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Brazil, when I observed a Portugese, about sixty years of age, enter, and demand, with great earnestness, if he thought that he could live. Soon after, a middle-aged Brazilian came, and, seeming to cling to the words of tho physician as tenaciously as to a divine oracle, made nearly the same interrogatory. Neither of these men appeared in ill-health, and, if I had not heard them state that they had grant difficulty in swallowing, I would have considered them in a perfect sanitary condition. Upon inquiry, I ascertained from the doctor, that these men had a disease which is widely prevalent in some portions of interior Brazil, but he has never seen a notice of it in any medical work whatever. The Brazilians call it mat de engasgo. The first indication of its existence is a difficulty in swallowing. The patient can swallow dry substances better than fluids. Wine or milk can bo drunk with more facility than water; still, both are , attended with difficulty. To take thin broth is an impossibility. In some cases, fluids have been conveyed to the stomach in connection with some solid. The person thus afflicted appears to be in good health, but, in five or six years, death ensues from actual starvation. The suffering of such a one was described to me as most horrible."
To as many of our readers as have a taste for descriptions of forest scenery, we can promise gratification in abundance, if they , will turn to page 277, and follow Mr. Fletcher into the blooming woods of the Si-itu dos Orgoes:—
"In the months of April and Hay (October and November in Brazil), only the autumnal tints of our gorgeous North American woods can compare with tho sight of the forest of the Scrra dos Orgoes. Then the various species of the Laurus are blooming, and the atmosphere is loaded with the richperfumcs of their tiny snowwhite blossoms. The Cassia then put forth their millions of golden flowers, while, at the same time, huge trees—whose native names would be more unintelligible, though less pedantic, than their botanic terms ofSaaiandra rontanclia, and others of the Melastoma tribe—are in full bloom; and, joining rich purple to the brightest yellow, present, together with gorgeously clothed shrubs, 'flowers of more mingled hue than her (Iris1) purpled scarf can show' From time to time, a silk-cotton tree (tho Chorisia speciosa) shoots up its lofty hemispherical top, covered with thousands of beautiful large rose-colored blossoms, which gratefully contrast with the masses of vivid green, purple, and yellow, that clothe tho surrounding trees. Floral treasures are heaped on every side. Wild vines, twisted into most fantastic forms, or hanging in graceful festoons, — passion-flowers, trumpetflowers and fuchsias in their native glory,—treeferns, whose elegance of form is only surpassed by the tall, gently curvedpalmito, which is the very embodiment of the lino of beauty .—orchids,whoso flowers arc of as soft a tint as the blossom of the peach-tree, or as brilliant as red spikes of fire,—curious and eccentric epiphytes, draping naked rocks, or the decaying branches of old forest monarch*,
—all form n scene enrapturing to the naturalist; and bewildering, with its richness, to the uninitiated, who still appreciate tho beauty and the splendor that are scattered on every side, by the Hand Divine. The overpowering sensation which one experiences, when entering an extensive conservatory filled with the choicest plants, exotics of the rarest description, and odor-laden flowers, is that (multiplied a thousand-fohlp, which filled my tnind as I gazed, for the first time, npon the landscape, with its tiers of mountains, robed in such drapery as that described above; and yet there was such a feeling of liberty, incompatible with tho sensation expressed by the word ' overpowering,' that it is impossible to define it. In tho province of Minus Geraes, from a commanding point, I once beheld tho magnificent forest in bloom; and, as tho hills and undulative plains stretched far away to the horizon, they seemed to be enveloped in a fairy mist of purple and of gold."
