Ayres-and the total represents ten males and seven sisters of S. Vincent de Paul. The men have rigged up two altars, fore and aft, for fetish every morning. All the day they mutter over their rosaries and breviaries, and looking out of the corners of their eyes, according to tuition, they let nothing escape them. However unwell be other professions, these never fail at meals; dreadfully ravenous, they resemble in those seedy black robes, grimy talons, and blacking-brush beards, the darker sort of vultures. The 'Sisters' wore their gullwing caps, and were, as usual, of two categories-the blousy, happy, hardeating many, and the pale, delicate, lady-like few. There were also two Irish girls, postulants, with cocknoses, loose mouths, and goggle gooseberry eyes, essentially underbred: if you look at them they turn upon you their backs, the only part whose defects are not visible and palpable.

The Leeward Islands of Cape Verd did not show. The third day after our departure carried us to the climate of Cape Palmas, even to the tornado; this indeed is the only break in the dense, close, damp, heavy atmosphere that bathes us with perspiration as at Zanzibar, whilst the rolling seas never allow the ports of our unventilated cabins to be opened. We are now in the ill-famed Doldrums,' the Frenchman's 'Pot-au-noir,' where the north-east and south-east Trades meet, and cause dead airs, as two opposing currents cause dead water. The sun wades in mist, and its rays are sultry without drying. We sit in dangerously damp skins; like Peter Schemil, we have lost our shadows. 'And here it is to be noted,' saith Master John Winter,

'that after we came within four degrees of the equinoctial, until we were as much passed it, no daie did pass without great store of raine.' Such is still the climate near the line, where, according to the eloquent Vieyra, even conscience petrifies!

About noon on the fifth day we crossed the equator, without the baptême du ligne now fast waxing obsolete, and we gladly hailed, after much rain and many squalls, the clear blue skies, the dry, elastic, bracing air, and the refreshing temperature of the rapid and steady south-east Trade. If the days are delightful, the nights are magnificent. Between the pure azure flecked with high white cloud above, and the diaphonous lapis-lazuli, foam-fretted waters below, you experience a perfect physical bien-être; all caresses the senses, and a vague feeling of enjoyment-the Asiatic Kayf-attaches you to that doubtful gift called life. You have nothing to complain of in this fresh crystal-clear air; you are neither hot nor cold, damp nor dry; your eyes are not dazzled by excessive light, nor are they dulled by saddening grey. You feel that if annihilation were offered to you, you might regret it by no means an every-day frame of mind.

Early on July 13-we were one day late-all gathered on the paddle-box gangway to sight the New World. We heard the old story that the land could be smelt from afar; but, as usual, our noses were not equal to the task. About noon we saw over the starboard quarter a long, low, purple line, between blue above and blue below, which might be the West Afri can coast. These are the levels stretching to Paraïba do Norte. This length without breadth breaks

forty-nine, with six building, perform this service, leaving Bordeaux about noon on the 25th of each month.

As regards the space covered by it, the Messageries is the greatest steam-ship company of modern days. It began thus: In 1835, by the advice of a far-seeing financier, M. Humann, the Chambers granted six millions of francs to start fifteen ships, each of 100 to 160-horse power, on the Mediterranean; and after a favourite hobby of the day, which iron-built craft soon settled, it was to be a transport service that would be converted into a war navy. In 1837 the first vessel, the Scamandre, left Marseilles amidst great rejoicings.

All tenders from private companies were rejected. Austria had set the example by Lloyd's; England by the P. and O.' Still France

held to her traditions of government. But the budget of 18501 proved that the twelve years between 1837 and 1849 had cost the nation more than thirty-seven millions of francs for eighteen ships, of which fourteen were nearly useless -a deathblow to the system of 1835! One day I hope you will see something of the kind happen to the Government dockyards, to the arms manufactories, and to the many similar obsolete Old Sarum institutions of Great Britain.

The French, than whom no more practical nation exists, turned at once to concessionnaires.' There were, of course, slow coaches in the Chambers. J'appelle cela le vol de l'Etat,' quoth M. de Framboisy. C'est le pays jeté en pâture à une compagnie,' echoed M. de Cerisy. Happily these conservative gentlemen spoke in vain. The large plant

of the Messageries Impériales-you remember Notre Dame des Victoires and the huge lumbering diligences, and the seven-league boots?

had been rendered useless by the rail. The company was glad to turn its new interests into the new channel, and a contract was concluded in July 1851. The young service began with four Mediterranean lines of 105 26 leagues, under a subsidy of twenty-eight francs per league. It proved of national utility in 1854, and again in the Austro-Italian war and in the Syrian expedition. It has revived French commerce in Turkey, Egypt, and China, and now it possesses thirteen main and branch lines, including the Shanghai and Yokohama,' which is to be opened in 1866.

