Voyage from Buenos Ayres to Santos—Tropical vegetation in Brazil—Visit to San Paulo—Journey from San Paulo to Rio Janeiro—Valley of the Parahyba do Sul—Ancient mountains of Brazil—Rio Janeiro—Visit to Petropolis—Falls of Itamariti—Struggle for existence in a tropical forest—The hermit of Petropolis—Morning view over the Bay of Rio—A gorgeous flowering shrub—Visit to Tijuca—Yellow fever in Brazil—A giant of the forest—Voyage to Bahia and Pernambuco—Equatorial rains—Fernando Noronha—St. Vincent in the Cape de Verde Islands—Trade winds of the North Atlantic—Lisbon—Return to England.

EMBARCATION AT BUENOS AYRES.

About midday on June 30, I took my departure from Buenos Ayres. The operation was not altogether simple or to be quickly accomplished. Jolting heavily over the ill-paved streets, a hackney coach carried me and a fellow-traveller with our luggage to the riverbank. The sight was very strange. It was a busy day, and there were literally hundreds of high-wheeled carts engaged in carrying passengers and goods out to the boats, which lay fully half a mile from the shore. When, after a delay that seemed excessive, we were installed in a boat, this was pulled in a leisurely fashion to the steam-tender, which lay more than a mile farther out. When the hour fixed for the304 departure of the tender was long past, we at length got under way, and finally reached the Neva steamship of the Royal Mail Company, about fourteen miles below the city, at five o’clock.

With iron punctuality dinner was served at the regular hour, although none of the passengers were ready, and the luggage was not brought on board till after dinner. There was, in truth, no reason for haste, as we were appointed to call at Monte Video on the following morning. My chief business at that place was to recover possession of the chest containing my botanical collections, which I had deposited at the custom-house.

Impressed with the attractions of Brazil, and feeling the strict limits of time to which I was bound, I asked myself if I should not have done better to have omitted a visit to the Plata region, and saved nine days by proceeding direct to Brazil in the Iberia, which started on the 22nd of June. I should certainly recommend that course to any naturalist travelling under similar circumstances at the same season; but I am sure that, if I had done so, I should have felt regret at having missed an opportunity, and should have fancied that I had lost new and interesting experiences.

At four p.m. on the 1st of July the big ship began to move from her moorings opposite Monte Video, and for about sixty miles kept a due easterly course. Somewhere near the port of Maldonado we passed a bright light on an island which shows as a bold headland. I was told that this is known as Cape Frio, because of the cold often encountered here by those arriving from Brazil. It may be supposed that the305 force of the south-west wind which prevails in winter is more felt as the wide opening of the great estuary is reached. During my own short stay, the wind never rose beyond a gentle breeze, and the temperature on land was no more than agreeably cool, usually between 55° and 60° Fahr. during the day.
VOYAGE TO SANTOS.

The distance from Monte Video to Santos, which is reckoned at 970 sea miles, was accomplished in about three days and eighteen hours. The voyage was uneventful. On the 3rd we approached the Brazilian coast, but the land lay low, and no objects could be distinguished. The weather was all that could be desired by the most delicate passengers, the barometer remaining almost stationary at about 30·2 inches,42 and the temperature by day rising gradually from 57° at Monte Video to 62° in lat. 25° south. Before sunrise on the morning of July 5, we entered the bay through which the Santos river discharges itself into the Atlantic, and found ourselves in a new region. The richness of the green and the luxuriance of the foliage recalled the aspect of the coast at Jacmel, in Hayti, and as the morning advanced, while we slowly steamed towards the head of the bay, I had no difficulty in deciding on a course which had already suggested itself to my mind. I knew that Santos is connected by railway with S?o Paulo (better known in the form San Paulo), the chief town of this part of Brazil, and that the railway between that place and the capital was also completed; and I accordingly306 determined to leave the steamer, and find my way by land to Rio Janeiro.

Santos is an ancient place which had long remained obscure, until the great development of coffee-cultivation in South Brazil, and the construction of a railway to the interior, have made it the most advantageous port for the shipment to Europe of that important product. It lies at the mouth of an inconsiderable stream that enters the head of the bay. Seen from the sea, it appears to be backed by a range of lofty, flat-topped hills, but, in truth, these are no more than the seaward face of the great plateau which extends through a considerable part of the province of San Paulo. Although Santos is placed a few miles south of the Tropic of Capricorn, the aspect of the vegetation is completely tropical; and if a stranger were in doubt, the fringe of cocoa-nut palms on the shores of the bay would completely reassure him. Although the thermometer on board ship did not rise above 67°, the air seemed to us, arriving from the south, very warm, and we were surprised to hear the company’s agent, when he came on board, complain that he had found the water in his bath uncomfortably chilly.

