razilian forest is the vegetable
cordage, or _sipos_, which hang down from every branch, like slack ropes
from the rigging of a ship. Jerry and I several times could not resist
having a good swing on them, while the doctor was hunting about for his
specimens. Their roots are in the ground. They climb up a tree, then
hang over a branch and descend, and often twist upward again by their
own stem, to descend more than once again to the ground. We were shown
the nests of some diminutive bees. The nests are not so large as a
turkey's egg, while the bodies of the bees are but little thicker than
the bodies of mosquitoes. The comb is of a dark brown colour, and the
construction of the nest is somewhat like that of ants. The only
entrance is a small hole, at the mouth of which they construct a tube
turning upwards. This is regularly closed up at night, so that no damp
can enter, and it is never opened till the sun has been some time up.
The bees have no stings, but they are very brave, and will drive away
the ordinary bee from their hives. A sketch which the doctor took, and
finished up afterwards on board, will afford a better idea of the
vegetation of a Brazilian forest than any verbal account I can give.

I might go on indeed for hours describing all the wonders we saw during
our short trip. Our last excursion was to the Corcovado Mountains,
whence we looked down on the blue waters of the superb harbour of Rio,
surrounded by sandy beaches and numerous snow-white buildings, peeping
from amid the delicate green foliage which covers the bases of the
neighbouring mountains, and creeps up almost to their summits; while the
mountains are on every side broken into craggy and castellated peaks of
every varied shape; the whole forming a not easily forgotten panorama.
Once more we were on board and under weigh. The bay, as we sailed out,
was full of vessels; but the flag of Old England was not, as I should
have supposed, among the most numerous. With a fair wind we passed out
of the harbour, and stood along the coast to the southward.

CHAPTER FIVE.

ADVENTURES IN THE FALKLANDS.

The reason, I believe, why sailors in a well-regulated ship are
generally so happy, is, that they are never allowed to have an idle
moment. Mr Renshaw was always finding something for the people to do;
and when that work was finished, there was something else of equal
importance to be done. The picture our deck presented on one day will