THE BEAUTY OF BRAZIL 



and the rows of lights run onward till they reach the ocean. The 

 pearly necklace is closed ; and now the land receives a star-spangled 

 garment. 



But the signal for the last trip down is sounding. In the silence 

 of the night the car swings downward, sinking ever nearer to the 

 glittering carpet beneath it. Above, as below, is an ocean of stars. 

 One feels that one has taken leave of reality ; it is as though one 

 were floating in the pure ether of space. 



