55.
2200 : 35 0.
2300 : 36 55.
2400 : 38 40.

CROSSING THE LINE.

The forenoon of January 13th was employed in the performance of the usual ceremonies on crossing the line, a custom now happily falling into desuetude--I allude to it merely for the purpose of mentioning its unfortunate consequences in the present instance; for, although the whole proceeding was conducted with the greatest good humour, we had soon afterwards to lament the occurrence of a fatal case of pleurisy, besides another scarcely less severe, believed by the medical officers to have been induced by forcible and continued submersion in what is technically called the pond, one part of the performance which novices are obliged to submit to during these marine Saturnalia.

The most interesting occurrence in natural history during the passage, in addition to the usual accompaniments of flying fish, dolphins, physaliae and velellae, was our finding, in the neighbourhood of the equator, considerable numbers of a rare British bird, Thalassidroma leachii, a species of storm-petrel, not before known to extend its range to the tropics; it was distributed between the tropic of Cancer and latitude 5 degrees South.

As we approached the South American coast, the rates of several of our seventeen chronometers (fifteen Government and two private ones) were found to have strangely altered, thus reducing the value of our meridian distance between Madeira and Rio; this effect was ascribed to the firing of shotted guns when exercising at general quarters, a practice which in consequence was not afterwards repeated.

RIO DE JANEIRO.

January 23rd.

I shall not soon forget my first view of the shores of the new world. The morning was beautifully fine, and with a light breeze scarcely sufficient to cause a ripple on the water, we were slipping past the high and remarkable promontory of Cape Frio, which at first appeared like an island. A long beach of glittering sand stretched away to the westward, and was lost in the distance; behind this a strip of undulating country, clad here and there in the richest green, was backed by a range of distant wooded hills, on which many clumps of palms could be distinguished. Few harbours in the world present a more imposing entrance than that of Rio de Janeiro. Several islands lie off the opening, and on either side the coast range terminates in broken hills and ridges of granite, one of which, Pao d'Acucar, the Sugarloaf of the English, rises at once from near the water's edge to the height of 900 feet, as an apparently inaccessible peak, and forms the well-known landmark for the entrance.

Passing the narrows (where the width is a mile and a quarter) strongly guarded by fortifications, of which Fort Santa Cruz, an extensive work, with several tiers of guns occupying a rocky point, is the principal, the harbour widens out with beautiful sandy bays on either side, and rocky headlands covered with luxuriant vegetation. Here the view of the city of Rio de Janeiro is magnificent. The glare of the red-tiled buildings, whitewashed or painted yellow, is relieved by the varied beauty of the suburbs and gardens, and the numerous wooded eminences crowned by churches and other conspicuous public edifices. Beyond the city the harbour again widens out to form an immense basin, studded with green islands, extending backwards some seventeen or eighteen miles further towards the foot of the Organ Mountains, remarkable for their pinnacled summits, the highest of which attains an elevation of 7800 feet above the sea.

The harbour presented a busy scene from our anchorage. The water was alive with small craft of every description, from the large felucca-rigged boat down to the fishing canoe simply constructed of a hollowed-out log, and steamers crowded with passengers plied between the city and the opposite shore. The seabreeze died away, and was succeeded by a sultry calm; after a short interval, the grateful land wind, laden with sweet odours, advanced as a dark line slowly stealing along the surface of the water, and the deep boom of the evening gun echoing from hill to hill may be said appropriately to have closed the scene.

CITY OF RIO AND ITS NEIGHBOURHOOD.

Landing at the Largo do Paco, or palace square, my first favourable impressions of the city of Rio de Janeiro were somewhat lessened by the stench arising from offal on the beach, and the vicinity of the market, under the conjoined influence of a perfect calm and a temperature of 90 degrees in the shade. The palace, now used by the emperor only on court days, has two sides of the large irregular square in which it is situated, occupied by shops and other private buildings. Close by is the market, which the stranger, especially if a naturalist, will do well to visit. The variety of fruits and vegetables is great, that of fish scarcely less so. On the muddy shore in the background, the fishing canoes are drawn up on their arrival to discharge their cargoes, chiefly at this time consisting of a kind of sprat and an anchovy with a broad lateral silvery band. Baskets of land crabs covered with black slimy mud, of handsome Lupeae, and the large well-flavoured prawns, called Cameroons, are scattered about, and even small sharks (Zygaenae, etc.) and cuttlefish are exposed for sale.

The streets, which, with few exceptions, are very narrow, are paved with large rough stones--they have usually a gutter in the centre, and occasionally a narrow pavement on each side. For building purposes, unhewn granite is chiefly used, the walls being afterwards smoothed over with a layer of plaster, whitewashed, and margined with yellow or blue. The two principal streets are the Rua Direita, the widest in the city, and the principal scene of commercial transactions, and the narrow Rua do Ouvidor, filled with shops, many of which equal in the richness and variety of their goods the most splendid establishments of European capitals. Of these the most tempting, and the most dangerous to enter with a well-filled purse, is the famous feather-flower manufactory of Mme. Finot, where the gorgeous plumage of humming birds and others of the feathered tribe is fabricated into wreaths and bouquets of all kinds. Although the absence of sewerage is everywhere apparent, the town is well supplied with water from numerous large fountains, filled by pipes from an aqueduct five or six miles in length, communicating with the Corcovado mountain. One is struck with the comparative absence of wheeled vehicles in the streets of Rio. Now and then a clumsy caleche is driven past by a negro postillion, in blue livery and jackboots, riding a second horse yoked outside the shafts, and omnibuses drawn by four or six mules, are not infrequently met with, and seem to be much patronised.

Many of the walks in the neighbourhood of the city are exceedingly beautiful; one of the pleasantest leads along the line of the aqueduct. Here the botanist fresh from Europe, will find subjects of interest at every step, and the entomologist may revel to his heart's content among gaudily coloured Heliconiae, Hesperiae, and Erycinae, or watch the larger butterflies of the restricted genus Papilio, slowly winging their lazy flight among the trees just beyond the reach of his insect net. A common butterfly here (Peridromia amphinome) has the singular habit of frequenting the trunks and limbs of the trees where it rests with expanded wings, and generally manages adroitly to shift its position, and escape when swept at with the net. Some large dark Cicadae are common among the branches, and the air often resounds with their harsh grating cries, especially towards evening. On the trunks of various trees along the path, especially a thorny-stemmed Bombax, the pretty Bulimus papyraceus is common, with an occasional B. auris-leporis, but I never during my walks was so fortunate as to find any of the more magnificent of the Brazilian landshells--for example, B. ovalis, a noble species, four or five inches in length, of which I have bought live specimens in the market.

Some of the