in brief, was the Misericordia Hospital at the time when Brazil secured her independence. Let us see what it is now. On the same spot, though occupying a much larger space, stands the present hospital. When completed, it will consist of three parallel buildings, long in proportion to their breadth, connected by cross corridors enclosing courts between them. The central edifice, intended for male patients, has been long in use. The front building, looking on the bay, is nearly completed, and is to be devoted to the stores, to accommodations for hospital physicians, nurses, &c. The rear building, not yet begun, will be for the use of women and children, who now occupy the old hospital. Let us look first at the central division. We enter a spacious hall tiled with marble. A smaller hall, leading out of it, connects with one or two reception-rooms, where visitors are received, and medicines given out gratis to poor applicants. A broad staircase of dark wood brings us to the wide corridors, on which the wards open, and which look out upon green gardens enclosed between the buildings, where convalescents may be seen strolling about, or resting in the shade. At the first ward we are received by a Sister of Charity, who, in the absence of the Superior, is to show us the establishment. A description of one ward will answer for all, since they are identical. It is a long, lofty room, the beds in rows on either side, facing outward, and having a broad, open space down the centre. The beds are arranged two and two in pairs, each pair being divided by a door or window. Between every two beds is a little niche in the wall, with a shelf to draw out underneath. In the niche are one or two pitchers or goblets holding the patient’s drink; on the shelf is his mug, ready to his hand. To a height of some six or eight feet the wall is wainscoted with blue-and-white porcelain tiles. They are easily washed, do not contract dampness, and look very cool and fresh. The floor is made of the dark Brazilian wood, partly inlaid, and waxed carefully; not a stain is to be seen anywhere on its shining surface. The bedding consists of a well-stuffed straw-mattress below, with a thick hair-mattress above. The sheets and pillow-cases are spotless. Indeed, everything in this fresh, well-aired, spacious room bespeaks an exquisite order and neatness. The bath-rooms are in convenient relation to the wards, furnished with large marble bath-tubs, and with hot and cold water in abundance. From the public wards we pass into large corridors, upon which open private apartments for the use of persons who, not having convenient arrangements at home, or being strangers in the city, prefer, in case of illness, to go to the hospital. The rent of these chambers is exceedingly moderate;—for a room to one’s self, $1.50 a day; for a room shared with one other person, $1 a day; for a bed in a larger room occupied by half a dozen, but withdrawn from the general throng, 75 cents. These charges include medical attendance, nursing, and food. From the wards devoted to ordinary diseases, fevers and the like, we went to the surgical wards. It need not be said that here the same neatness and care prevailed; the operating rooms, the surgery lined with cases containing instruments, lint, bandages, &c. were all in faultless order.

From this building—looking, as we went, into the kitchen, where the contents of the great shiny copper kettles smelt very invitingly—we passed through a paved court to the old hospital, in which are the wards for women and children. This gave us an opportunity of comparing, at least in its general arrangement, the ancient establishment with the modern one. The neatness and order prevailing throughout make even this part of the hospital attractive and cheerful; but one feels at once the difference between the high, airy rooms and open corridors of the new building and the more confined quarters of the old one. In both parts of the hospital the mingling of color impresses the stranger. Blacks and whites lie side by side, and the proportion of negroes is considerable, both among the men and women.

The charity of the Misericordia is a very comprehensive one; it includes not only maladies susceptible of cure, but has also its ward for old and infirm persons, who will never leave it except for their last home. The day before our visit a very aged woman had been buried thence, who had lived under this roof for seventeen years. There is also a provision for children whose parents die in the hospital, and who have no natural protector. They remain there, receive an elementary education, being taught to read, write, and cipher; and are not turned into the world until they are of age to marry or to enter into service. There is a chapel connected with the hospital, and many of the wards are furnished with an altar at one end, above which is placed a statue of the Virgin, a crucifix, or a picture of some saint. I could not help asking myself if regular religious services would not be a wise addition to all charitable institutions of this kind, whether Protestant or Catholic. To the respectable poor, their church is a great deal. Many a convalescent would be glad to hear the Sunday hymn, to join in the prayer put up for his recovery; and would think himself the better, body and soul, because he had listened to a sermon. To be sure, in our country, where creeds are so various, and almost every patient might have his own doctrinal speciality, there might be some difficulties which do not exist where there is a state religion, and one form of service is sure to suit all. Still, many would be comforted and consoled, and would come without asking whether the clergyman were of this or that denomination, if they felt him to be genuine and truly devout.