The notices of the geography and natural history of some of the vast regions visited by the enterprising missionaries, are full of novelty and interest. San Paulo, Bahia, Pcrnambuco, and Para, are described in a way -which will not fail to give "the untravelled" very distinct pictures of them. So, too, are the strange lands which form the basins of the Rio di Francisco and tho mighty Amazon. The references to the fauna of the Brazils, are not the least interesting portions of this work. The naturalist will see what scope there is for him in those luxuriant lands, and what promise of discovery of new species is held out to him. Among the hills which stretch away beyond the Bay of Jurujuba, the little, active, buckler-clad Armadillo, throws up the earth in which he loves to burrow, and, when disturbed, coils himself up, hedgehog-like, exposing to his enemy only a ball of mail, against which tooth of dog and beak of bird of prey, are powerless; or, when caught on the sunny slopes of the red-colored hills, he quickly assumes this ball-like form—" swallows himself," as they say—and rolls quietly down the hill as if he were a stone, or some huge cocoanut, struck by the feet of the climber. In the neighborhood of the secluded pools among the Organ Mountains, the South American Tapirs spend their harmless lives, feeding on roots, and buds, and wild fruit. The Peccari is met in flocks in the wild woods. In size much less than the tapir, the peccari has nothing of the timidity which belongs to its larger neighbor. "It is," I says Mr. Fletcher, "the most pugnacious 'fellow imaginable. Neither men nor dogs | inspire reverence, for he will attack both Iwith impunity." The Myrmecophaga, or Ant-eaters, wander about, making much esteemed havoc on the destructive ants, which I swarm in all such clirnes. "The Paca, the Capybara, and the Agouti—animals of the same family as marmots and beavers— abound. Lurking by the banks of rivers, in the dense jungle, overshadowed with species of palm-trqes, the Jaguar, or Brazilian tiger (Felix On fa), watches his opportunity for springing on his prey. In the northern province of Mato Grasso, vast numbers of monkeys are found. Skipping across the traveller's path, hanging in "lovely deformity" from the branches of the trees, and looking, with stupid grin, around him, may be seen the Said-headed Brachyurus,—the monkey which is answerable for the long-credited story of a race of Indians with tails.
Or turn we to the birds, not less varied and novel are the species found in Brazil. There are Parroti, in gayest garb, chattering among the trees; Toucans, with their huge bills, goggle eyes, and gorgeous plumage; Humming-birds, of rare beauty, sparkling in the sunshine, and sipping sweets from tube roses, jessamines, and heliotropes; Urupongas, or Tolling-bell birds, looking knowing, with their three-inch long fleshy tubercle, hanging sprucely on one side of the head, and their loud, clear, ringing note, which AVaterton affirms, may be heard at a distance of three miles; the little known Umbrella-bird, frequenting the flooded islands of the Rio Negro and of the Solimoes, with
j its umbrella-like crest, "formed of feathers more than two inches long, very thickly set, and with hairy plumes, curving over at the end—a hemi-ellipsoidal dome, completely covering the head, and even reaching beyond the point of the beak;" the Boat-bill, feeding amidst glorious groups of Victoria Seffias, and the nimble Jacana, walking on their leaves, with as sure footing as if treading the solid earth. Then there are Butterflies, "the most splendid in the world;" Bats, some small as our own, others large as the fabled-winged demons of the old naturalists. Such is the terrific-looking, blood-loving Vampire-bat. And Reptiles in abundance, varying in size from the small scorpion to the enormous Anaconda—the Sttcuruju, of the natives—which haunts the dense forests that stretch along the banks of the great rivers, measuring sometimes above thirty feet in length, and said, by the enterprising Amazon explorer Wallace, to be able to swallow horses and cattle. Is not Brazil a very paradise for a naturalist?
But the half is not told. Those who wish more information on all these topics, and on many others, we refer to the admirable book now noticed. A book which, notwithstanding its occasional idolatry of Brother Jonathan, we very heartily commend to all our readers.
Pbihcb Albert of England, has recently, at a military celebration, made a speech which is severely criticised by She English press. The following passages gave especial offence:—
"But, gentlemen, the duty of the British soldier is, unfortunately, not confined to opposing the external enemies of his country. It has been his fate sometimes to stand in arms even against his own countrymen—a mournful task, which, I trust, we shall never see again imposed upon him. In such circumstances the soldier is upheld by the consideration that, while implicitly obeying the commands of his sovereign to whom he 1ms sworn fidelity, he is purchasing for his country by his blood that eternal peace and supremacy of the law which form the only basis of the liberties as well as the prosperity of the nation. This regiment (the Royal Grenadiers) originally sprung from the Royalists who clung to Charles II. during his exile, have always proved true to their sovereign, whether they contended on the field of Sedgcmoor in defence of James II., against the Duke or Monmouth, or straggled heroically for five long years in the
cause of George III. against the revolted American provinces."