I landed with a young German fellow-traveller who, like myself, intended to proceed to San Paulo; and, as we found that the train was not to start for three hours, we occupied the time in ascending the nearest hill. It was now nearly three months since I had enjoyed a glimpse of true tropical vegetation in the forest of Buenaventura, and the interest and delight of this renewed experience can never be forgotten.307 It was clear that on the slopes about Santos the native forests had been cleared, but on all the steeper parts, not reclaimed for cultivation, the indigenous vegetation had resumed the mastery. Trees and shrubs in wonderful variety contended for the mastery, and maintained, as they best could, a precarious struggle for existence with a crowd of climbers and parasites. So dense was the mass of vegetation that it was impossible to penetrate in any direction farther than a few yards, and there was no choice but to follow the track that led to the summit of the slope, on which stood a pretty house with an adjoining coffee-plantation. Among the many new forms of vegetation here seen, the most singular was that of the Tillandsia.43 Long, whitish, smooth cords hang from the branches of the taller trees, and at eight or ten feet from the ground abruptly produce a rosette of stiff leaves, like those of a miniature pine-apple, with a central spike of flowers. But the most brilliant ornament of this season was a species of trumpet-flower (Bignonia venusta, Ker = Pyrostegia ignea, Presl), which, partly supporting itself, and partly climbing over the shrubs and small trees, covered them with dense masses of brilliant orange or flame-coloured flowers.
TROPICAL VEGETATION AT SANTOS.

Laden with specimens, I returned to the town just in time for the afternoon train to San Paulo. The railway was constructed by an English company, and is so far remarkable that a somewhat difficult problem has been solved in an efficient and probably economical fashion. The object is, within a distance of a few308 miles, to raise a railway train about 2500 feet. This is done by four stationary engines. The line is laid on four rather steep inclines, with nearly level intermediate spaces, each ascending train being counterpoised by one descending in the opposite direction, and the loss of time in effecting the connections is quite inconsiderable.

On every map of Brazil that I have seen, the Serra do Mar, which we were here ascending, is represented as a range of mountains running parallel to the coast, and extending from near Rio Janeiro to the Bay of Paranagua in South Brazil, apparently dividing the strip of coast from the low country of the interior. Most travellers would probably have expected, as I did, that on reaching the summit we should descend considerably before reaching San Paulo, and it was with surprise that from the summit I saw before me what appeared to be a vast level plain, with some distant hills or mountains in the dim horizon. It is true that the drainage of the whole tract is carried westward and ultimately reaches the Paranà; but the slope is quite insensible, and I do not think that, in the space of about sixty miles that lay between us and San Paulo, the descent can exceed two or three hundred feet. There was a complete change in the aspect of the vegetation, and open tracts of moorland recalled scenes of Northern Germany.

Night had closed before we reached the station at San Paulo. There was a difficulty about a carriage to convey us to the hotel. Perhaps the demands were unreasonable, or perhaps we were too unfamiliar with the coinage of Brazil, which is that of the mother309 country; but on hearing from the driver a demand for several thousand rees, we indignantly resolved to walk, and engaged a man to convey our luggage to the hotel. We were favourably impressed by the appearance of this provincial capital. In the space of a mile we passed through several good streets, well lighted with gas, and better paved than any I had seen in South America. Many handsome houses with adjoining gardens were passed on the way, and, on reaching the Grand Hotel, nice clean rooms, and good food provided for the evening meal, further conduced to favourable first impressions of Brazil.
GERMAN COMMERCIAL TRAVELLERS.

My young German companion, a traveller for a commercial house, was returning from a visit to the interior of Brazil. By steamer on the Paranà and Paraguay he had gone from Buenos Ayres to Cuyabà, the capital of the province of Matto Grosso, a vast region with undefined boundaries, probably larger than most of the European states. I have often been struck by the results of superior education among Germans engaged in business, as compared with men of the same class in other countries. It is not that they often merit the designation of intellectual men, and still more rarely do they show active interest in scientific inquiry; but they retain a respect for the studies they have abandoned, are ready to talk intelligently on such subjects, and, as a rule, have a regard for accuracy as to facts which is so uncommon in the world, as much because the majority are too ignorant to appreciate their importance as owing to deliberate disregard of truth. I did not learn much as to the progress of inner Brazil, but my fellow-traveller310 mentioned a few particulars that had struck him as singular. He found the civil population of Cuyabà solicitous in their adherence to European fashions in dress, and, as a special note of respectability, the men always appearing in what are vulgarly called chimneypot hats. The current coin in all but small transactions consisted in English sovereigns, but he was unable to explain how these have reached a region which can have so few commercial relations with this country. He departed on the following morning, while I resolved to spend a day in visiting the neighbourhood of the city.

Although San Paulo lies exactly on the southern tropic, the winter climate is positively cool, and at sunrise on July 6 the thermometer stood at 58° Fahr. On a rough estimate from a single barometric observation it stands about 2400 feet above the sea. Its appearance was altogether unlike that of all the towns seen in Spanish America. The somewhat wearisome monotony of regular square blocks gave place to the irregular arrangement of some of the provincial towns in England, several streets running out into the country and ending in detached villas. The general impression was that of comfort and prosperity. Several well-appointed private carriages were seen in the streets, and the shops were as good as one commonly sees in a European town of the same class.

I was much interested by the short country excursion, which occupied most of the day, and by an aspect of vegetation entirely new to me. The plants, with scarcely an exception, belonged to genera prevailing in tropical America, many of them now seen311 by me for the first time; but the species were nearly all different from those of the coast region, and the general aspect of the flora still more markedly different. There was no trace of that luxuriance which we commonly expect in tropical vegetation; monocotyledonous plants, except grasses, were very few, and, in place of the large ferns that abounded at Santos, I found but a single Gleichenia, allied to a species that I had gathered in the Straits of Magellan.
FLORA OF THE BRAZILIAN PLATEAU.

