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the only one in the world.  And now I hear
how you have had to bear for years, and that
makes me stronger."

"Bless yo!  I thought a' the good-doing
was on the side of gentlefolk.  I shall get
proud if I think I can do good to yo."

"You won't do it if you think about it.
But you'll only puzzle yourself if you do,
that's one comfort."

"Yo're not like no one I ever seed.  I
dunno what to make of yo."

"Nor I of myself.  Good bye!"

Bessy stilled her rocking to gaze after her.

"I wonder if there are many folk like her
down South.  She's like a breath of country
air, somehow.  She freshens me up above a
bit.  Who'd ha' thought that faceas bright
and as strong as the angel I dream ofcould
have known the sorrow she speaks on.  I
wonder how she'll sin.  All on us must sin.
I think a deal on her, for sure.  But father
does the like, I see.  And Mary even.  It's
not often hoo's stirred up to notice much."


FRIEDERICH VON RAUMER, the pleasantest
of historians, has invented, or rather
appropriated to himself, the pleasantest mode of
travelling.  He has performed the tour of
South America, without crossing the threshold
of his own study, and he has made such
a number of observations in the course of
his adventures, that he has deemed a full
account of his travels well worthy of
publication, in the Historical Pocket-book
(Historisches Taschenbuch) of which he is the
editor.  The fact is, he has travelled through
his library, and, by a perusal of the most
modem works on the Southern Peninsula of
the Western World, has so realised the country
to himself, that his remarks touch the
most minute particulars, and include the
most individual sensations.  He does not
take a hurried view; but he even pauses to
hear what songs are singing in the streets,
and drops into the theatres to ascertain
whether they are well attended.

Our imaginary traveller found the passage
across the Atlantic tedious, and shrewdly
observes that the sublimity of the sea is most
conveniently lauded by him who is on dry
land.  Some of his fancied fellow-passengers
were so violently sea-sick that they were not
amused by the usual pleasantries of crossing
the line, while others had no recreation save
the very "slow" one of watching the water
to see if the fish put up their heads.  For the
stars nobody cared much,—but the news
that Rio de Janeiro was close at hand caused
general joy.

The delight, however, received a check
from a calm, which rendered the vessel
unmanageable, and a thick mist which shut out
the prospect.  At last this foggy curtain,
shaken by the wind, was dispersed; part
of it blowing upwards, part downwards,
so as to disclose the loveliest sight in the
world.  There were islands covered with
woods, among which countless ships were
sailing; there were hills and mountains of
the most various shapes and sizes; and in
the foreground there was Rio de Janeiro
itself, with its churches and stately edifices.

The interior of the town, however,
disappointed our adventurous voyager, for the
unpaved streets hurt his feet, and the
atmosphere offended his nose, as he sniffed
it through his books.  Moreover, the
weather was hot, mosquitos were abundant,
and many houses had actually wooden
lattices instead of glass-panes.  The rows
of negroes who, chained together, were
employed on the public works, did not
increase the hilarity of the scene; and
though the traveller's national feeling might
have been pleased to see a body of negro
soldiers march to the Hunting Chorus in
Der Freisch├╝tz, his Prussian notions of
discipline were shocked by observing many
sentinels smoking at their post.  On the
whole, he thought the ecclesiastical far
better managed than the military processions.
Pretty-looking girls, equipped with wings on
their shoulders and high-heeled shoes, to
represent angels, struck him as pleasing
objects; although the innumerable parrots
which flew above their heads blended but
discordantly with the church-music.

In the evening our traveller regaled
himself by a visit to the theatre, which
is liberally supported by the government.
He heard Rossini's Italiana in Algieri
very respectably performed; although the
prompter was a little too loud, and the
tallow-candles used for lighting the house
ill accorded with European notions of refinement.
The audience was better behaved
than the theatrical audiences in London,
where Herr von Raumer has seen with his
own eyes, and heard with his own ears.

Rio de Janeiro presented a singular mixture
of costumes; some of the young sparks aiming
at the fashion of modern Europe, while old
folks stalked about dressed as courtiers of
the time of Louis Quinze.  As for the ladies,
they puzzled himin other words, the
contradictory accounts in his books checked the
creative power of his imagination, and he did
not know whether to set them down as
prematurely old and ugly, or as models of
feminine beauty.  At all events, it seems
they are handsome enough to induce the
Lotharios of Rio de Janeiro to wear amulets
of magnetic iron as an expedient for winning
their good graces.

Weary of Rio de Janeiro, Herr von
Raumer jumped into a merchant-ship—(in
other words, walked to another shelf of
his library)—and sailed off for Buenos
Ayres.  Here the baywhich is formed by
the mouth of the Rio de la Plata, and the
width of which is twice as great as the
distance from Dover to Calaisexcited his