day, and is more particularly marked by revelry and dissipation than by morality and sacred observances. Every Sabbath morning the Largo de Nazere was the scene of a military display, performed by a brilliant cavalcade of gaily-dressed officers, and mounted citiAfter going through with a series of military evolutions on the largo, they often stopped at the Roscenia, for the purpose of refreshing themselves with fruit and wine. They were a gay and apparently happy set of fellows, very gentlemanly in their bearing, and animated and cheerful in conversation.

zens.

Politeness to strangers is one of the striking characteristics not only of the people of Para, but of the Portuguese in general. Almost everybody you meet in the street, provided you have a gentlemanly appearance, will offer you the deference of taking off his hat, and at the same time saluting you with the popular expression, Viva, senhor! or "Long live, sir!" Besides this, the Brazilians are more hospitable and social than they have ever had credit for in the books of travellers. The reason, probably, why they have been considered so distant and reserved in their manners towards foreigners, is on account of their general ignorance of all languages but their own. Those at Para who could speak English we found to be exceedingly sociable and friendly, and disposed to render us any assistance we desired.

Having been at Nazere nearly two months, we began to think seriously of taking our departure. We had made a complete collection, almost, of all the birds and animals to be found in its vicinity, besides many extraordinary insects and curious shells. We had lived quietly, in solitude, in the midst of romantic natural beauty, and had experienced, perhaps, as much pleasure as human nature is capable of. Need it be said, then, that we had become exceedingly attached to the Roscenia, and looked forward to the period of leaving it with a kind of melancholy reluctance, mingled with sorrow and gloom.

A few days before our departure we were honoured with a visit of so singular a character, that we cannot forbear giving the reader a brief description of it. It was quite early one morning that a large and motley assemblage of individuals halted before the gateway of the Roscenia. What they were, or for what purpose they came, we could not surmise. They were so ceremonious as to send a young man in advance to solicit permission of us for them to enter. We did not hesitate to grant the request, and soon discovered that our worthy visitors constituted nothing less than a religious procession, who had come out to the Largo de Nazere in order to procure donations for the benefit of the Roman Catholic church,-a small pecuniary offering being expected from everybody.

The whole number of persons who entered the Roscenia could not have been less than forty or fifty,-of which number at least one. half were women and children. In front of all marched half-a-dozen priests or padres, dressed in flowing scarlet gowns, bearing large sun-shades of dazzling red silk suspended over their heads. After these came a group of bright-eyed damsels, crowned with garlands of flowers, and profusely decorated with golden chains and glittering trinkets. In the rear of all was a number of young children, sporting with each other in all the freedom of innocence and nudity combined. With huge bouquets of splendid flowers in their hands, they

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looked like a band of little Cupids about to render deference at the court of Flora. Contrasting the striking colour of their dresses, and ornaments, and flowers, with the ever-living verdure of the overhanging trees, they constituted a brilliant spectacle, such as we had never before gazed upon.

One of the damsels, bearing a handsomely-carved salver of solid silver, presented it to us for the purpose of receiving our donations. Unfortunately we had but very little of the circulating medium on hand-merely a few vintens—all of which we threw at once upon the silver plate. Our pecuniary resources being now completely exhausted, judge of our consternation when the plate was handed to us a second time, for further contributions.

I now threw a bunch of cigars on the plate, and the result was just such as I had anticipated. Instead of taking the slightest offence at what I had done, they seized the cigars with eagerness, and I was obliged to distribute all I had in the house among them, before they would be satisfied. The cigars being all distributed, wine was asked for, with which we proceeded to supply them. But, alas! what were the two gallons of port we had purchased the day before towards satisfying such a thirsty crowd?

Before taking leave of us, a sweet little maiden handed me a miniature image of some one of the favourite saints, which she desired me to kiss. I took the image, and proceeded to do as she requested; but, by some unaccountable mistake I missed the image, and impressed a warm kiss upon the pouting lips of the youthful damsel-a sacrilege, indeed! for which I atoned by kissing the image many times! It is to be hoped that the reader will be as lenient and forgiving towards the writer for this misdeed as was the pretty maiden herself.