I have presented the old hospital and the present one in direct contrast, because the comparison gives a measure of the progress which, in some directions at least, has taken place during the last thirty or forty years in Rio de Janeiro. It is true, that all their institutions have not advanced in proportion to their benevolent establishments; charity, like hospitality, may be said to be a national virtue among the Brazilians. They hold almsgiving a religious duty, and are more liberal to their churches and to the public charities connected with them than to their institutions of learning. Unhappily, a great deal of their liberality of this kind is expended upon church festas, street processions, saint days, and the like, more calculated to feed superstition than to stimulate pure religious sentiment.

We should not leave the Misericordia without some allusion to the man to whom it chiefly owes its present character. José Clemente Pereira would have been gratefully remembered by the Brazilians as a statesman of distinguished merit, who was intimately associated with more than one of the most important events in their history, even had he no other claim on their esteem. He was born in Portugal, and distinguished himself as a young man in the Peninsular war. Though he was already twenty-eight years of age when he left Europe, he seems to have been as true a lover of Brazil as if born on her soil. His merit was soon recognized in his adopted country, and he occupied, at different times, some of the highest offices of the realm. The early part of his political career fell upon the stormy times when Brazil was struggling for her national existence as an independent Empire; but during the more tranquil close of his life he seems to have been chiefly occupied in works of benevolence, in founding charitable institutions, and even in personal attendance upon the sick and suffering.

The name of this benevolent Brazilian is associated not only with the Misericordia hospital, but also with the admirable asylum for the insane at Botafogo, which bears the name of the present Emperor. A great part of the funds for this establishment were obtained in an original way, which shows that Pereira knew how to turn the weaknesses of his countrymen to good account. The Brazilians are addicted to titles, and the government offered distinctions of this kind to wealthy citizens who would endow the insane asylum. They were to be either commendadores or barons, the importance of the title being in proportion to the magnitude of their donations. Large sums were actually obtained in this way, and several of the titled men of Rio thus purchased their patents of nobility. When I first arrived in Rio de Janeiro, mere chance led me to visit this asylum. Entering as a stranger, I saw only the outer rooms, listened to the evening service in the chapel for a few moments, and was struck with the order and quiet which seemed to prevail. It certainly never would have occurred to me that I was in an insane hospital. To-day Mr. Agassiz and myself, accompanied by our friend Dr. Pacheco da Silva, passed several hours there, and saw the whole establishment in detail. The building faces upon Botafogo Bay, having the beach immediately before it; on its right the picturesque gap, one side of which is made by the Paō de Assucar, and on its left the beautiful valley running up toward Corcovado. Thus, looking on the sea and surrounded by mountains, it commands exquisite views on every side. The plan of the building, in its general arrangement, is not unlike that of the Misericordia. It is a handsome solid stone structure, rather long in proportion to its height, and consists of two parallel buildings, connected by cross corridors. These corridors enclose courts, planted with trees and flowers, and making very pleasant gardens. The entrance hall is in the centre, and has on either side the statues of Pinel and Esquirol, the two French masters in the treatment of mental diseases. The statues have no merit as works of art; but it was pleasant to see them there, as showing a recognition of what these men have done for science and for humanity. A broad, low staircase of dark wood leads up to the chapel. Here we looked with interest at the ornaments on the altar, because they are the work of the patients, who take great pleasure in making artificial flowers and other decorations for the church. On the same floor with the chapel is a large hall, where stands the statue of the youthful Emperor Dom Pedro Segundo. Opposite to it is that of Pereira. It is worthy of note that this statue was presented by the Emperor, and at his request placed opposite his own. The face, quite in keeping with the history of the man, is expressive both of great benevolence and remarkable decision. Connected with this hall are several reception-halls, parlors, and antechambers; indeed, too much room is assigned to mere state apartments in an establishment where space must be precious. One of this suite of rooms was devoted to the various fancy-work made by the patients,—embroidery of all sorts, artificial flowers and the like. Thence we passed to the wards. As in the Misericordia, the rooms are very large and high, wainscoted with tiles, and opening upon wide corridors, which look out into the enclosed gardens. Some of the dormitories have fifteen or twenty beds, but many of the sleeping-rooms are smaller, it being better, no doubt, to separate the patients at night. We saw but little indication of suffering or distress among them. There were one or two cases of religious melancholy, with the look of fixed, absorbed sadness characteristic of that form of insanity. We were met once or twice by the vacant stare, and heard the senseless chatter and laugh always to be found in these saddest of all asylums for human suffering. But, on the whole, an air of cheerfulness prevailed; with few exceptions all the patients were occupied, the women with plain sewing or embroidery, the men with carpentering, shoemaking, or tailoring, making cigars for the use of the establishment, or picking over old cordage. The Superior told us that occupation was found to be the most efficient remedy, and that though work was not compulsory, with few exceptions all the patients preferred to share in it. The whole service of the house—washing, sweeping, waxing the floors, cleaning the chambers and putting them in order—is performed by them. Sunday is found to be the most difficult day, because much of the ordinary occupation is suspended, and the patients become unruly in proportion as they are unemployed. From these apartments, where all were busy and comparatively quiet, we passed to a corridor enclosing a large court, where some of the lunatics, too restless for employment, were walking about, gesticulating and talking loudly. The corridor was lined on its inner side with chambers devoted to the use of those whose violence made it necessary to confine them. The doors and windows were grated, the rooms empty of furniture, but well lighted, spacious, and airy; not at all like cells, except in being so strongly secured. They were mostly without occupants; but as we passed one of them a man rushed to the door, and called out to us that he was not a prisoner because he was mad, but that he had killed Lopez, and was now the rightful Emperor of Brazil. This corridor led us to the bath-rooms, which are really on a magnificent scale. A number of immense marble tubs are sunk in the tiled floors. They are of different depths, adapted for standing, sitting, or lying down, and have every variety of arrangement for douche, shower, or sponge baths.

