1836.] PERNAMBUCO. 487 



beauties which unite these into one perfect scene must fade 

 away ; yet they will leave, like a tale heard in childhood, a 

 picture full of indistinct, but most beautiful figures. 



August 6th. — In the afternoon we stood out to sea, with 

 the intention of making a direct course to the Cape de 

 Verd Islands. Unfavourable winds, however, delayed us, 

 and on the 12th we ran into Pernambuco — a large city on 

 the coast of Brazil, in latitude 8" south. We anchored out- 

 side the reef; but in a short time a pilot came on board 

 and took us into the inner harbour, where we lay close to 

 the town. 



Pernambuco is built on some narrow and low sand-banks, 

 which are separated from each other by shoal channels of salt 

 water. The three parts of the town are connected together by 

 two long bridges built on wooden piles. The town is in all 

 parts disgusting, the streets being narrow, ill-paved, and 

 filthy; the houses, tall and gloomy. The season of heavy 

 rains had hardly come to an end, and hence the surrounding 

 country, which is scarcely raised above the level of the sea, 

 was flooded with water; and I failed in all my attempts to 

 take long walks. 



The flat swampy land on which Pernambuco stands is 

 surrounded, at the distance of a few miles, by a semicircle 

 of low hills, or rather by the edge of a country elevated 

 perhaps two hundred feet above the sea. The old city of 

 Olinda stands on one extremity of this range. One day I 

 took a canoe, and proceeded up one of the channels to visit 

 it ; I found the old town from its situation both sweeter 

 and cleaner than that of Pernambuco. I must here com- 

 memorate what happened for the first time during our 

 nearly five years' wandering, namely, having met with a 

 want of politeness ; I was refused in a sullen manner at two 

 different houses, and obtained with difficulty from a third, 

 permission to pass through their gardens to an uncultivated 

 hill, for the purpose of viewing the country. I feel glad that 

 this happened in the land of the Brazilians, for I bear them 

 no good will — a land also of slavery, and therefore of moral 

 (jf-basement. A Spaniard would have felt ashamed at the 



'•ry thought of refusing such a request, or of behaving to a 



t ranger with rudeness. The channel by which we went to 

 and returned from Olinda, was bordered on each side by 

 mangroves, which sprang like a miniature forest out of the 



■reasy mud-banks. The bright green colour of these bushes 



ilways reminded me of the rank grass in a churchyard; 