Shortly after this the whole party withdrew, with many thanks and benedictions, leaving us in a most deplorable condition; all our provisions being eaten, our wine drunk, and our cigars smoked.

We were sad, indeed, when we took our final leave of Nazere. It was on a mild and sunny afternoon, and all around was quiet and serene. No sounds broke upon the stillness, save the rustling of the leaves, the murmur of the insects, and the chattering of the birds. Our thoughts harmonized with the plaintiveness of the scene; for we remembered that we were relinquishing for ever the blissful garden, where we had whiled away so many pleasant hours.

Strolling slowly on towards the city, we frequently stopped for a few moments by the way, to exchange salutations with our Indian neighbours, and to tender to all the pretty maidens our parting adieu. Joaquim accompanied us as far as the Largo da Palvora, where, after shaking us each heartily by the hand, while a tear stood in his noble eye, he bade us farewell. We were extremely sorry to lose so valuable a hunter, and, in testimony of our esteem and appreciation of the services he had rendered us, we presented him with a single-barrelled gun, which we had purchased for him in the city.

It was near sunset when we arrived at Mr. Campbell's house, a lofty stone dwelling, with balconies fronting each of the upper windows. Here we intended remaining for the ensuing week; at the expiration of which time we proposed making an excursion to Caripe, a neglected though beautiful estate, situated on a small island within twenty miles of Para.

Tom Pringle is requested to be his hands to hemos f

ordor chardenden B

WHAT TOM PRINGLE DID WITH A £100 NOTE.

WITH AN ILLUSTRATION BY J. LEECH.

WHETHER a certain place, the latitude and longitude of which are more a matter of faith than of geographical certainty, be "paved with good intentions," may sometimes be doubted, seeing that a hundred pound note, the realization of the best intention in the world, and on the part of the most prudent personage in the world, has seen the light. Tom Pringle's intention, happily conceived, and brilliantly executed, was not abortive, and therefore, according to the apophthegm, was not to be found among the burnt offerings of the lower regions.

Tom Pringle was a man of purpose, as immovable as the well-worn stool that was screwed to the floor of one of "the oldest houses in the city." He formed a resolution at the end of seventeen years' assiduous clerkship-a good "intention," if you will, to become independent, and he cherished it too warmly to let it out of his own keeping, much less that it should be found among the splendid abortions with which the unchristian locality above mentioned is said to be paved.

Few men, with an ambition higher than Tom Pringle's stool, ever consent to be servants, without the lurking hope of being at some time or other master. Tom was not exempt from the aspiration. He conceived the idea, he brought it forth with much travail. He was in general somewhat of an unstable disposition. He went to his office in Threadneedle Street, at nine A. M., left at five P. M., with the precision of the postman, and somewhat with the haste of that functionary. He was getting grey in the midst of these peripatetics. It occurred to him as he occasionally ogled a bit of lookingglass thrust between the leaves of some blotting paper, that he was getting a few supplementary wrinkles. Baldness, "crows' feet" at the side of both eyes, were pretty plain indications that he was not the man he formerly was.

Tom would sometimes strive to beguile the ennui of "office hours" by a harmless flirtation with the pretty Cinderella, who usually made the office fire. She, in her turn, endured rather than permitted those little escapades. When these would become rather obtrusive, she never failed to remind him of the enormity, and of the difference between their ages. The little slattern, riant and coquettish as seventeen summers, and the privilege of poking the office fire, and a little fun at the clerk could make her, stole noiselessly out one day after a short lecture on the platonics of the clerk.

Tom could not endure that his self-love could be thus rebuked by the maiden. He was willing to attribute to the coyness of his female friends certain averted glances, which plainly hinted that "youth and age cannot yoke together," and the knowledge made him sad. Somebody has said, and with truth, if you want to see what changes time and the world may have wrought in your outward man, look the first female acquaintance you meet in the face, and her reception of you will settle the question. The little Cinderella of the office fire, did that office for Tom Pringle. He be