22 



THREE YEARS IN THE PACIFIC. 



overlooked by two or three convents, as solemn in their appear- 

 ance as the monks of their cloisters. 



On the eastern side, and nearly opposite to Rio, is a neat, 

 quiet village called Praya Grande, which, during the season of 

 amusement, is a place of general resort. It contains several 

 potteries, and is famed for the quantity of fine sweetmeats, 

 made and exported. At the southern extremity of Praya is a 

 huge mass of rocks, which, apparently, have been thrown from 

 the main land by some natural convulsion ; upon its very sum- 

 mit (a most romantic situation truly) stands a church or a 

 dwelling, accessible from the main by a short wooden bridge. 

 From this point the beach of the placid bay of Inrufuba sweeps, 

 almost like a circle, to fort Santa Cruz. Along the shore is a 

 straggling village, interspersed with gardens, and surrounded 

 by luxuriant plantations of the coffee tree. 



We have now glanced round the bay and arrived at Santa 

 Cruz, between which and the Sugar Loaf, the waters roll into 

 this magnificent harbor ; — an amphitheatre whose bounds are 

 hills rising one behind the other, valleys and mountains that 

 are smiled on throughout the year both by Flora and Pomona, 

 yielding flowers and fruits, grateful in their fragrance, and lus- 

 cious to the most refined and delicate taste. Over this sheet of 

 water, passage boats, under a press of sail, are stretching in 

 every direction, bearing parties from shore to shore. The 

 naked negro toils at his oar — the black soldier in gay costume 

 lolls in his curtained barge, wreathed in the smoke of his cigar 

 — the tatooed slave paddles his rude canoe — the barges of the 

 men-of-war, with feathering oars, are shooting from point to 

 point — the men-of-war sit majestically, and their flags and pen- 

 nants flutter proudly on the breeze — the forts and castles frown 

 sullenly — the palace smiles — the church and convent look 

 grave — the hills are lovely — the mountains grand — the grace- 

 ful palm tree nods. 