This hospital, like the Misericordia, is under the care of the Sisters of Charity, and is a model of neatness and order. The Superior has a face remarkable for its serenity, expressive at once of sweetness and good sense. From her we learned some interesting facts respecting insanity in this country. She says furious maniacs are rare, and that violence generally yields readily to treatment. She also told us that insanity is more common among the poor than among the better classes. Though the asylum contains apartments for private patients, there are seldom more than eight or ten persons of this description to occupy them. This is not because they have any choice of establishments, for there is no other insane hospital in Rio de Janeiro, though there are one or two “Maisons de Santé” where insane persons are received. There were more blacks among the patients than we had expected to see, the general impression being that insanity is rare among the negroes. We left this hospital impressed by its superiority. A country which has so high a standard of excellence in its charities can hardly fail, sooner or later, to bring its institutions of learning and its public works generally up to the same level. Excellence in one department leads to excellence in all.

From the hospital we continued our walk to the military school, some quarter of a mile farther. It stands in the gap between the Paō de Assucar and the opposite range of hills, and has the Botafogo Bay on one side, the Praia Vermelha on the other. Here, as elsewhere in the public schools of Rio de Janeiro, there is a progressive movement; but old and theoretical methods still prevail to a great degree. The maps are poor; there are no bas-reliefs, no large globes, few dissections or chemical analyses, no philosophical experiments, and no library deserving the name. The school, however, has been in efficient operation only six years, and improvements in the building, as well as in the apparatus for instruction, are made daily. So far as its domestic economy is concerned, the appointments of the establishment are excellent; indeed, one is rather inclined to criticise it as over-luxurious for boys educated to be soldiers. The school-rooms and dormitories, as well as the dining-room, where the tables were laid with a nice service of crockery and glass, and also the kitchens, were clean and orderly. We cannot but wonder that the streets of Rio de Janeiro should be dirtier and more offensive than those of any other city we have visited, when we see the scrupulous neatness characteristic of all its public establishments. The observance of cleanliness in this respect shows that the Brazilians recognize its importance, and it seems strange that they should tolerate nuisances in their streets which make it almost impossible to pass through many of them on foot.