Although a fair number of plants were still in flower, I soon came to the conclusion that night frosts must be not unfrequent at this season, and that a considerable proportion of the vegetation must be annually renewed. I found several groups of small trees, chiefly of the laurel family, and for the first time saw the Araucaria brasiliensis, possibly in a wild state; but none of the trees attained considerable height, and I doubt whether in a state of nature this plateau has ever been a forest region. I was rejoiced to see again, growing in some abundance, the splendid Bignonia venusta, and was led to doubt whether its real home may not be in the interior, and its appearance at Santos due to introduction by man.

We possess a fair amount of information as to the climate of the Brazilian coasts, but our knowledge of the meteorology of the interior provinces is miserably scanty. I was led to conjecture that, although the district surrounding San Paulo is not divided by a mountain range from the neighbouring coast region, the climate must be very much drier, and that the rainfall is mainly limited to the summer season.

In the course of my walk, I unexpectedly approached312 a country house about three miles from the town, and was somewhat surprised by meeting a carriage with ladies on their way to the house. As far as my experience has gone in the country parts of Portugal or Spain, such an encounter would there be regarded as a very unusual phenomenon.

The railway from San Paulo to Rio Janeiro appears to be a well-managed and prosperous concern, paying to its shareholders dividends of from ten to twelve per cent. The distance is about 380 miles, and the trains perform the distance in about thirteen and a half hours. Leaving my hotel in the dark, I found at the station a crowd of passengers contending for tickets; but good order was maintained, and we started punctually at six o’clock. For some way the line is carried at an apparent level over the plain, with occasional distant views of high hills to the north, and crosses two or three inconsiderable streams, whose waters run to the Paranà. A slight but continuous ascent, scarcely noticed by the passing, traveller, leads to the watershed which, in this direction, limits the vast basin of the Paranà. After a long but very gentle descent, we reached a stream flowing westward. I at first supposed it, like those already seen, to be a tributary of the Paranà which made its way through some depression in the low ridge over which we had passed; but I soon ascertained that this was an error. Near the spot where the railway crosses it, the stream makes a sharp turn, and thenceforth proceeds in a direction little north of east for about four hundred miles, till it falls into the Atlantic at S?o Jo?o da Barra, north-east of Rio313 Janeiro. This is the Rio Parahyba do Sul, not to be confounded with the Rio Parahyba north of Pernambuco, nor yet with the more important river Paranahyba in the province of Piauhy.
GEOLOGY OF EASTERN BRAZIL.

For the greater part of the way to Rio the railway runs parallel with the river. As laid down on the maps, the valley lies between a mountain range called the Serra da Mantiqueira on the left, and a minor range, which divides the upper course of the river from the middle part, where it flows in the opposite direction. The appearance of the country through which I now passed forcibly suggested to me views respecting its geological history, which were confirmed and extended by what I afterwards saw in the neighbourhood of Rio, and by all that I have since been able to learn on the subject.

I had already been struck by what little I had seen of the plateau region of the province of San Paulo. Beneath the superficial crust of vegetable soil, the plateau appears to be formed of more or less red arenaceous deposits, such as would result from the erosion and decomposition of the gneiss or granite which is the only rock I had seen in the country. In the valley of the Parahyba, the connection was unmistakable. Every section in the valley showed thick beds of the same coarse-grained, red arenaceous deposits, and on the slopes the same material lay at the base of whatever masses of granite we approached. But what especially struck me were the forms and appearance of the mountains on either hand, if that designation could properly be given to them. I saw nothing that would elsewhere be called a mountain314 range. The outlines were in most places rounded and covered with vegetation, but at intervals occurred steep conical masses, of the same general type as the sugar-loaf peaks surrounding the Bay of Rio Janeiro. However steep, the rocks nowhere showed angular peaks or edges, these being always more or less rounded.

It would be rash to generalize from the partial observations of a passing traveller; but the broad outlines of the geology of Brazil, or, at least, of the eastern provinces, have now been well traced,44 and some general conclusions may safely be drawn. It is true that large districts of the interior have been but partially explored, and remain blanks on the geological map; but the eastern half of Brazil is undoubtedly ancient land; presenting no trace of secondary strata except in small detached areas near the coast, and where more recent tertiary deposits are to be found only in a portion of the great valley of the Amazons. A mountain range, having various local designations, but which may best be called the Serra da Mantiqueira, extends from the neighbourhood of San Paulo to the lower course of the Rio San Francisco, for a distance of twelve hundred miles, and this is mainly composed of gneiss, sometimes passing into true granite, syenite, or mica schist; and the same may be said of the Serra do Mar, a less considerable range lying between the main chain and the coast. The315 southern limits of the Serra do Mar do not appear to be well-defined, but we may estimate its length at from five to six hundred miles. The other mountain systems of the empire are less well known; but I believe that the ranges dividing the province of Minas Geraes from Goyaz, and the so-called Cordillera Grande of the province of Goyaz, lying between the two main branches of the great river Tocantins, are largely formed of ancient sedimentary rocks of the Laurentian and Huronian groups.
DISINTEGRATION OF GRANITE.

