322 NOTES OF A NATURALIST. 



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 vege- 

 tation 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 Alcobaga 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 fashionable 