Bit. Bcist has lately communicated to the Geographical Society of Bombay some careful observations on the temperature of the Red Sea, without doubt the warmest body of water of its size on the earth. We are told that exactly in its centre lies a watery region of terrible heat. This scat of high temperature is situated in a tract rich in volcanic indications, and between 14° and 21° north latitude. Even in the winter months the water is seldom less than 80°, reaches 84° in March and April, and in May sometimes attains to 90°. September, however, is the season of greatest warmth, the temperature of both air and water rising in that month above blood-heat. At this time, a person leaning over the bulwarks of a vessel whoso deck has been lately cooled by a shower of rain, experiences a feeling like that of holding the head above a kettle of boiling water. In November, 1836, the temperature of the atmosphere being 82°, that of the water between 17° and 23° north latitude on one occasion reached 106°.
PAKT II. CHAPTER VII.
"Oh ye, who never know the joys
Fandango, ball, and rout,
Had Lucilla Sandbrook realized the effect of her note, she would never have dashed it off; but like nil heedless people, pain out of her immediate ken was nothing to her.
After the loving hopes raised by the curate's report, and after her own tender and forgiving letter, Honor was pierced to the quick by the scornful levity of those few lines. Of the ingratitude to herself, she thought but little in comparison with the heartless contempt towards Robert, and the miserable light-mindedness that it manifested.
"My poor, poor child !" was all she said, as she saw Phoebe looking with terror at her countenance; "yes, there is an end of it. Let Robert never vex himself about her again."
Phoebe took up the note, read it over and over again, and then said low and gravely, "It is very cruel."
"Poor child, she was born to the Charteris nature, and cannot help it! Like seeks like, and with Paris before her, she can see and feel nothing else."
Pho?be vaguely suspected that there might be a shadow of injustice in this conclusion. She knew that Miss Charlecote imagined Lucilla to be more frivolous than was the case, and surmised that there was more offended pride than mere levity in the letter. Insight into character is a natural, not an acquired, endowment; and many of poor Honor's troubles had been caused by her deficiency in that which was intuitive to Phoebe, though far from consciously. That perception made her stand thoughtful, wondering whether what the letter betrayed were folly or temper, and whether, like Miss Charlecote, she ought altogether to quench frer indignation in contemptuous pity.
"There, my dear," said Honor, recovering herself, after having sat with ashy face and clasped hands for many moments. "It will not bear to be spoken or thought of. Let us go to something else. Only, Phoebe, my child, do not leave her out of your prayers."
Phoebe clung about her neck, kissed and fondled her, and felt her cheeks wet with tears, in the passionate tenderness of the returning caress.
The resolve was kept of not going back to the subject, but Honora went about all day with a soft, tardy stop and subdued voice, like one who has stood beside a deathbed.
When Phoebe heard those stricken tones striving to be cheerful^she could not find pardon for the wrong that had not been done to herself. She dreaded telling Robert that no one was coming whom he need avoid, though without dwelling on the tone of the refusal. To her surprise, he heard her short, matterof-fact communication without any token of anger or of grief, made no remark and if he changed countenance at all, it was to put on an air of gloomy satisfaction, as though another weight even in the most undesirable scale were preferable to any remnant of balancing, and compunction for possible injustice were removed.
Could Lucilla but have seen that face, she would have doubted of her means of reducing him to obedience.
The course he had adopted might indeed be the more excellent way in the end, but at present even his self-devotion was not in such a spirit as to afford much consolation to Honor. If good were to arise out of sorrow, the painful seed-time was not yet over. His looks were stern even to harshness, and his unhappiness seemed disposed to vent itself in doing his work after his own fashion, brooking no interference.
