The streets, which, with few exceptions, are very narrow, are paved with large rough stones—­they have usually a gutter in the centre, and occasionally a narrow pavement on each side.  For building purposes, unhewn granite is chiefly used, the walls being afterwards smoothed over with a layer of plaster, whitewashed, and margined with yellow or blue.  The two principal streets are the Rua Direita, the widest in the city, and the principal scene of commercial transactions, and the narrow Rua do Ouvidor, filled with shops, many of which equal in the richness and variety of their goods the most splendid establishments of European capitals.  Of these the most tempting, and the most dangerous to enter with a well-filled purse, is the famous feather-flower manufactory of Mme. Finot, where the gorgeous plumage of humming birds and others of the feathered tribe is fabricated into wreaths and bouquets of all kinds.  Although the absence of sewerage is everywhere apparent, the town is well supplied with water from numerous large fountains, filled by pipes from an aqueduct five or six miles in length, communicating with the Corcovado mountain.  One is struck with the comparative absence of wheeled vehicles in the streets of Rio.  Now and then a clumsy caleche is driven past by a negro postillion, in blue livery and jackboots, riding a second horse yoked outside the shafts, and omnibuses drawn by four or six mules, are not infrequently met with, and seem to be much patronised.

Many of the walks in the neighbourhood of the city are exceedingly beautiful; one of the pleasantest leads along the line of the aqueduct.  Here the botanist fresh from Europe, will find subjects of interest at every step, and the entomologist may revel to his heart’s content among gaudily coloured Heliconiae, Hesperiae, and Erycinae, or watch the larger butterflies of the restricted genus Papilio, slowly winging their lazy flight among the trees just beyond the reach of his insect net.  A common butterfly here (Peridromia amphinome) has the singular habit of frequenting the trunks and limbs of the trees where it rests with expanded wings, and generally manages adroitly to shift its position, and escape when swept at with the net.  Some large dark Cicadae are common among the branches, and the air often resounds with their harsh grating cries, especially towards evening.  On the trunks of various trees along the path, especially a thorny-stemmed Bombax, the pretty Bulimus papyraceus is common, with an occasional B. auris-leporis, but I never during my walks was so fortunate as to find any of the more magnificent of the Brazilian landshells—­for example, B. ovalis, a noble species, four or five inches in length, of which I have bought live specimens in the market.

Some of the lanes, in which, on one occasion I lost my way, about dusk, would have reminded me of those of the south of England on a fine autumnal eve, were it not for the scattered palms and papaw trees in the hedgerows, and the hedges themselves occasionally consisting of the coffee plant, concealing clumps of banana and sugar-cane.  The Cicadae were singing their evening hymn from the branches overhead, and in due time the fireflies came out in all their glory.