It is difficult to write temperately of Rio de Janeiro. There is such a rare combination here of the primitive and the progressive, of the oriental and occidental, that one is inclined to go off into exclamation points. On the Avenida Central one sees numbers of street venders carrying all kinds of wares on their heads and pulling all sorts of carts, making their way in and out among the automobiles, and handsome victorias PULLED BY MULES. We note also all types of people. The Latin features predominate, but the negro is in evidence, the Indian features are often recognized, and mingled with these are seen faces representing all nations. One is impressed with the dress of the people. Who is that handsomely-groomed, gentleman passing? From his fine clothes you think he must be a man of wealth and influence. Who is he? He is a barber. That one over there is a clerk. But why these fine clothes? Ah! thereby hangs the tale. Appearance is worshiped. Parade runs through everything, even in the prevailing religion, which, alas, is little more than form--parade. Don't get the idea that everybody is finely dressed and that every handsomely-dressed man is a barber. Many are able to afford such clothes and are cultured gentlemen. One notices most the dress of the lower classes, the most striking article of which is the wooden-bottom sandals into which they thrust their toes and go flapping along in imminent peril of losing the slippers every moment. The remainder of the clothing worn by these beslippered people consists often of only two thin garments. Certainly this is a place of great contrasts. But somehow these contrasts do not impress one as being incongruous. They are in perfect keeping with their surroundings. Rio is really a cosmopolitan city and is a pleasant blending of the old and the new. There are several places from which splendid views of the city can be had, but none of them is comparable to the panorama which stretches out before one when he stands on the top of Mt. Corcovado. The scene which greets one from this mountain is indescribable. The Bay of Rio de Janeiro, with its eighty islands, Sugar Loaf Mountain, a bare rock standing at the entrance, the city winding its tortuous way in and out between the mountains and spreading itself over many hills, the open sea in the distance and the wild mountain scenery to the back of us, constitute a panorama surpassingly beautiful. Nictheroy lies just across the bay. We went over there one night and spoke in the rented hall where our church worships, and spent the night in the delightful home of the Entzmingers. The next morning, before breakfast, Dr. Entzminger showed me over the city. Nictheroy has forty thousand inhabitants and is the capital of the State of Rio de Janeiro. It is a beautiful city and offers a wide field for missionary work. Its importance is apparent.