The passage of 1,600 miles from S. Vincent to Pernambuco costs 16.

The Estremadure, Captain Sounnier, was to start at II A.M. on July 6. She did not move till 4 P.M., when we were dining-apparently a favourite hour for departure.

The main cabin was small; therefore meals were double, to the dire distress of the stewards. There was some excitement when I came on board; some mutinous spirit in the kitchen had traité de marmiton the first cook-high treason against the highest office of King Gaster.

The place looks picturesque, as there are two tables devoted to ecclesiastics, male and female. The former are of every grade, from the clean-shaven, smartly-dressed aumonier of the Bourbon age and type, bound for the admiral's ship, to the pickpocket-like neophyte-a sans culotte of the church, proceeding to some college at Buenos

Ayres-and the total represents ten males and seven sisters of S. Vincent de Paul. The men have rigged up two altars, fore and aft, for fetish every morning. All the day they mutter over their rosaries and breviaries, and looking out of the corners of their eyes, according to tuition, they let nothing escape them. However unwell be other professions, these never fail at meals; dreadfully ravenous, they resemble in those seedy black robes, grimy talons, and blacking-brush beards, the darker sort of vultures. The 'Sisters' wore their gullwing caps, and were, as usual, of two categories-the blousy, happy, hardeating many, and the pale, delicate, lady-like few. There were also two Irish girls, postulants, with cocknoses, loose mouths, and goggle gooseberry eyes, essentially underbred: if you look at them they turn upon you their backs, the only part whose defects are not visible and palpable.

The Leeward Islands of Cape Verd did not show. The third day after our departure carried us to the climate of Cape Palmas, even to the tornado; this indeed is the only break in the dense, close, damp, heavy atmosphere that bathes us with perspiration as at Zanzibar, whilst the rolling seas never allow the ports of our unventilated cabins to be opened. We are now in the ill-famed Doldrums,' the Frenchman's Pot-au-noir,' where the north-east and south-east Trades meet, and cause dead airs, as two opposing currents cause dead water. The sun wades in mist, and its rays are sultry without drying. We sit in dangerously damp skins; like Peter Schemil, we have lost our shadows. 'And here it is to be noted,' saith Master John Winter,

6

'that after we came within four degrees of the equinoctial, until we were as much passed it, no daie did pass without great store of raine.' Such is still the climate near the line, where, according to the eloquent Vieyra, even conscience petrifies!

About noon on the fifth day we crossed the equator, without the baptême du ligne now fast waxing obsolete, and we gladly hailed, after much rain and many squalls, the clear blue skies, the dry, elastic, bracing air, and the refreshing temperature of the rapid and steady south-east Trade. If the days are delightful, the nights are magnificent. Between the pure azure flecked with high white cloud above, and the diaphonous lapis-lazuli, foam-fretted waters below, you experience a perfect physical bien-être ; all caresses the senses, and a vague feeling of enjoyment-the Asiatic Kayf-attaches you to that doubtful gift called life. You have nothing to complain of in this fresh crystal-clear air; you are neither hot nor cold, damp nor dry; your eyes are not dazzled by excessive light, nor are they dulled by saddening grey. You feel that if annihilation were offered to you, you might regret it by no means an every-day frame of mind.

Early on July 13-we were one day late-all gathered on the paddle-box gangway to sight the New World. We heard the old story that the land could be smelt from afar; but, as usual, our noses were not equal to the task. About noon we saw over the starboard quarter a long, low, purple line, between blue above and blue below, which might be the West African coast. These are the levels stretching to Paraïba do Norte. This length without breadth breaks

up as we advance into little rolling rises which are hardly hills, not unlike the shores of Hampshire, England, were it not for the fringing of palms affecting the physiognomy, cocoa - nut trees, domes, towers, and tall houses bleaching in the sun, and rising from the waves. Eight leagues is the extreme limit at which low-lying Pernambuco can be seen; it then appears, first a faint line of white masonry, then shipping, and lastly the general features of a commercial town, speckling the bottom of a shallow bay, whose southern end, limpy Saint Augustine, is some thirty miles distant. The light is visible at sixteen miles. Passing Olinda, the old Villa de Marina, we give it a wide berth of three miles, and then turn south as though bound for Rio: the object is to avoid the Olinda Reef, Baixos de Olinda,' which projects some two nautical Imiles to the east. The romantic hill, with its rich mosaic work of massive white temples, towers, and houses, pink, grey, or creamy yellow, and sometimes of blue and white Dutch tiles, all red-roofed, and set off by the light-green bananas and dark green mangos, jacks, and forest trees rising bold, high above the flats, justifies its name, 'O, Pretty!' This embalms the exclamation of its founder, Duaste Coetho Pereira, O linda situação para se fundar uma villa.' After expelling the French from Itamaraça Island, he was made by D. João III., on March 10, 1530, donatory of the captaincy, and the donation was confirmed on Sept. 24, 1534. The appellation, you will see, is in better taste than the style adopted by a late Governor-General of Canada, who baptised four townships after Her Excellency's lapdogs.