_June 7th._—Yesterday we visited the Mint, the Academy of Fine Arts, and a primary school for girls. Of the Mint it is scarcely fair to judge in its present condition; a new building is nearly completed, and all improvements in machinery are wisely deferred until the establishment is removed. When this change takes place, much that is antiquated will be improved, and its many deficiencies supplied.

There is little knowledge of, or interest in, art in Brazil. Pictures are as rare as books in a Brazilian house; and though Rio de Janeiro has an Academy of Fine Arts, including a school of design and sculpture, it is still in too elementary a condition to warrant criticism. The only interesting picture in the collection derives its attraction wholly from the circumstances connected with it, not at all from any merit in the execution. It is a likeness of a negro who, in a shipwreck off the coast, saved a number of lives at the risk of his own. When he had brought several passengers to the shore, he was told that two children remained in the ship. He swam back once more and brought them safely to the beach, but sank down himself exhausted, and was seized with hemorrhage. A considerable sum was raised for him in the city of Rio, and his picture was placed in the Academy to commemorate his heroism.

Of the public school for girls not much can be said. The education of women is little regarded in Brazil, and the standard of instruction for girls in the public schools is low. Even in the private schools, where the children of the better class are sent, it is the complaint of all teachers that they are taken away from school just at the time when their minds begin to develop. The majority of girls in Brazil who go to school at all are sent at about seven or eight years of age, and are considered to have finished their education at thirteen or fourteen. The next step in their life is marriage. Of course there are exceptions; some parents wisely leave their children at school, or direct their instruction at home, till they are seventeen or eighteen years of age, and others send their girls abroad. But usually, with the exception of one or two accomplishments, such as French or music, the education of women is neglected, and this neglect affects the whole tone of society. It does not change the general truth of this statement, that there are Brazilian ladies who would be recognized in the best society as women of the highest intelligence and culture. But they are the exceptions, as they inevitably must be under the present system of instruction, and they feel its influence upon their social position only the more bitterly.

Indeed, many of the women I have known most intimately here have spoken to me with deep regret of their limited, imprisoned existence. There is not a Brazilian senhora, who has ever thought about the subject at all, who is not aware that her life is one of repression and constraint. She cannot go out of her house, except under certain conditions, without awakening scandal. Her education leaves her wholly ignorant of the most common topics of a wider interest, though perhaps with a tolerable knowledge of French and music. The world of books is closed to her; for there is little Portuguese literature into which she is allowed to look, and that of other languages is still less at her command. She knows little of the history of her own country, almost nothing of that of others, and she is hardly aware that there is any religious faith except the uniform one of Brazil; she has probably never heard of the Reformation, nor does she dream that there is a sea of thought surging in the world outside, constantly developing new phases of national and individual life; indeed, of all but her own narrow domestic existence she is profoundly ignorant.

On one occasion, when staying at a fazenda, I took up a volume which was lying on the piano. A book is such a rare sight, in the rooms occupied by the family, that I was curious to see its contents. As I stood turning over the leaves (it proved to be a romance), the master of the house came up, and remarked that the book was not suitable reading for ladies, but that here (putting into my hand a small volume) was a work adapted to the use of women and children, which he had provided for the senhoras of his family. I opened it, and found it to be a sort of textbook of morals, filled with commonplace sentiments, copybook phrases, written in a tone of condescending indulgence for the feminine intellect. Women being, after all, the mothers of men, and understood to have some little influence on their education, I could hardly wonder, after seeing this specimen of their intellectual food, that the wife and daughters of our host were not greatly addicted to reading. Nothing strikes a stranger more than the absence of books in Brazilian houses. If the father is a professional man, he has his small library of medicine or law, but books are never seen scattered about as if in common use; they make no part of the daily life. I repeat, that there are exceptions. I well remember finding in the sitting-room of a young girl, by whose family we had been most cordially received, a well-selected library of the best literary and historical works in German and French; but this is the only instance of the kind we met with during our year in Brazil. Even when the Brazilian women have received the ordinary advantages of education, there is something in their home-life so restricted, so shut out from natural contact with external influences, that this in itself tends to cripple their development. Their amusements are as meagre and scanty as their means of instruction.

