of life. As this great society has among its members organ-builders, sculptors, and gilders, so, assuredly, there are some who patronise the stage with learning and taste; and, just as they decorate their churches with appropriate ornaments, these clear-sighted men take advantage of the world's sensual eye by an imposing theatre.
To-day I am writing in latitude forty-nine degrees. The weather promises to be fair, and even here the people complain of the coldness and wet of the past summer. The morning was cool, but it was the beginning of a glorious and temperate day. The mild atmosphere which the mighty river brings with it is something quite peculiar. The fruits are nothing very surprising. I have tasted, indeed, some excellent pears; but I am longing for grapes and figs.
My attention is riveted by the actions and principles of the Jesuits. Their churches, towers, and buildings have a something great and perfect in their plan, which imposes all beholders with a secret awe. In the decoration, gold, silver, metal, and polished marble are accumulated in such splendour and profusion as must dazzle the beggars of all ranks. Here and there one fails not to meet with something in bad taste in order to appease and to attract humanity. This is the general character of the external ritual of the Roman Catholic Church; but I have never seen it applied with so much shrewdness, tact, and consistency as among the Jesuits. Here all tends to this one end. Unlike the members of the other spiritual orders, they do not continue an old, worn-out ceremonial, but, humouring the spirit of the age, continually deck it out with fresh pomp and splendour.
A rare stone is quarried here into blocks. In appearance it is a species of conglomerate: however, it must be held to be older, more primary, and of a porphyritic nature. It is of a greenish colour, mixed