The granite of the Serra da Mantiqueira and Serra do Mar is coarse-grained, with large crystals of felspar, and is therefore much exposed to disintegration. So far as I know, the vast masses of detritus forming the plateaux of this region show no other materials than such as would be produced by the disintegration of the crystalline rocks, and there is strong reason to believe that these have never been overlaid by sedimentary deposits.

Let us now consider what must have been the past history of a region formed of such materials, exposed, during a large part of the past history of the earth, to the action of the elements. In such an inquiry one of the chief points for consideration is the amount of rainfall. The direct effect, both mechanical and chemical, of rain falling on a rock surface is perhaps not the most important. Still more essential is its action in removing the disintegrated matter, and thereby exposing a fresh surface to renewed action. The difference in the absolute result due to abundant or deficient rainfall would be found, if we could calculate it accurately, to be enormous. In a nearly316 rainless country, such as Egypt or Peru, we see a slope covered with débris, and are apt to conclude that the rock is being rapidly disintegrated; but, in truth, what we see is the work of many, perhaps many hundred, centuries, which remains in situ because there is no agency to remove it. In a land of heavy rainfall the débris is speedily carried to lower levels, and the work of destruction is constantly renewed.

We have scarcely any observations of rainfall in the mountain districts of Brazil. The only reliable return that I have seen is that of one year’s rainfall at Gongo Seco, in Goyaz, which amounted to more than a hundred and thirty inches; but we may safely conclude that it is everywhere very great. It is also important to note that if, as most geologists now believe, the Atlantic valley has existed since an early period of the earth’s history, Eastern Brazil must always have been a land of heavy rainfall. A great mountain range on the eastern side of the continent might have created a desert region in the interior, but would have received in the past as much aqueous precipitation as it does at the present time.

We have, therefore, to consider what must have been the ancient condition of a region subjected throughout vast periods of geological time to the utmost force of disintegrating agencies applied to a rock very liable to yield to them, and where, without reckoning the large proportion which must have been carried by rivers to the sea, we see such vast deposits of the disintegrated materials formed out of the same matrix. To my mind the conclusion is irresistible that ancient Brazil was one of the greatest mountain317 regions of the earth, and that its summits may very probably have exceeded in height any now existing in the world. What we now behold are the ruins of the ancient mountains, and the singular conical peaks are, as Liais has explained, the remains of some harder masses of metamorphic gneiss, of which the strata were tilted at a high angle. As the same writer has remarked, although the crystalline rocks are for the most part easily disintegrated, some portions are formed of much more resisting materials, and these have to some extent survived the incessant action of destructive forces.
RUINS OF THE ANCIENT MOUNTAINS.

We are far from possessing the materials for a rational estimate of the probable extent and elevation of the ancient mountain ranges of Brazil. In the first place, we have a plateau region occupying a large part of the upper basin of the Paranà, with an area of fully 100,000 square miles, covered with detritus to an unknown, but certainly considerable, depth. In addition to this, it cannot be doubted that the finer constituents carried down by that river, and its tributary the Paraguay, from the same original home, have largely contributed to the formation of the Argentine pampas and Paraguay, including the northern portion of the Gran Chaco. Borings and chemical analysis of the soil may hereafter give us reliable data; but in the mean time we may safely reckon that an area of 200,000 square miles has been mainly formed from the materials derived from the ancient mountains whose importance I endeavour to point out. In addition to all this, we should further reckon the soluble matter and fine silt carried to the318 ocean during the long course of geological history, and take into account that the same great mountain region also furnished materials to streams which flowed northward and eastward.

In attempting to speculate on the past history of this region it is important to remark that, so far as evidence is available, there is reason to believe that Brazil has undergone less considerable changes of level than most other parts of the earth’s surface. Even if we go back to the period of the earlier secondary rocks, there is no evidence to show that movements of elevation or depression have exceeded a few hundred feet.

I have attempted elsewhere45 to give a sketch of the views which I hold as to the probable origin of the chief types of phanerogamous vegetation. I there pointed out that, at a period when physical conditions in the lower regions of the earth’s surface were widely different, and the proportion of carbonic acid gas present in the atmosphere was very much greater than it has been since the deposition of the coal measures, it was only in the higher region of great mountain countries that conditions prevailed at all similar to those now existing. I further argued that, if the early types of flowering plants were confined, as I believe they were, to the high mountains, we could not expect to find their remains in deposits formed in shallow lakes and estuaries until after the probably long period during which they were gradually modified to adapt them to altered physical conditions.

319
VALLEY OF THE PARAHYBA.

A general survey of the South American flora shows, along with elements derived from distant regions, a large number of types either absolutely peculiar to that continent, or which, in some cases, appear to have spread from that centre to other areas. Of these peculiar types some may probably have originated in the Andean chain, but as to the majority, it seems far more probable that their primitive home was in Brazil; and it is precisely on the ancient mountains of this region that I should look for the ancestors of many forms of vegetation which have stamped their character on the vegetation of the continent.

