LAST DAYS IN BRAZIL. 215 



theatre, extending for three-quarters of a circle, surrounded 

 by the virgin forest, which is walled round by the most 

 fantastic lofty mountains of perpendicular rock, while 

 beyond the outlet of this majestic amphitheatre lies clearly 

 mapped out every detail of the picturesque bay. Just 

 beyond the Grotto Fundo is a masterpiece of engineering 

 skill, both from the boldness of the conception and the 

 admirable manner it has been carried out, though the sight 

 almost makes one shudder. The railway is carried in 

 mid air by means of cantilevers, or girders fixed into 

 the face of a vertical rock, so that one can look out of the 

 window and touch the rock while gazing upon the green 

 forest at a dizzy depth below. 



By 5-35 we had gained the summit ; and, again chang- 

 ing engines, left the cog-wheel track, and proceeded through 

 scattered houses to the station of Petropolis, where we 

 arrived at 5.40, having thus been two hours and ten 

 minutes en route. The barometer was at 27'SO ins., and, 

 as we started at 30 ins., this gave a rise of approximately 

 2500 feet. The summit of the railway where it joins the 

 cog-wheel line is 100 feet (by aneroid) above Petropolis. 

 The air now felt very cold, and although the thermometer 

 stood at 65° (and it was 60° at 10 p.m.), my feet became 

 almost as cold as ice. It is curious to feel this effect of 

 cold with the thermometer registering a temperature that in 

 England — and even lately at Rio, in the early morning — 

 is comfortable. In England such a temperature is warm ; 

 in Rio it is cool and invigorating. I suppose this chilly 

 sensation is due to the rapid change from the comparative 

 heat of Rio to the rarer air and icy mountain breezes. 



Taking the hotel carriage, I drove in five minutes to 

 the Hotel MacDowel, now kept by Mr. Mills, an English- 

 man, where I enjoyed a good dinner, in company with 