In writing these things I but echo the thought of many intelligent Brazilians, who lament a social evil which they do not well know how to reform. If among our Brazilian friends there are some who, familiar with the more progressive aspect of life in Rio de Janeiro, question the accuracy of my statements, I can only say that they do not know the condition of society in the northern cities and provinces. Among my own sex, I have never seen such sad lives as became known to me there,—lives deprived of healthy, invigorating happiness, and intolerably monotonous,—a negative suffering, having its source, it is true, in the absence of enjoyment rather than in the presence of positive evils, but all the more to be deplored because so stagnant and inactive.

Behind all defects in methods of instruction, there lies a fault of domestic education, to be lamented throughout Brazil. This is the constant association with black servants, and, worse still, with negro children, of whom there are usually a number in every house. Whether the low and vicious habits of the negroes are the result of slavery or not, they cannot be denied; and it is singular to see persons, otherwise careful and conscientious about their children, allowing them to live in the constant companionship of their blacks, waited upon by the older ones, playing all day with the younger ones. It shows how blind we may become, by custom, to the most palpable dangers. A stranger observes at once the evil results of this contact with vulgarity and vice, though often unnoticed by the parents. In the capital, some of these evils are fast disappearing; indeed, those who remember Rio de Janeiro forty years ago have witnessed, during that short period, a remarkable change for the better in the state of society. Nor should it be forgotten that the highest authority in the community is exerted in the cause of a liberal culture for women. It is well known that the education of the Imperial princesses has been not only superintended, but in a great measure personally conducted, by their father.

_July 8th._—I was prevented yesterday from going to the Blind Asylum with Mr. Agassiz, but I transcribe his notes upon this, as well as upon the Marine Arsenal, which he also visited without me.

“The building is old and in a ruinous condition. I was not allowed to go over it, everything being brought to the reception-room for my inspection, though I told the director that I did not care about the external arrangements, but simply wished to know by what means the privations of the blind were alleviated in his establishment. The same processes of routine prevail here as in other schools and colleges I have seen in Rio. This, however, is not peculiar to Portuguese or Brazilian habits of instruction. The old habit of overrating memory, and neglecting the more active and productive faculties of the mind, still prevails more or less in education everywhere. I learned little of the general system pursued. The teachers were more anxious to show off the ability of special pupils in reading, writing from dictation, and music, than to explain their methods of instruction. Vocal and instrumental music seemed the favorite occupation; but though it is very pathetic to hear the blind deplore their misfortune and express their craving for light in harmonious sounds, it does not, after all, give much information as to the way in which their calamity is relieved. I should add, that their musical performance is excellent, and does great credit to their German professor. It struck me that very little use was made of object-teaching, such as is so much in vogue for children in Germany. There are not as many models in the whole establishment as would be found in any nursery in certain parts of Germany. The maps also are very poor.

“One of the most interesting of the public establishments at Rio de Janeiro is the Marine Arsenal. From the Gulf of Mexico to Cape Horn there is not to be found on the Atlantic coast another port where a vessel of war, or even a merchant vessel of large tonnage, could undergo important repairs. The machine-shops and saw-mills are well directed, and are deficient in none of the improvements belonging to modern establishments of the kind. The dock is large and constructed of granite. A considerable number of large vessels have been built at this shipyard during the last few years, and all its appointments have been constantly improving under the direction of several successive ministers of the navy. Such an establishment is, in fact, a necessity for Brazil; possessing as she does eleven hundred leagues of coast, it is impossible for her to depend upon other countries for her maritime supplies. The Marine Arsenal sends out from its school and shipyard many able engineers and clever artisans, who carry into ordinary branches of industry the ability they have acquired in the public service. Indeed, this establishment may be considered as a sort of school of industrial arts, furnishing the country with good workmen in various departments of labor.”

