By Konrad Guenther
Boston 1931 Houghton Mifflin. Translated by way of B. Miall. Hardcover. eightvo, 400pp., photograph illustrations, index, fabric. VG, conceal frivolously dirty and shelf worn, no DJ.
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Extra info for A Naturalist in Brazil: The Record Of a Year's Observation of Her Flora, Her Fauna, and Her People
In the morning one lifts one's head from a wet pillow, and during even a slight exertion, such as playing the piano, one has constantly to wipe the perspiration from one's forehead. At the end of March more frequent showers, and the morning temperature once only 77°; again all things deck themselves in luxuriant green, and of a morning one walks refreshed in the moist fragrance of the there are once is gardens. In Rio de Janeiro the heat from November to February is often worse than in North-eastern Brazil the city, shut in by the hills, ; the streets glow with heat, and the nights are sleepless; until at last, after some days of torment, a thunderstorm beats up is airless, behind the peak of Tijuca, and coolness falls with the rustling rain.
Mist. Motor-boats officials comes sailing up to us. Their sails are hauled down, and we that they are full of rosy mangoes, green avocat pears, oranges, other fruits. Brown-skinned men hold up monkeys and parrots, also, I regret to say, boxes of the skins of humming-birds. Over the see and and sea, in the dissolves into white meanwhile, the sky begins to clear; the mist diaphanous clouds the slanting rays of the sun ; pour down upon sea and coast. The city yonder takes plastic shape as we look above the house-fronts rises a forest of towers and steeples to the right gleams the dome of the Benedictine abbey, with the ; two towers of ; its west front, like uplifted forefingers.
Here one may wander along the fine highway that skirts the waterside, ending in the wide sandy beach of the Praia Icarahy, unable to turn one's eyes from little tail, lashing quickly to . the spectacle of the hills of the opposite shore, with their rugged forms, tilted peaks and boldly projecting promontories, looking as though the hand of an artist had painted them on the background — of the blue sky. Rounding a promontory as green as a garden, one overlooks a quiet, hill-girt bay. At the foot of some projecting a white house with a large roof and arcaded verandahs.