The business men are all at home, glad to rest one day in seven from the three hours’ journey to their Rio offices and the three hours back, besides their exciting markets. Through the week they have little chance for exercise, for the only train down the mountain leaves at seven in the morning, and one cannot reach home much before seven at night. The early coffee has thoroughly wakened and fortified the system against malaria. You see with what keen pleasure the various parties start off on horseback or a-wheel. They will ride until they are healthily tired and come back to be entertained in little groups at hospitable boards. What will you do? accept the invitation and join one of the groups? or stay in your own garden, and eat your own hotel breakfast? In any case you attend the service in the hall, in company with thirty or forty others. Double this number in town are English or Americans. One of the Methodist schoolteachers plays the harmonium. Moody and Sankey hymns are sung. It is more nearly a piece of North America than anything you have seen since you left that beloved spot, but the setting is foreign, from the different wall-paper patterns to the very wide boards of very hard wood which compose the bare floor, and the foreign-looking houses you see through the window. Your missionary preacher has held a Portuguese service, attended by the poor, in the morning, and a collection keeps this English service self-supporting, so far as room-rent goes. You must make another trip to Rio. This time your first objective point will be the Botanical Garden, with its magnificent alley of palms, its more beautiful alley of bamboos, old tamarind trees and other attractions. You will not be disappointed in the beauty, but you will be surprised to find yourself there almost alone. The “bond” has taken you through interesting streets, and quite a long distance on the edge of the bay. You have skirted hills built to the top and others too steep for that. You return to the heart of town in time for a late breakfast, one o’clock, which you may have invited some friends to share at a capital restaurant on “the Ouvidor.” You climb a long flight of stairs to a large, cool, pleasant room with many open windows. Every room by law must be at least fifteen feet high, whatever its floor dimensions, and public rooms are always frescoed with old-time panels and bunches of flowers. What is the Ouvidor? A very narrow street, too narrow for vehicles, lined on both sides for seven or eight blocks with the best stores of Rio. It is also a meeting-place for politicians and newsmongers, gentlemen of leisure and fashion. When I went to Rio first in 1884 it was not proper for a woman to go in the street without some man to take care of her. She certainly could not go to shop alone in the Ouvidor as she sometimes does now.