This week Mr. Agassiz has concluded another course of six lectures given at the College of Dom Pedro II.; the subject, “The Formation of the Amazonian Valley, and its Productions.” It is worthy of remark, that the appearance of ladies on such occasions no longer excites comment. There were many more senhoras among the listeners than at the previous lectures, when their presence was a novelty. A Brazilian audience is very sympathetic; in this they resemble a European assembly more than our own quiet, undemonstrative crowds. There is always a little stir, a responsive thrill, when anything pleases them, and often a spoken word of commendation or criticism.

_June 10th._—Theresopolis. Yesterday, accompanied by Mr. Glaziou, Director of the Passeio Publico, and Dr. Nägeli, we started on an excursion to the Organ Mountains, leaving Rio in the boat for Piedade, and stopping on our way at the little island of Paquetá. This is one of the prettiest islands of the harbor, abounding in palms, populous with pleasant country-houses, and having a very picturesque shore, broken into bays and inlets. We reached the little cluster of houses called Piedade about five o’clock, and took the omnibus to the foot of the serra. The hours of public conveyance on this road seem ingeniously arranged to prevent the traveller from seeing its beauties. The greater part of the four hours’ drive is made after nightfall; and the return offers no compensation, the second journey taking place before daybreak. We passed the night at the foot of the serra, and started at seven o’clock the next morning to walk up the mountain. It is impossible to describe the beauty of this walk, especially on such a day as we were favored with, varying between sunshine and shade, and with a fresh breeze which saved us any discomfort from the heat. The road winds gently up the serra, turning sometimes with so sharp an angle that below we could see all the ground we had travelled over. On one hand is the mountain-side, clothed with a vegetation of surpassing beauty, bright with crimson parasites, with the rich purple flowers of the Quaresma and the delicate blue blossoms of the Utricularia, as fragile and as graceful as the harebell. On the other hand, we looked down sometimes into narrow gorges, clothed with magnificent forest, from which huge masses of rock projected here and there; sometimes into wider valleys opening out into the plain below, and giving a distant view of the harbor and its archipelago of islands surrounded by mountains, the whole scene glittering in the sunshine, or veiled by shadows, as the fitful day showed it to us.

The ascent may be easily accomplished on foot in three or four hours. We had nothing to urge us forward, however, except a growing desire for breakfast, appeased every now and then by an orange, of which we had a good supply in the tin case for plants, and many a slow train of laden mules passed us in their upward march, and left us far behind as we loitered along, though not lazily. On the contrary, Mr. Agassiz and his friends found plenty of occupation in botanizing and geologizing. They stopped constantly to gather parasites, to study ferns and mosses, to break boulders, to collect insects and the little land-shells found here and there along the road. We saw one most beautiful insect, hardly larger than a lady-bug, but of the most exquisite colors and gleaming like a jewel on the leaf where it had alighted. In breaking the stones along the roadside Mr. Agassiz found many evidences of erratics, several of them being Diorite, entirely distinct from the rock in place. The surfaces of the boulders were universally decomposed and covered with a uniform crust, so that it was necessary to split them in order to ascertain their true nature. From distance to distance along the road were immense fragments of rock, sometimes twenty or thirty feet in height. These huge masses were frequently seen hanging on the brink of steep declivities, as if, having broken off from the heights above, and rolled down, they had been prevented from advancing farther by some obstacle, and had become gradually embedded in the soil. Many of these boulders were clothed in soft, thick reindeer moss, so like the reindeer moss of the Arctics that, if specifically distinct, the difference could not be detected except by the most careful examination. It suggests the question whether there are any representatives of the tropical flora among the lichens and pines of the high north. As we advanced, the character of the vegetation changed considerably, and we began to feel, by the increasing freshness of the air, that we were getting into higher regions. The near view became more beautiful as we approached the heart of the mountains, coming under the shadow of their strange peaks, which looked sharp and attenuated from a distance, but changed into wonderful masses of bare rock, very grand in their effect, as we drew closer to them. We reached the hotel at Theresopolis at about two o’clock. After our long walk, the answer we received to our inquiry about breakfast at the little grocery adjoining the inn was rather discouraging. What could they give us on short notice? “Only four eggs and some sausage.” However, the master of the hotel made his appearance, opened his house, where, to judge from its closed doors and windows, the advent of guests is rare, and comforted us with the information that breakfast “pode se arranjar.” Indeed, from the dish of eggs which made its appearance soon afterwards, we might have supposed that all the hens in the village had been called upon to contribute, and we enjoyed a breakfast for which mountain air and exercise had supplied the best sauce.

