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or a majestic site. A traveller has no need of being a botanist to recognize the torrid zone, on the mere aspect of its vegetation; and without having acquired any notions of astronomy, without any acquaintance with the celestial charts of Flamstead and De le Caille, he feels he is not in Europe, when he sees the immense constellation of the Ship, or the phosphorescent clouds of Magellan, arise on the horizon. The heaven and the earth, every thing in the equinoctial regions assumes an exotic character.

We saw distinctly, for the first time, the cross of the south only, on the night of the 4th and 5th of July, in the sixteenth degree of latitude; it was strongly inclined, and appeared, from time to time, between the clouds, the centre of which, furrowed by uncondensed lightnings, reflected a silver light.

The pleasure we felt on discovering the southern cross, was warmly shared by such of the crew as had lived in the colonies. In the solitude of the seas, we hail a star as a friend, from whom we have been long separated. Among the Portuguese and the Spaniards, peculiar motives seem to increase this feeling; a religious sentiment attaches them to a constellation, the form of which recalls the sign of the faith, planted by their ancestors in the deserts of the new world.

The two great stars which mark the summit and the foot of the cross, having nearly the same right ascension, it follows that the constellation is almost perpendicular at the moment it passes the meridian. This circumstance is known to every nation that lives beyond the tropics, or in the southern hemisphere. It has been observed at what hour of the night in different seasons the cross of the south is erect, or inclined. It is a timepiece that advances very regular near four minutes a day; and no other group of stars exhibits to the naked eye, an observation of time so easily made. How often have we heard our guides exclaim, in the Savannas of Venezuela, or in the desert extending from Lima to Truxillo, "Midnight is past, the cross begins to bend."

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VIEW AT MEXICO.

(The same)

OLD Mexico is a city that attracts the notice of Europeans from its curious situation, as well as from the remembrances attached to its name. It is placed on a plain, the height of which above the bed of the sea is 6,900 feet, near the banks of the lakes Tezcuco and Chalco, which are about ninety miles in circumference; the waters of the latter are salt, of the former fresh: they communicate with each other, and contain only two sorts of fish, one of which is of a very peculiar organization.

The city, at a distance, appears to rise from the waters of the former lake; the banks of which are beautified with the most enchanting village. On the opposite side of the lake a luxuriant and highly-cultivated valley is contrasted with the towering summits of the enormous mountains, emitting flame and smoke, in regions where eternal snow and winter reigns. This extensive plain is covered with flax, hemp, cotton, tobacco, sugar, indigo, &c.; and furnishes the markets of the city with abundance of vegetables, meat, fruits and poultry, and reaches to the mountains, whose bases repose on its bosom. These mountains are diversified into every form that imagination presents, and are clothed with cedars, shrubs and plants, and contain precious jewels and minerals in their bowels. The plain extends on all sides of the city, and of the lakes Tezcuco and Chalco; but on the eastern side of the latter it is not so prolific, owing to the saline exhalations from the waters. On the lower parts of the mountains are seen farms, country-seats, and romantically situated cottages; and the whole plain appears well watered by numerous canals and rivulets. Near the suburbs, to the north of the town, is the promenade, or Alameda; it is surrounded by a rivulet, and is in the shape of a large square, with a basin of water and fountain in the centre. From this basin eight walks strike out, each bordered by two rows of trees; there are also several other public walks, but the ground, in the immediate neighbourhood of Mexico is full of rivulets and canals, and rather swampy.

About a league from the city is seen the rock of the warm baths.

The village of Trespana appears in the view, and is also a place of great resort, the air being thought very wholesome and pure. On the hill in the environs, where there was formerly a palace of Montezuma, is the great aqueduct of Chapultepec, which conveys water to the city; in length it is about 9,000 feet. The water of thi is, however, not so pure as that of the aqueduct of Sant a Fe, which is 38,000 feet in length, and which runs along the Alameda, but is not considered so beautiful a structure as the former, as the water is not conveyed the whole way over arches.

