56 Through the BraziHan Wilderness 



high walls, inside of which trees rose, many of them 

 fragrant. We wandered through the wide, dusty streets, 

 and along the narrow sidewalks. It was a hot, still 

 evening; the smell of the tropics was on the heavy De- 

 cember air. Through the open doors and windows we 

 caught dim glimpses of the half-clad inmates of the 

 poorer houses; women and young girls sat outside their 

 thresholds in the moonlight. All whom we met were 

 most friendly: the captain of the little Brazilian garrison; 

 the intendente, a local trader ; another trader and ranch- 

 man, a Uruguayan, who had just received his newspaper 

 containing my speech in Montevideo, and who, as I gath- 

 ered from what I understood of his rather voluble Span- 

 ish, was much impressed by my views on democracy, 

 honesty, liberty, and order (rather well-worn topics) ; 

 and a Catalan who spoke French, and who was accom- 

 panied by his pretty daughter, a dear little girl of eight 

 or ten, who said with much pride that she spoke three 

 languages — ^Brazilian, Spanish, and Catalan ! Her father 

 expressed strongly his desire for a church and for a 

 school in the little city. 



When at last the wood was aboard we resumed our 

 journey. The river was like glass. In the white moon- 

 light the palms on the edge of the banks stood mirrored 

 in the still water. We sat forward and as we rounded 

 the curves the long silver reaches of the great stream 

 stretched ahead of us, and the ghostly outlines of hills 

 rose in the distance. Here and there prairie fires burned, 

 and the red glow warred with the moon's radiance. 



Next morning was overcast. Occasionally we passed 

 a wood-yard, or factory, or cabin, now on the eastern, 