Ölinda is still, as the ancient

Dutchman called it, 'pulchris cedibus templis que conspicua.' It has the remains of extreme beauty; from afar the architectural sites are perfect, and the whitewashed buildings sparkle in the sun like snow. Churches swarm therenearly one to each house; they would easily lodge the Brazilian army. The hill summit, 300 feet high, is crowned by the snowy Sé, or cathedral, whilst the huge masses of S. Bento and the Carmelite Convent (N. S. de Carmo) are almost on a level with the sea.1 But 'Old Pernambuco,' with its ruddy ochreish soil and its wonderfully green and grand vegetation, is now in the condition of old Goa. It is connected by a sand-strip, one league long, with the new city; and around where the sea is not, are foul mangrove swamps, natural canals of brown water and black soil, like the peat-bog south of Lough Neagh.

After turning from north to southwest, we anchored about 5 P.M. in the Lameirão, about eight miles off the port. The sailing ships were there; the weather had been rough, and they had been compelled to lie far out by the strong winds and the heavy roll of the sea, which can part the strongest cables. The aspect of the third city in the Brazilian empire from a distance is picturesque; her sons fondly compare her to the Silent Queen of the Adriatic;' and an enthusiastic Portuguese (Dr. J. M. de Lemos, in his Guia Luso-Brazileira) writes as follows:

6

VOL. LXXIII.-NO. CCCCXXXVI.

M M

with the Sea Cybele fresh from ocean,' but with humbler Bremen or old Hamburg, and we easily see the traces of the Dutch conquest in the seventeenth century. The houses are still the houses of Holland; the churches and cimborios' are the churches and domes of Portugal. The Batavian and the Latin architecture sit side by side about as congenially as Martin Luther en tête-à-tête with a certain person of Babylon, 'the tiara of proud towns,' will be, but is not yet. Of the white houses, some are one-storied, in the style of Brazil, where man does not willingly ascend flights and stairs; whilst others, six stories high, and narrow as they are tall, look as if they were turned up on one end and made into a single gable. On the top is a kind of belvidere, here called a 'torrião,' a torrião,' and used more for ventilation than for views; and below it the redchannelled roof, with its rough tiles simply laid upon, not fastened to, one another, convex upon concave, as in Lisbon, is built with the steepest possible pitch to throw off the rain. These buildings look wondrous bald and plain; there is no warmth, and the heavy balcony is at a discount. The chimneys of Batavia are absent, and wanting are the windmills of Iberia. There is not even the comfort of a 'lightning. rod.'

Close to the town there is a small wood of masts, and the foreground is an awful line of foam and spray, which makes every stranger ask his neighbour how the he is to get in? A variety of craft gathers around us-civilised lighters for landing goods and baggage, silly row-boats for the passengers, and for a royal personage on board the Galeotta da Marinha there was a

large eighteen-oared gondola, or caique, all green and gold, with a white and glass-windowed aft cabin. The black crew of the State barge were dressed in white, and on their woolly heads wore pointed silver toques. Far more of local colouring is in the other craft. The barcaça is a cross between the Dutch treykschuyt and the long canoes for which the Calhetés,1 formerly the wild lords of the land, were celebrated. They have generally two masts curving backwards; the sails are triangular-a smaller one at the bow, and another of disproportionate size just behind it. The rudder is enormous, and at each side a corkwood trunk acts at once as float and gangway. With their loads of sugar and coloured crews, they fly over the water at the rate of ten to twelve knots per hour. The barco is an undecked schooner, too high to require outriggers, and carrying the single masts and the huge triangular sail of the barcaça. But the darling of travellers is the jangada, which the comical M. Biard calls rangada." This, the catamaran of India and Arabia, is a simple float of four logs, the trunks of the Apeiba tibourbon, a kind of linden locally called Pan de jangada.

These are about ten feet long, and through their diameter of six to eight inches are thrust stout wooden pins; there are no bulwarks, but logs of corkwood,2 disposed at the sides and slightly upcurved, prevent frequent upsets. A pole bending backwards, and stepped on a frame of light perpendiculars and a horizontal board, acts as mast, supporting a large lateen of coarse canvas, which drives the thing flying over the seas; behind it, a stool of narrow plank, with four uprights, is pegged to the raft; and