lighted with candles swinging in glass
shades. The Brazilians are fond of music, and all the world attended
each representation, including the Emperor, Empress and Court. As I had,
in times past, seen a good deal of Don Pedro, when he was a studious,
meditative boy, at the Palace of Boto Fogo, I was somewhat curious to
observe the effect of old time's cutting scythe on the Lord's anointed,
as well as on the rest of us clay-built mortals. His face and shape of
the head had changed very little, but he had grown immensely; tall,
awkward, and verging on corpulency even now, though I believe he is only
twenty-eight years of age. His Italian wife appeared much older. Both
were well and plainly dressed, attended by some half a dozen dames and
dons of the court.

The curtain rose as the imperial party took their seats, and there were
neither vivas, nor groaning manifestations to express pleasure or
disgust, from the audience. All passed quietly and orderly, like
sensible persons, who came to hear sweet sounds, and not to be overawed
by great people. I made the tour of the donas through a capital
lorgnette, and although like Mickey Free, fond of tobacco and ladies, I
must pledge my solemn assurances, that with the exception of something
pretty, attached to the French company, there was not a loveable woman
to be seen. I doubt not but there are rare jewels to be found in out of
the way spots, secluded from public gaze, but it was terra incognita to
me, and we saw none other than the light molasses-hued damsels, who are
fully matured at thirteen, and decidedly passee at three and twenty. In
the present age it is a questionable inference if saponaceous compounds
might not be judiciously used in removing some few stains that nature is
entirely innocent of painting; albeit, a lovely Anglo-Saxon of my
acquaintance was vastly horrified at thoughts of a friend espousing one
of these cream-colored beauties, valued at a _conto_ of rais, and
shiploads of coffee; and assured the deluded swain, with tears in her
eyes, that it would require more than half his fortune to keep his wife
in soap--supposing she should acquire the weakness or ambition to become
enamored of fresh water.

CHAPTER IV.

"Uptorn reluctant from its oozy cave,
The ponderous anchor rises o'er the wave."
FALCONER.

On the twenty-ninth of October, the anchors were loosened from their
muddy beds; a light