The surrounding scenery of Mexico is in all respects highly beautiful and singular; from it are seen the summits of some of the loftiest mountains of North America, and the varied foliage of the cypress, the avenues of elms and poplars, which branch to the city from all quarters, the gardens of oranges and European fruits, the deep verdure of the plain, the golden tint of the ripening corn, and the different shades of the various Mexican plants, convey, through the medium of a pure and cerulean atmosphere, the utmost delight to the eyes of the beholders. The valley in which the city and its neighbourhood rests, is filled with villages and towns, and surrounded with enormous masses reposing on the great plain; two of which, Popocateptl and Iztaccihuatl, are the most remarkable of the group; the first is continually vomiting fire and smoke, though covered with snow. The Pico de Orisaba is also visible, and forms a grand feature of the scene. On the west of the city the chain is very high and continuous.

SCENERY AMONG THE CORDILLERAS.
(Letters from Paraguay.)

THE writer observes, "we now came to a valley among

the Cordilleras of about a mile and a half in diameter, surrounded on all sides by stupendous rocks, forming altogether an enchanting amphitheatre. On entering it, the eye was struck with the view of a scene

that beggars all description: an evergreen plain so delightfully intermixed with odoriferous plants, shrubs, and flowers, that we might have fancied our arrival in a Mahometan paradise. In the centre of this fairy land rise several fountains, which threw their water into the air to a surprising height, when they formed by their fall a thousand meandering streams, which, after repeated windings and turnings, united in one stream pouring into a large river about half a mile distant. This delightful scenery occupied all my thoughts for some time, even after I had reached St. Jago, for I had taken up and brought safely with me four most beautiful shrubs, such as I had never seen before, and all of them in full bloom.

This interesting writer describes other scenery equally worthy of attention.

"The passage of the Cordilleras, whence 200 rivers run, affords some information more new to us than the com mon-place descriptions of the difficulties of their precipitous tracts. The river Mendoca, from which the city receives its name, takes its rise in the Eastern part of the Cordilleras, from which it descends, increasing as it falls, by many small rivulets; and the rapidity with which it descends, has enabled it to force a passage of about sixteen feet wide, through a mountain of chalk making a sort of arched cave, the roof of which forms a bridge of nearly the same breadth as the aperture: immediately under the bridge, at about twenty feet from the top of the arch, upon an horizontal plane, out of a smooth rock, rise five different fountains of extremely hot water, possessing many medicinal virtues: the water is thrown up as high as the top of the arch, when, as it falls, it mingles with the river, from which the moment before it had seemed to rise. The combat of those opposite waters on the humidity of the air above, produces the most beautiful chrystallization, in almost every kind of figure the imagination can possibly conceive: from between the larger objects are continually falling drops as big as hazel nuts, which resting on the bed of rock below, presently become petrified, and present to the eye one of the most extraordinary pictures that nature in all her varieties has, perhaps, been known to display

to the eye of the painter, or to reward the researches of the natural philosopher.

To

BRAZILIAN SCENERY.

(Brackenridge's Voyage.)

describe the richness, variety, and beauty of nature as she appears in these countries, is impossible. Nothing so much strikes the stranger with wonder, as the luxuriant garb with which the earth is clothed in tropical climates; he sees plants and trees entirely new to him, or the few that he has known rising here to a gigantic size; shrubs have become trees, and humble herbs enlarged to shrubs. He sees here in their native splendour, those productions of the vegetable kingdom, which he was accustomed to admire in hothouses. Among the most conspicuous are the palms, of many different kinds, the opuntia, and others so often described by travellers in these regions; pyramids of the most beautiful flowers, besides a number of aromatic plants, shed a delightful fragrance; and, as if nature was not satisfied with the exuberance of the earth, a numerous race of parasites attach themselves to the boughs and trunks of trees, receiving their nourishment from the air. The whole forms a solid perennial impenetrable mass, bound together with innumerable vines or creeping plants.

Nature seems no less prolific in animated creatures-birds of the most brilliant plumage and the most melodious song-thousands of insects of the most beautiful colours fill the thickets.

The scenery around the bay, is like that on the borders of some extensive lake; on the eastern side, instead of the immense mountains which enclose it on every other, the country is beautifully sloping, and with the aid of a spy-glass we could discover plantations of coffee, or cotton, on a much larger scale than any we had seen in the course of our walk. Towards the northeast, at a great distance, we could discern the Organ mountains, so called from a number of singular peaks, apparently at the termination of the ridge from their

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