ship-the English chapel. They have been very unfortunate in the appointment of their chaplains. These appointments, and those of a diplomatic and political character, emanate substantially from the same source. Warm, devoted piety, in its unobtrusive meekness, seems to be overlooked in the glare of other qualities, or the erring partialities of private friendship. The last chaplain who served here for a time and left, went into one of the West India islands and set up a gaming-table. The English chaplain at Trieste, as I had occasion to observe, was one of the most accomplished waltzers in the place. Such men have their place, perhaps, in this varied world, but it is not in the missionary field. He will bring very few sheaves home with him who has converted his sickle into a fiddle-bow; and he will find even these few made up mostly of those tares which the devil sowed while he frolicked or slept.

MONDAY, JAN. 12. A Brazilian gentleman of some note sent his card over the side of our ship this morning, and was invited on board by Capt. Du Pont, who received him and his lady at the gangway. He was tall, well-proportioned, and in his carriage combined dignity with ease. His dark locks rolled out from under his chapeau in rich profusion. His face had that calmness and strength in its features which express force of intellect and benignity of heart. His

dress was rich, but not gaudy; sable in hue, and well fitted to his stately person. He spoke in French, with a slight Brazilian accent. His questions were relevant and shrewd; his admiration of our frigate undisguised.

His lady was slightly below him in height, and more delicate in form. There was something peculiarly feminine in her air, and yet something which betrayed strength of character. Her small foot rose and lit on the deck with precision and airy lightness. Her countenance constantly changed in the tide of its expressions. The features were extremely regular, but you forgot their well-defined lines in the harmony of the whole. Her eyes were large, soft, and floating, and were shaded by long silken lashes, from which light and darkness seemed to fall. When some thought of deep animation struck her, the emotion flushed in her cheek like the blush of morn on a soft cloud. Her voice, though not deep, was musical, and flowed like the low sweet warble of a bird. Such was she, and such the one in whom her affections confided. They left the ship as they came, without ostentation. I have been told since that he is one of the first statesmen in Brazil.

TUESDAY, JAN. 13. Visited the shore for the last time, as we are to weigh anchor to-morrow morning. Walked through Rua d'Ouvedor, the

Broadway of Rio, which displays in its fancy shops the fabrics and fashions of foreign capitals; and where you can purchase every thing from a camel's hair shawl to a shoe-string, and from a Damascus blade to a toothpick.

Crossed into the Rua d'Ourives, which flashes with all the jewels of Brazil. Their rays bewilder the eyes, and sometimes the wits. Doubloons, that are wanted for bread, are here parted with for a little pebble, that has nothing to recommend it but its light, and even that is a stolen ray. When Franklin's niece wrote to him at Paris to send her some ostrich feathers for her winter bonnet, the republican minister wrote her-"Catch the old rooster, my child, and pull the feathers out of his tail, they will do just as well." What is true of the rooster's feather, in comparison with the plume of the ostrich, is equally true of the common pebble by the side of the diamond. The brightest ray is that which flashes from intellect; the warmest that which melts from the heart.

Of the hotels in Rio the best is the Pharoux-an extensive establishment, under Parisian arrangements, and evincing a great want of cleanliness. If by good fortune your tester-bar keeps out the musqueto, you fall into the hands of a still worse enemy in the shape of the flea. Besides these annoyances, the night tubs, emptied on the beach of the bay,

waft to your window odors which make you prefer heat to air. The goddess Cloacina ought to visit. this place and order her altars under ground, where they belong, instead of having them transported on the heads of negroes, under the shadows of nigh and sending up their exhalations, which are enoug. to make the man in the moon hold his nose. But

let that pass.

Flowers spring from corruption.

Man pollutes, but nature purifies.

A spirit of freedom is gradually working its way into the heart of the Brazilians. They have made a vast stride in constitutional liberty within the last twenty years. Their government has ceased to be a despotism. Its functions now embody the energies of the public will; its measures look to the welfare of the great masses. The throne merely holds in check the leaders of factions, without wantonly impairing the freedom of the patriotic citizen. Should the period arrive, when monarchical forms can safely be dispensed with, and the public will tranquilly work itself out in the shape of law, Brazil will take her station among free republics.

As the old cathedral clock struck eleven, and the lights in the balconies grew dim, the barge of our commodore, in which we had been invited to take a seat, parted from the strand of Rio. Again on deck, a farewell look was thrown to its hills, sleeping in the soft moonlight. On those hills a Byron, a Cook,

a Magellan have gazed. The morn still breaks over them, but they know it not. The world may still retain a faint echo of their fame, but where are they? and where, in a few years, shall we be? where are the millions, whose voices rang through the past? Death has hushed their exulting tunes, and their monuments have crumbled under the footstep of time. And we are passing to the same silent shore. As the furrows of our keel pass from the face of the deep, so will the strife, the sorrows, and the triumphs of our being, glide from the memory of man.

"What shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue !"