We had been met farther out in the stream by the customs and quarantine officers, but these troubled us little, and were of much less interest to us than our third visitor, the congenial representative of the Belgian Consulate, who brought our letters and some news of interest. To us the most startling news was the story of the bold attempt to assassinate President Barros of Brazil, whose friendly hand we had shaken only a few days previous, apparently surrounded by all possible guards to perfect safety. This case, however, while somewhat startling to a stranger, illustrates one of the recognised methods for changing presidents in the Spanish American republics. The President of Uruguay was summarily disposed of in the same manner only a few months ago, while his successor is probably awaiting his turn with resigned fate. The life of a president hereabout is evidently not one of any special ease, security, or comfort. The city of Montevideo presents, even from a distance, an air of thrift, wealth, and comfort. El Cerro, a nipple-shaped mount, is the only distinguishing feature of the landscape which marks the sight of the port. It rises in a gentle slope to the height of five hundred feet, about a half mile from the rugged beach on the western side of the bay. Its sides are covered with a thin grass which is now giving place to residences, a result of the recent growth of the city. The top is crowned by a fort, and within this there rises a splendid lighthouse, whose powerful revolving light is visible at sea twenty-five miles from the coast. The main portion of the city stands upon a peninsula of gently rising ground on the east side of the bay. From here the town spreads over a large portion of the mainland and there are several prominent buildings which stand out boldly over the low houses which compose the body of the city. To one coming from Rio Janeiro or other cities in the tropics, the most noticeable feature of this city is the dense volume of smoke arising from its chimnied houses and thrifty factories: the latter are a certain sign of an agreeable climate and dry apartments--comforts foreign to torrid America.