The village of Theresopolis is very prettily situated, lying in a dip between the mountains and commanding a magnificent view of the peaks, one of which stands out like a tall, narrow tower against the sky. Near it is another sharp summit, on the extreme point of which a large boulder is placed. It looks as if a touch would dislodge it; and yet for how many a long year has it held its place there through storm and sunshine! We looked up at this huge fragment of rock on its dizzy height, and wondered whether it was erratic, or simply an effect of decomposition on the spot,—a point impossible of decision at that distance. If the latter, it seems strange that the weather should have worn and excavated such a mass underneath, without destroying its upper surface, thus detaching it from the mountain, till it stands, as now, in bold relief, only supported by a single point of attachment on the extreme summit. We spent the rest of the day in a walk to a very pretty cascade which comes rushing down through the wood a mile or two from the village.

_June 11th._—We left the inn at half past seven this morning, to pass the day again in rambling. Following the main road for a quarter of a mile or so beyond the village, we presently turned to the left into a narrow, shady pathway. It led us through the woods to the edge of a deep basin sunk between the mountains, on the slopes of which were strewn many immense boulders. A curious feature of the Organ Mountains which we have observed repeatedly even in this short excursion is, that between their strangely fantastic forms the country sinks down into well-defined basins, which usually have no outlet. Following the brink of such a basin for a couple of miles, and crossing an intervening ridge, we came out upon a kind of plateau overhanging another depression of the same character, and commanding a magnificent view of the chain, in the very centre of which it seems to be, for the mountains rise tier upon tier around it on every side. On this plateau stands the fazenda called St. Louis, belonging to Mr. d’Escragnolle. The exquisite beauty of the site and the hospitality of its owner have made this fazenda a favorite resort for travellers. The grounds are laid out with much taste, and Mr. d’Escragnolle’s success in raising many of the European fruits and vegetables, as well as those of his own country, makes it the more to be regretted that this beautiful region should be so little cultivated. Pears, peaches, strawberries, thrive admirably, as also do green peas, asparagus, artichokes, and cauliflowers. The climate strikes a happy medium between the heat in the neighborhood of Rio de Janeiro, which brings these products to too rapid a development, drying them up before they have time to mature, and the sharp cold of higher mountain regions. But though at so short a distance from the capital, the transport is so difficult and expensive that Mr. d’Escragnolle, instead of sending the produce of his farm to the city market, as he would gladly do, feeds his pigs with cauliflowers. We passed the rest of the day most delightfully in this charming country place. Mr. Agassiz and Mr. Glaziou ascended one of the near mountain summits, but did not gain so extensive a view as they had hoped, on account of an intervening spur. They were able to distinguish three parallel ridges, however, separated by intervening depressions. Toward evening, while the mountains were still bright with the purple glory of the sunset, though shadows were settling over the valleys, we started on our return, bidding good by with great regret to our kind host, who warmly pressed us to stay. The path we had followed in the morning, without giving a thought to its irregularities, seemed quite broken and difficult by night. The slopes along which it ran were changed, in the dim light, to sudden precipices, and we picked our steps with care between rocks and over fallen logs and rivulets. It was bright starlight as we came out of the woods upon the high road. The village lay below, its lights twinkling cheerily, and the peaks and towers behind it drawn with strange distinctness against the night sky.