I should be the first to admit that the views here expressed have no claim to rank as more than probable conjectures; but I hold that these, when resting on some positive basis of facts, are often serviceable to the progress of science, by stimulating inquiry and leading observers to co-ordinate facts whose connection had not previously been apparent.

In following the valley, in places where the siliceous soil supported only a scanty vegetation, I was struck by the singular appearance of scattered piles, usually about four feet in height, having much the appearance of rude milestones, occurring here and there in some abundance, but never very near each other. I was often able to avail myself of the short halts of the train at wayside stations to secure specimens of interesting plants, but I was not able to approach near to these unknown objects. I have no doubt, however, that they were habitations of termites, or, as they are commonly called, white ants. I have never been320 able to conjecture the origin of the instinct that induces so many species of termites in different parts of the world to construct dwellings in this form, nor what advantage they can derive from it.

As the Parahyba appeared to be a rapid-flowing stream, it is probable that in following the valley the railway descends considerably before it reaches the point, about eighty miles north of Rio, where it abruptly turns away from the river to make its way to the capital. The appearance of the vegetation announced a change of climate, but I did not notice any palms by the way. The country between the Parahyba valley and the coast appears to be an irregular mountain tract, nowhere of any great height, with projecting summits rising here and there of the same general character as those already described, and the railway follows a sinuous course so as to select the lowest depressions between the neighbouring bosses of granite. As we wound to and fro, constantly changing our direction amid scenes of increasing loveliness, night closed with that suddenness to which one becomes accustomed in the tropics, and the last part of the way was unfortunately passed in darkness. The approach to Rio must be surpassingly beautiful, but, beyond the fantastic outlines of the surrounding mountains, little could be discerned save the lights of the city, visible for many miles before we reached the railway station.

After a long drive through paved streets, I reached the English hotel (Carson’s), and was curtly informed that the house was full. The next in rank is the Fonda dos Estrangeiros, to which I proceeded, and321 found quarters in a rather shabby room, not overclean. The general style of the establishment and the food provided answered the same description. It is generally admitted that the accommodation for strangers in the capital of Brazil does not come up to the reasonable expectations of travellers.
THE BAY OF RIO JANEIRO.

By quitting the steamer at Santos, and travelling to Rio by land, I had gained some slight acquaintance with a new region, but I was well aware that I had suffered a considerable loss. The view on first entering the Bay of Rio Janeiro is one of those spectacles that leave an ineffaceable impression even on persons not very sensitive to natural beauty, and one on which my fancy from early youth onwards had most often dwelt. The pursuits of a naturalist, besides their own fascination, offer additional rewards to all who worship in the temple of Nature, but they also sometimes exact a sacrifice. Sallying forth on the morning of July 8, a little under the impression of the unattractive quarters of the night, I had but very moderate expectations as to what might be enjoyed of the scenery in the midst of a large city and its surroundings, but I was speedily disabused. Man has certainly done little to set off the unequalled fascinations of the place, but he has been powerless to conceal them. I passed a delightful day, partly strolling much at random on foot, and occasionally availing myself of the street-cars, which are frequented by all classes, and afford a stranger the best opportunity for seeing something of the very mixed population.

The famous Bay of Rio Janeiro may properly be described as a salt-water lake, so completely is it322 landlocked and cut off from the open sea. About thirty miles long and twenty in breadth, it is large enough to allow of spacious views, yet not so large as to lose in distance the marvellous background that is presented in every direction by the fantastic peaks that surround it. Numerous islands stud the surface, the larger telling their history in piles of huge blocks, either simulating rude Cyclopean architecture, or lying in wild confusion—granite pinnacles, half-decayed or fallen into utter ruin. The shores are everywhere a maze of coves and inlets, in which land and water are interlaced; and over all—the mainland and the islands alike—the wild riot of tropical vegetation holds its sway, defying the efforts of man to tame it to trimness. Even within the limits of the city, which stretches for about four miles along the shore, four or five coves present a ceaseless variety of outline. Of necessity the plan is completely irregular. Where a space of level ground opens out between the shore and the rocks, the city has spread out; where the rocks approach the water’s edge, it is narrowed in places to a single street. In architecture, since the great era of Alcoba?a and Batalha, the Portuguese have not achieved much, and their descendants in South America have done little to adorn the capital of their great empire. The largest building, the imperial palace, might easily be taken for a barrack. Nature has undertaken the decoration of the city, and, amid the palms, and under the shade of large-leaved tropical trees in the public walks and gardens, the absence of sightly buildings is not felt.

The suburb of Botafogo, which is the fashionable323 quarter, lies on the shores of the most beautiful of the coves round which the city has grown up. It mainly consists of a range of handsome villas facing the sea, each with a charming garden, and, in this season, must be a delightful residence. But it is generally admitted that the climate of Rio is debilitating to European constitutions. As compared with most coast stations in the tropics the heat is not excessive—the mean temperature of the warmest month (February) is not quite 80° Fahr., and that of the coldest (July) about 70°; but most Europeans, and especially those of Germanic stock, require to be braced by intervals of cold, if they are to endure a hot climate with impunity. The annual appearance of yellow fever in the city supplies a still stronger motive to many of the foreign residents for fixing their abode amongst the hills. The chief resort, which in summer is frequented by most of the wealthier classes, is the well-known Petropolis, in the Organ Mountains, or Serra dos Org?os, that rise beyond the northern shores of the bay.
THE AVENUE OF PALMS.

