We had a favourable voyage back to Pernambuco, where we found the repairs of the _Triton_ just completed. Captain Frankland was of course very anxious not to lose a day after this was done, so as soon as the cargo could be restowed we bade farewell to Mr Robarts and our other kind friends, and with a light wind stood out of the harbour. Our destination was Rio de Janeiro, the capital of the Brazils. I shall not forget the magnificent sight which met my eyes, as one bright afternoon we glided through a narrow entrance into its superb harbour. We appeared to be sailing up a large lake, extending as far inland as the eye could reach, and surrounded with lofty mountains of many different and picturesque shapes. On either side were walls of granite, rising sheer out of the water to a height of nearly 2000 feet, while behind them rose the vast Sugar-loaf Mountain, and a number of other lofty and barren peaks towering up clear and defined against the blue sky. Like mighty giants they surround the harbour, the ground at their bases sloping towards the water, and sprinkled with pretty villages, and quintas, and orange-groves, and covered with the most luxuriant vegetation. A picturesque fort guards the entrance to the bay. Passing it, after sailing about four miles, we dropped our anchor among a crowd of vessels carrying the ensigns of nearly all the civilised nations of the world, before the city of Rio, which, built on a flat extending two miles from the hills, appeared on our left hand. As our stay was to be short, the captain allowed Gerard and me to accompany the doctor on shore at once. He himself went with us, and introduced us to a merchant, who kindly undertook to show us about the place. "There, go and see all you can, and give me an account of what you have seen when you return on board," were his parting words.