granite, one of which, Pao d'Acucar, the Sugarloaf of the English, rises
at once from near the water's edge to the height of 900 feet, as an
apparently inaccessible peak, and forms the well-known landmark for the
entrance.

Passing the narrows (where the width is a mile and a quarter) strongly
guarded by fortifications, of which Fort Santa Cruz, an extensive work,
with several tiers of guns occupying a rocky point, is the principal, the
harbour widens out with beautiful sandy bays on either side, and rocky
headlands covered with luxuriant vegetation. Here the view of the city of
Rio de Janeiro is magnificent. The glare of the red-tiled buildings,
whitewashed or painted yellow, is relieved by the varied beauty of the
suburbs and gardens, and the numerous wooded eminences crowned by
churches and other conspicuous public edifices. Beyond the city the
harbour again widens out to form an immense basin, studded with green
islands, extending backwards some seventeen or eighteen miles further
towards the foot of the Organ Mountains, remarkable for their pinnacled
summits, the highest of which attains an elevation of 7800 feet above the
sea.

The harbour presented a busy scene from our anchorage. The water was
alive with small craft of every description, from the large
felucca-rigged boat down to the fishing canoe simply constructed of a
hollowed-out log, and steamers crowded with passengers plied between the
city and the opposite shore. The seabreeze died away, and was succeeded
by a sultry calm; after a short interval, the grateful land wind, laden
with sweet odours, advanced as a dark line slowly stealing along the
surface of the water, and the deep boom of the evening gun echoing from
hill to hill may be said appropriately to have closed the scene.