He had taken a lodging over a baker's shop at Turnagain Corner. Honor thought it fair for the locality, and knew something of the people, but to Phoebe it was horror and dismay. The two small rooms, the painted cupboard, the cut paper in the grate, fhe pictures in yellow gauze, with the flies walking about on them, the round mirror, the pattern of the carpet, and the close, narrow street struck her as absolutely shocking, and she came to Miss Charlecote with tears in her eyes, to entreat her to remonstrate, and tell Robin it was his duty to live like a gentleman.
"My dear," said Honor, rather shocked at a speech so like the ordinary Fulmort mind, " I have no fears of Robert not living like a gentleman."
"I know—not in the real sense," said Phoebe, blushing, "but surely, he ought not to live in this dismal, poky place, with such mean furniture, when he can afford better."
"I am afraid the parish affords few better lodgings, Phoebe, and it is his duty to live where his work lies. You appreciated his self-denial, I thought? Do you not like him to make a sacrifice?"
"I ought!" said Phoebe, her mind taking j little pleasure in those, acts of self-devotion that were the delight of her friend. "If it be his duty it cannot be helped, but I cannot be happy at leaving him to be uncomfortable—perhaps ill."
Coming down from the romance of martyrdom, which had made her expect Phoebe to be as willing to see her brother bear hardships in the London streets, as she had herself been to dismiss Owen the first to his wigwam, Honor took the more homely view of arguing on the health and quietness of Turnagain Corner, the excellence of the landlady, and the fact that her own Cockney eyes had far less unreasonable expectations than those trained to the luxuries of Beauchamp. But by far the most efficient solace was an expedition for the purchase of various amenities of life, on which Phoebe expended the last of her father's gift. The next morning was spent in great secrecy at the lodgings, where Phoebe was so notable and joyous in her labors, that Honor drew the conclusion that housewifery was her true element, science, art, and literature only acquired, because they had been made her duties, reckoning all the more on the charming order that would rule in Owen Sandbrook's parsonage. All troubles and disappointments had faded from the young girl's mind, as she gazed round exulting, on the sacred prints on the walls, the delicate statuettes, and wellfilled spill-holder and match-box on the mantle-shelf, the solid inkstand and appurtenances upon the handsome table-cover, the comfortable easy-chair, and the bookcases, whose contents had been reduced to order due; and knew that the bedroom bore equal testimony to her skill, while the good landlady gazed in admiration, acknowledging that she hardly knew her own rooms, and promising with all her heart to take care of her lodger.
Alas! when, on the way to the station,
Honor and Phoebe made an unexpected raid to bring some last improvements, Robert was detected in the act of undoing their work, and denuding his room of even its original luxuries. Phoebe spoke not, but her face showed her discomfiture, and Honora attacked him openly.
"I never meant you to know it," he said, looking rather foolish.
"Then to ingratitude you added treachery."
"It is not that I do not feel your kindness—"
"But you are determined not to feel it!"
"No, no! only this is no position for mere luxuries. My fellow-curates—"
"Will use such conveniences of life as come to them naturally," said Honor, who had lived long enough to be afraid of the freaks of asceticism. "Here me, Robert. You are not wise in thrusting aside all that brings home to you all your little sister's love. You think it cannot be forgotten, but it is not well to cast away these daily memorials. I know you have much to make you severe—nay, morose—but if you become so, you will never do your work efficiently. You may repel, but never invite, frighten, but not soothe."
"You want me to think my efficiency dependent on arm-chairs and table-covers."
"I know you will be harder to all for living in needless discomfort, and that you will be gentler to all for constantly meeting tokens of your sister's affection. Had you sought these comforts for yourself, the case would be different; but, Robert, candidly, which of you is the self-pleasing, which the mortified one at this moment?"
Robert could not but look convicted as his eyes fell on the innocent face, with the tears just kept back by strong effort, and the struggling smile of pardon.