From Botafogo I directed my steps towards the Botanic Garden, and, as usual among people of Portuguese descent, found great readiness in giving information to strangers. Following a road that turned away from the shore, I seemed to have left the city far behind, and be quite in the country; but presently another beautiful dark blue cove opened out before me, and again turning inland I reached the garden. I must confess to a feeling of something like disappointment at the famous avenue of palms. It has been correctly described as reproducing the324 effect of the aisle of a great Gothic cathedral, and the defect, as it seemed to me, is that the reproduction is too faithful. The trees of Oreodoxa regia, which are about a hundred feet in height, are all exactly of the same form and dimensions, so much alike that they appear to have been cast in the same mould, and it is difficult to persuade one’s self that they are not artificial productions. It may not be easy to say why the same uniformity which satisfies the eye in a construction of stone, should fail to do so when similar forms are represented by natural objects. I suppose the fact to be that in all ?sthetic judgments the mind is unconsciously influenced by trains of association. Our admiration is aroused not merely by given combinations of colour or form—by the mere visual image formed on the retina—but is controlled by our sense of fitness. We should resent as a caprice of the architect an irregularity in a vista of arches: among objects endowed with life we expect some manifestation of the universal tendency to variation.

With an intention, never fulfilled, to make a second visit to the garden, and, under the guidance of the director, Dr. Glaziou, to make nearer acquaintance with some of the vegetable wonders there brought together, I returned to my hotel. Before reaching Rio, I had decided to devote most of my short remaining time to a visit to the Organ Mountains, and to make Petropolis my head-quarters. As there was no especial reason for delay, I started for that place on the morning of the following day, July 9.

I shall make no attempt to describe the beauties of the bay as they were successively unfolded during the325 short passage to and from Petropolis. From early youth the Bay of Naples has ever appeared to me so perfectly beautiful that I was very reluctant to admit the pretensions of a rival. Even now I can well understand that some may find the pictures presented to the eye on the charmed coasts of our Mediterranean bay more complete, and the tints of the shores and sea and sky more harmonious; but there could be no doubt as to the gorgeous vesture that everywhere adorns this land. The vegetation of the Mediterranean coasts seems but poor and homely after the eye has dwelt on the luxuriance of tropical life, as though one were to compare a garb of homespun with trappings of velvet and embroidery. The islands of the bay present a ceaseless variety. Some are mere rocks, on which sea-birds of unknown aspect stood perched. Many of the larger are inhabited, and one, as I heard, has a population of thirteen hundred souls, and several charming villas showed it to be a favourite resort.
THE ORGAN MOUNTAINS.

In about an hour and a half from the city, the little steamer ran alongside of a wooden jetty at a spot on the northern side of the bay facing the bold range of the Organ Mountains, which extend for over twenty miles in an easterly direction. Between the northern shore and the foot of the mountains is a level swampy tract, evidently filled up by the detritus borne down by the numerous streams, and beyond this the mountain range rises very abruptly from the plain. Somewhat to my disappointment, I ascertained that Petropolis lies at a considerable distance from the higher part of the Organ range to which326 my attention had hitherto been directed. It is towards its eastern extremity that the Serra shows that remarkable series of granitic pinnacles of nearly equal height, appearing vertical from a distance, that suggested the likeness to the pipes of an organ whence these mountains obtained their name. The height of the loftier part has been estimated at 7500 feet above sea-level. I do not think that any of the summits near Petropolis can surpass the level of 5000 feet.

A short train with a small locomotive carried passengers for Petropolis across the low tract to the point where the ascent abruptly commences, a distance of nine or ten miles. The marshy plain is doubtless fever-stricken, and we passed very few houses on the way to the terminus, which is appropriately named Raiz da Serra. The construction of a railway on the slope leading thence to Petropolis, up which trains should be drawn by a wire rope, had been commenced, but at the time of my visit passengers were conveyed in carriages, each drawn by six or eight mules. A well-kept and well-engineered road—by far the best mountain road that I have seen in any part of America—leads to the pass or summit of the ridge that divides Petropolis from the Bay of Rio. The views during the ascent, especially in looking back over the bay, were entrancing, and new and strange forms of vegetation showed themselves at each turn of the road. From the summit, a gentle descent of a couple of miles leads to the main street of Petropolis.

The place lies about 2900 feet above the sea, in a basin or depression amidst forest-covered hills.327 The abundant rains of this region have carved the surface into a multitude of little dells and recesses, separated by hills and knolls of various size and height, leaving in their midst one comparatively broad space, where most of the buildings are grouped. The streamlets that issue from every nook in the mountains are finally united in two streams that flow in opposite directions, but both, I believe, ultimately find their way northward to the Parahyba. The streamlets have been turned to account by the inhabitants, for on each side of the main streets a rivulet of crystal water serves to maintain the vigour of a line of trees supplying the one need of the long summer—shelter from the vertical midday sun. In the present season (mid-winter) only one hotel was open; but in summer, when all who can do so escape from the oppressive heat of Rio, two or three others are generally crowded. It is at once apparent that Petropolis is a place for rest and enjoyment, not for business. The few shops and hotels are all in the main street, Rua do Imperador; the other streets, or roads, lie between ranges of detached villas, each with a garden, and here and there some more secluded habitation is withdrawn into some nook on the margin of the forest.
ATTRACTIONS OF PETROPOLIS.