_June 12th._—Barreira. This morning at seven o’clock we were on our way down the serra. Mr. Agassiz deplores the necessity which obliges him to leave this region after so short an examination of its striking features. A naturalist might pass months here, and find every day rich in results. As we left the hotel the sun was just gilding the highest summits, while white clouds rose softly from the valleys, and, floating upward, broke into fleecy fragments against the mountain-sides. Having the day before us, we descended as slowly as we had mounted the serra, stopping almost at every step to gather plants, to examine rocks, to wonder at the strange position of the immense boulders hanging often just on the brow of some steep declivity. I wandered on beyond the others and sat down to wait for them on the low stone wall, forming a parapet on the edge of the road. Directly before me rose the bare, rocky surface of one of the great peaks; a vapory white cloud hung midway upon it; shadows floated over it. On the other side I looked down upon wooded valleys and mountains in strange confusion, while far below, stretching out to the sea, lay the billowy plain tossed into endless soft green waves. The stillness made the scene more impressive, the silence being only occasionally broken by the click of hoofs, as a train of mules came cautiously down the flagged road. While I sat there a liteira passed me slung between mules; a mode of travelling fast disappearing with the improvements of the roads, but still in use for women and children in certain parts of the country. We stopped to breakfast at a little venda about half-way down the serra; here the boulders are most remarkable from their great size and singular position. We reached the inn at the bottom of the serra between two and three o’clock, and are now sitting in the little piazza, while a drenching rain, which fortunately did not begin till we were under shelter, swells the stream near by, and is fast changing it to a rapid torrent. I will add here such observations respecting the geological structure of this mountain range as Mr. Agassiz has been able to make in our short excursion.

“The chain is formed by the sharp folding up of strata, sometimes quite vertically, in other instances with a slope more or less steep, but always rather sudden. To one standing on the hill to the east of Theresopolis, the whole range presents itself in a perfect profile; the axis, on either side of which dip the almost vertical beds of metamorphic rocks composing the chain, occupies about the centre of the range. To the north, though very steeply inclined, the beds are not so vertical as in the southern prolongation of the range. The consequence of this difference is the formation of more massive and less disconnected summits on the north side; while on the south side, where the strata are nearly or quite vertical, the harder sets of beds alone have remained standing, the softer intervening beds having been gradually disintegrated. By this process have been formed those strange peaks which appear from a distance like a row of organ-pipes, and have suggested the name by which the chain is known. They consist of vertical beds isolated from the general mass in consequence of the disappearance of contiguous strata. The aspect of these mountains from Rio is much the same as from Theresopolis, only that from the two points of view—one being to the northeast, the other to the southwest of the range—their summits present themselves in the reverse order. When seen in complete profile their slender appearance is most striking. Viewed from the side, the broad surfaces of the strata, though equally steep, exhibit a triangular form rather than that of vertical columns. It is strange that the height of the Organ Mountain peaks, so conspicuous a feature in the landscape of Rio de Janeiro, should not have been accurately measured. The only precise indication I have been able to find is recorded by Liais, who gives 7,000 feet as the maximum height observed by him.

“These abrupt peaks frequently surround closed basins, very symmetrical in shape, but without any outlet. On account of this singular formation, the glacial phenomena which abound in the Organ Mountains are of a peculiar character. At first, I was at a loss to explain how loose masses of rock, descending from the heights above, should be caught on the edges of these basins, instead of rolling to the bottom. But their position becomes quite natural when we remember that the ice must have remained in these depressions long after it had disappeared, or nearly disappeared, from the slopes above. Hindered from advancing, these huge masses of rock have become gradually embedded in the soil, and are now solidly fixed in positions which would be perfectly inexplicable, unless we suppose the basin to have been formerly filled with something which offered an obstacle to their farther descent. Moraines also abut upon these depressions, coming to an abrupt close upon their margin. Morainic soil—that is, masses of drift with all sorts of loose materials buried in it—abounds everywhere in this region; but, on the whole, the glacial phenomena are difficult to study, because the heavy growth of forest has covered all inequalities of the soil, and, except where sections have been made or ground has been cleared, the outlines are lost.”

This was our final excursion in Brazil. The next morning we returned to the city; and the few remaining days were spent in preparations for departure, and in bidding farewell to the friends who had made Rio de Janeiro almost like a home to us. Among the pleasant incidents of this last week, was a breakfast given by Mr. Ledgerwood, who was then conducting the business of the American legation in the temporary absence of our Minister, General Webb. This occasion, at which Mr. Agassiz was invited to meet several members of the Brazilian administration, gave him an opportunity of expressing his sense of their uniform kindness and consideration in furthering to the utmost the scientific objects which had brought him to Brazil. On the following day (the 2d of July), we sailed for the United States, carrying with us to our northern home a store of pleasant memories and vivid pictures to enrich our life hereafter with tropical warmth and color.