"Never mind, Robin," said Phoebe, as she saw his air of vexation: "I know you never meant unkindness. Do as you think right, only pray think of what Miss Charlecote says."
"She has one thing more to say," added Honor. "Do you think that throwing aside Phoebe's little services will make you fitter to go among the little children?"
There was no answer, but a reluctant approach to smile gave Phcebe courage to effect her restorations, and her whispered "You will not disturb them?" met with an affirmative satisfactory to herself.
Perhaps he felt as of old, when the lady of the Holt had struck him for his cruelty to the mouse, or expelled him for his bad language. The same temper remained, although self-revenge had become the only outlet. He knew what it was that he had taken for devoted self-denial.
"Yes, Eobin," were Miss Charlccote's parting words, as she went back to days of her own long past. "Wilful doing right seldom tends to good, above all when it begins by exaggeration of duty."
And Robert was left with thoughts such as perchance might render him a more tractable subordinate for Mr. Parsons, instead of getting into training for the Order of St. Dominic.
Phoebe had to return less joyfully than she had gone forth. Her first bright star of anticipation had faded, aud she had partaken deeply of the griefs of the two whom she loved so well. Not only had she to leave the one to his gloomy lodgings in the city, and the toil that was to deaden suffering, but the other must be parted with at the station, to return to the lonely house, where not even old Ponto would meet her—his last hour having, to every one's relief, come in her absence.
Phoebe could not bear the thought of that solitary return, and even at the peril of great disappointment to her sisters, begged to sleep that first night at the Holt, but Honor thanked her, and laughed it off. "No, no! my dear, I am used to be alone, and depend upon it, there will be such an arrear of farm business for me that I should hardly have time to speak to you. You need not be uneasy for me, dear one, there is always relief in having a great deal to do, and I shall know you are near, to come if I want you. There's a great deal in that knowledge, Phoebe."
"If I were of any use—"
"Yes, Phoebe, this visit has made you my friend instead of my playfellow."
Phoebe's deepening color showed her intense gratification. ,
"And there are the Sundays," added Honor. "I trust Miss Fennimore will let you come to luncheon, and to the second service with me."
"I will try very hard!"
For Phoebe could not help feeling like the canary, who sees his owner's hand held out to catch him after his flight, or the pony who marks his groom at the gate of the paddock. Cage and rein were not grievous, but liberty was over, and free-will began to sink into submission, as the chimneys of home came nearer, even though the anticipation of her sisters' happiness grew more and more on her, and compensated for all.
Shrieks of ccstacy greeted her; she was held fast as though her sisters feared to lose her again, and Miss Fennimore showed absolute warmth of welcome. Foreign tongues were dispensed with, and it was a festival evening of chatter, and display of purchases, presents, and commissions. The evidences of Phoebe's industry were approved. Her abstracts of her reading, her notes of museums and exhibitions, her drawing, needlework, and new pieces of music, exceeded Miss Fennimore's hopes, and appalled her sisters.
"You did all that!" cried Bertha, profiting by Miss Fennimore's absence; "I hope to goodness she wont make it a precedent!"
"Wasn't it very tiresome?" asked Maria.
"Sometimes, but it made me comfortable, as if I had a backbone for my day."
"But didn't you want to feel like a lady?"
"I don't think I felt otherwise, Maria."
"Like a grown-up lady, like mamma and my sisters?"
"Oh, examples!" cried Bertha. "No wonder Maria thinks doing nothing the great thing to grow up for. But, Phoebe, how could you be so stupid as to go and do all this heap? You might as well have stayed at home."
"Miss Fennimore desired me!"
"The very reason why I'd have read stories, and made pictures out of them, just to feel myself beyond her talons."
"Talents, not talons," said Maria. "Cats have talons, people have talents."
"Sometimes both, sometimes neither," observed Bertha. "No explanation, Phoebe, what's the use? I want to know if Owen Sandbrook didn't call you little Miss Precision P"
"Something like it."
"And you went on when ho was there?"
"Oh! what opportunities are wasted on