The large majority of the trees and shrubs of this region have persistent leaves, but a few lose their foliage annually in winter, and a few others, I believe, during the heat of summer. The only prominent reminder of the fact that we were in winter was the appearance of the Bombax trees that line the main street, now completely bare of foliage. The tree commonly planted in this part of Brazil is, I believe,328 the Bombax pubescens of botanists. The fruit, with its copious silky appendage to the seeds, alone remained at this season; but when covered with a mass of large white flowers, it must have a gorgeous appearance.

I cannot feel sure that every naturalist will approve of the resolution, which I very soon formed, to remain as long as was possible at Petropolis. To reach the higher summits of the Organ Mountains would have required at least three or four days’ travel, and at this season I could expect to see very little of the vegetation of the higher zone. In the mean time, I found in the immediate neighbourhood, within a radius of four or five miles, an unexhausted variety of objects of interest, and the attractions of the place were doubtless heightened by the fortunate circumstances in which I found myself. It is certain that the ten days that I spent at this fascinating spot remain in my memory as the nearest approach to a visit to the terrestrial paradise that I can expect to realize. Besides the British minister, Mr. Corbett, I was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of two English families, whose constant kindness and hospitality largely contributed to the enjoyment of my stay. To find in the midst of the marvels of tropical nature the charms of cultivated society, was a combination that I had not ventured to promise to myself.

Although I never went farther than five or six miles from my head-quarters, the variety of delightful walks in every direction seemed to be inexhaustible; go where one would, it seemed certain that one could not go wrong. I soon ascertained, indeed, that it is useless to attempt to penetrate the forests, except by329 following a road or cleared path. My first lesson was on the slope of a little hill some three hundred feet in height that overlooks the town. I was told that there was a path on the farther side, but, seeing the ground partly open, with trees of small stature not much crowded together, I resolved to follow the straight course. The ascent cost me over two hours of hard work, and I accomplished it only with the help of a sharp knife, by which to cut through the tangle of vegetation. In the midst of this I was surprised to find tall fronds of our common English bracken (Pteris aquilina), a fern that has been able to adapt its constitution to all but the most extreme climates of the world. The little hill that cost me so much labour had been completely cleared ten years before, so that all the trees and shrubs had grown up since that time.
THE STRUGGLE FOR EXISTENCE.

The first excursion recommended to every stranger at Petropolis is that to the Falls of Itamariti. I went there twice, varying somewhat my course—the first time with a horse, which I found quite unnecessary and rather an incumbrance; the second time alone. The falls are not very considerable. A stream so slender that it can be passed by stepping-stones falls over two ledges of granite rock, together about forty feet in height; but, framed in a mass of the most luxuriant tropical vegetation, the whole forms a lovely picture. For some reason which I did not learn, the forest on the slopes of the lower part of the glen below the falls had been felled just before my visit, and its beauty had vanished, but fortunately the arm of the destroyer was arrested before reaching the falls.

330 As happens to every stranger in a tropical forest, I was bewildered amidst the great variety of trees that struggle for supremacy, the one condition for victory being to get a full share of the glorious sunshine overhead. By vigorous tugging at one of the lianes that hung like a rope from a branch sixty feet above my head, I succeeded in breaking off a fragment, and identifying one of the larger trees as a species of fig, with large, oval, leathery leaves somewhat like those of a magnolia. It is needless to say that each tree is invaded by a host of enemies—parasites that fatten on its substance, comparatively harmless epiphytes that cling to the branches, and hosts of climbing lianes that mount to the topmost branches, robbing them of their share of sunlight, and hang down, often twined together, and in the deep shade are generally mere bare flexible stems. It was strange to observe that one of the deadliest enemies, a small parasite, fixing itself near the ground on the trunks of the larger trees, is a species of fig, belonging to the same genus as some of the giants of the forest, and doubtless tracing its descent from a common ancestor. It is in the tropical forest that one feels the force of Darwin’s phrase “struggle for existence,” as applied to the vegetable world. In our latitudes it is by an effort of the imagination that we realize the fact that in our fields and woodlands there is a contest going on between rival claimants for the necessary conditions of life. Here we see ourselves in the midst of a scene of savage warfare. The great climbers, like monstrous boas, that twine round and strangle the branch, remind one of the Laocoon; the obscure parasite that eats331 into the trunk of a mighty tree till a great cavity prepares its downfall, testifies to the destructive power of an insidious enemy.
THE HERMIT OF PETROPOLIS.

