_May 22d._—This afternoon Dr. and Mrs. C—— and myself went out for a country ramble, somewhat at a venture, it is true, but feeling sure that in the beautiful scenery about Rio we could hardly go amiss. We took one of the many ferry-boats in the neighborhood of our hotel, and presently found ourselves on the way to Botafogo. Almost all the environs of the city are built along beaches; there is the beach or Praia of Botafogo, the Praia of San Christovāo, the Praia of San Domingo, and half a dozen others, all of which mean some suburb of the town situated on the shore with a beach in front of it. As it is rather the fashion for the better class of people to live out of town, the houses and gardens in these suburbs are often delightful. We enjoyed the sail exceedingly. For a part of the way the boat keeps close under the mountains, and no description can give an idea of their picturesque outlines, or of the wonderful coloring which softens all their asperities and mellows the whole landscape. We landed at a jetty thrown out from a romantic-looking road, and as we found no carriage on the wharf, and ascertained that the boat did not return for two hours, we wandered up this road to see where chance would lead us. The afternoon would have been full of interest had it ended in the walk along the crescent-shaped bay, with the water rippling on the sands, and the mountains opposite all purple in the afternoon sunshine. The road brought us, however, to a magnificent hospital for the insane, the hospital of Dom Pedro Segundo, which we had seen and admired from the deck of the steamer on the day of our arrival. We entered the grounds, and as the great door of the building was open and the official on guard looked by no means forbidding, we ascended the steps and went in. It is difficult to imagine an edifice more appropriate for the purpose to which it is devoted. It is true we saw only the public rooms and corridors, as a permit was required to enter the wards; but a plan hanging near the entrance gave us an idea of the arrangement of the building, and its general aspect bore testimony to the cleanliness, cheerfulness, and order of the establishment. Some of the public rooms were very handsome,—especially one, at the end of which stands a statue of the boy Emperor, taken, no doubt, at the time of his coronation. In the man of forty you still recognize the frank, intelligent, manly face of the lad on whom such great responsibility was thrown at the age of fifteen. As we went up the spacious staircase, the sound of music brought us to the door of the chapel, where the evening service was going on. Patients and nurses were kneeling together; a choir of female voices was singing sweetly a calm, peaceful kind of music; that somewhat monotonous chanting, so passionless in its regular movement, which one hears in the Catholic Church; the candles were burning before the altar, but the great window just outside the door was