2i8 A YEAR IN BRAZIL. 



ficent valleys of the Parahyba and the Parahybuna (which 

 I have previously mentioned) to its termination. A service 

 of coaches runs every day between Petropolis and Entre 

 Rios, under the direction of Mr. John M. Morritt ; they 

 travel over this road, on which are many toll-gates, the 

 monthly receipts through tolls being about fifty contos 

 of reis ($50,000), or 4200. Our two American friends 

 have, within the last few days, made this trip, returning 

 to Rio by the afternoon train from Entre Rios, and they 

 declare that nothing can be more beautiful, or repay one 

 better, than this most enjoyable drive. 



Now, revenons d nos moutons, or, rather, to my walk. 

 After breakfast I started on foot to pay a visit to the 

 Cascatinho, a celebrated waterfall some four miles distant, 

 having previously received directions as to the route. 

 Fortunately, as it turned out, I missed my way, so had 

 the pleasure of going by one route and returning by 

 another. The way I went is evidently not much fre- 

 quented, but is by far the more interesting and wilder 

 of the two. After passing the palace, I continued straight 

 up the Rua da Imperatriz to the end, when I should have 

 turned to the left following the Quitandinha, which is a part 

 of the waters that supply the cascade ; however, I went to 

 the right, and soon left all traces of civilized houses behind, 

 and, crossing a small divide, entered a narrow gorge, 

 called Gruta das Saudades (Grotto of Earnest Longings), 

 which was most beautiful, densely wooded, with a few 

 clearings and huts. Soon the ravine widened considerably, 

 and I was vividly reminded of the side valleys of Les 

 Ormonts and Champe"ry, off the Rhone Valley in Switzer- 

 land ; further on, the scenery of Perthshire, or Pen-y-gwryd 

 near Snowdon, was brought before me ; only in these parts 

 there are trees on the summits of the highest rocks. After 