It is only in the more open spots that a botanist is able to make close acquaintance with the smaller trees and shrubs. Near to the stream I was able to hook down a branch and secure flowering specimens of a Begonia that grew to a height of over twenty feet. In such situations Melastomace? were everywhere abundant, but for variety of forms the ferns surpassed any of the families of flowering plants. I was surprised to find that the beautiful tree ferns, that add so much to the charm of the tropical flora, were rarely to be found with fructification, and the huge fronds being of quite unmanageable dimensions, I did not attempt to collect specimens. Of the smaller kinds, when I was able, with the kind assistance of Mr. Baker, of Kew, to name my specimens, I found that I had collected thirty-five species in the neighbourhood of Petropolis.

During my stay here I visited a German gentleman whose singular manner of life excites the interest and curiosity of the European residents. I am ignorant of the motives that have led Mr. Doer, evidently an educated and cultivated man, to lead the life of a hermit far from his native country. He has built for himself a small house in the forest, on one of the hills that enclose the basin of Petropolis, and lives quite alone, except for the daily visit of a boy who carries the provisions that satisfy his very moderate wants. He seems to be entirely occupied in studying the habits of the native animals of the country, and332 especially those of the Lepidopterous insects—butterflies and moths—that adorn this region. By attention to the habitual food of the various species, he has succeeded in keeping in his house the caterpillars that in due time produce the perfect insect, and has preserved in cabinets large collections of fine specimens.

At the suggestion of the friend who accompanied me, Mr. Doer was good enough to introduce me to the family of small monkeys which he has raised and domesticated. The senior members had been brought from some place in Northern Brazil, but they had multiplied, some of the offspring being born in his house, and now formed a rather numerous party. The creatures habitually passed the day in the forest, never, in Mr. Doer’s belief, wandering to a distance from the house, and at night came in and nestled among the rafters of the roof. The call was by a peculiar note, somewhat resembling a low whistle, repeated two or three times, and before a minute had elapsed the little creatures came swarming about the open window. They were decidedly pretty, their large black eyes giving an impression of intelligence, but I did not detect any indication of attachment to their master. I cannot say to what species they belonged. They had large ears like those of the marmoset, but differed in having a prehensile tail. One of them hung with his head downward, suspended by the tail from some projection above the window. After receiving some fragments of sweetmeat they soon departed, returning to their favourite haunts among the trees of the forest.

Starting early one morning, and reaching the crest of the range that divides Petropolis from the Bay of333 Rio Janeiro, I enjoyed in great perfection a spectacle that is commonly visible at this season when the weather is clear and settled. Before sunrise a stratum of mist extends over the bay and the low country surrounding it. As I saw it, this may have been about a thousand feet in thickness when the sun first reached it, and the fantastic summits of the mountains rose like islets from a sea of dazzling white. As the sun’s rays began to act, the mist appeared to melt away from above; the lower hills and the rocky islands of the bay emerged in succession, and finally the veil completely disappeared, and the whole wondrous view was completely disclosed.
A SEA OF MIST.

The beautiful effects displayed in the gradual disappearance of mist as seen from a height in early morning must be familiar to every genuine mountaineer, and may be enjoyed amongst the hills of the British Islands. Among my own recollections, a certain morning, when I stood alone at sunrise on the highest peak of the Pilatus, near Lucerne, showed the phenomenon in a most striking way, accompanied as it was by the coloured halo that surrounds the shadow of the observer thrown on the cloud-stratum below. But in my previous experience the disappearance of the mist was always accompanied by the upward movement of some portions of the mass. The surface appears to heave under the action of force acting from below, and some masses are generally carried up so as temporarily to envelope the observer. In the view over the Bay of Rio I was much farther away from the surface of the mist than in previous experiences of the kind, and I may have been misled by distance334 from the scene of action, but, though watching attentively, I saw no appearance of heaving of the surface or any break in its regular form. The waste seemed to proceed altogether from the upper surface, and the emergence of the prominent objects in regular succession gave direct evidence to that effect.

During the first five days of my visit the weather at Petropolis was perfectly enjoyable. The temperature varied from about 60° Fahr. at sunrise to about 70° in the afternoon; but the effect of radiation must have been intense, as in an exposed situation a minimum thermometer descended on one night to 46°, and on the next to 44°, and the dew was heavier than I have ever seen it elsewhere, so that in some places the quantity fallen from the leaves of the trees made the ground perfectly wet in the morning. The barometer varied very little, even after the weather changed, and stood as nearly as possible three inches lower than at Rio, showing a difference of level of about 2900 feet. On the 16th of July the sky became overcast, and some rain fell in the afternoon, the thermometer rising at two p.m. to 73° Fahr., and moderate rain fell on each succeeding day until the evening of the 19th, but scarcely any movement of the air was perceptible. There is a remarkable difference in the distribution of rainfall between the part of Brazil lying within about fifteen degrees of the equator and the region south of that limit. At Pernambuco (south lat. 8° 4′), out of an annual rainfall of about a hundred and ten inches, nearly ninety inches fall during the six months from March to August, and at Bahia, with less total rainfall, the proportion is nearly the same.335 But at Rio Janeiro the rainy season falls in summer, from November to March, and winter is the dry season. Of an annual rainfall of forty-eight and a half inches, only five and a half inches fall in the winter months, June, July, and August, and less than an inch and a half in July. No doubt the amount of rain is greater at a mountain station such as Petropolis, while the proportion falling in the different seasons must be abou............