Tempted from point to point, by one new object of admiration or another, we were led two miles amid this luxury of beauty before aware of it, almost to the very sources of the work. At one point, from the impossibility of securing space in the face of the precipice for stone work, the water is led along in small wooden troughs, and the footpath, constructed of planks supported by strong bolts of iron fastened into the rock, is suspended in the air, with a frightful depth beneath. There is no particular spring or fountain head, from which there is a supply of water, but from the beginning of the aqueduct, the smallest streamlet that trickles down the mountain summit is carefully collected by side troughs, and the drippings of every crevice, as well as the gushings of more abundant springs, fully secured.
This aqueduct is a magnificent work for the period at which it was constructed—a hundred and thirty years ago. It is of solid granite with a semicircular bottom for the water-course, and is four feet in width and the same in height; at places entirely above, and at others partially beneath the ground. It is capped with granite in the form of a roof, is furnished with ventilators protected by iron gratings at regular intervals, and is accessible for the use of the water at different points, by doors under lock and key. The honor of having projected and accomplished so important a work is due to Albuquerque, captain-general of the province at the period—1719-23. A record of this is made on a tablet on the front of the fountain of the Carioca, near the convent of San Antonio, above which is the reservoir in which the work terminates. The inscription is of a rudeness of outline and execution characteristic of the art of writing in Brazil a century ago; and undecipherable, except by an antiquarian like Dr. Walsh, familiar, from his favorite studies, with the abbreviations and readings without a division into syllables and words, of olden times.
The following is the translation of this inscription as given by Dr. Walsh. “In the reign of the high and powerful king Don John the Fifth, Ayres de Saldanha and Albuquerque, being governor and captain-general of this place, by his directions this work was made, which was begun in the year 1719 and completed in the year 1723.”
The most magnificent and costly section of the aqueduct—and one which the now well-known principle in hydraulics, that water will rise to the level of its head, shows to have been useless both in labor and expense—is a lofty arcade, a conspicuous ornament of the city, by which the aqueduct is carried across a deep valley from the hill of Santa Theresa to that of San Antonio opposite. It consists of two ranges of arches one above the other, the lower six hundred and the upper eight hundred and forty feet in length, and forty feet in height. Next to the Roman remains of the Pont du Garde in Languedoc, the aqueduct across the Alcantara at Lisbon, and the High Bridge at Harlem, it is the finest structure of the kind I have seen.
It was near sundown before we reluctantly turned our backs upon the surprising beauty which still enticed us forward. By a forced march we accomplished the stony and staircase descent through the woods, while there was yet sufficient daylight to make good our footsteps over the rough and slippery way. Safely at this point, though the night soon gathered around us, we had no difficulty in keeping the path under the brilliant starlight of the evening, and reached the city at eight o’clock, having accomplished the trip of twenty-two miles in six hours.
CHAPTER XI.
Rio de Janeiro.
November 9th.—Saturday more than any other is a day trying to my spirits. It is that which I appropriate to special preparation for my professional duties on the Sabbath; and with it, the hardness and seeming barrenness of my field of labor is, unavoidably, brought painfully to view. The moral condition of our ship is equal, probably, if not in advance of that of men-of-war in general, in our own or any other service; and the discipline and general order on board good. Indeed, we regard ourselves, and are regarded by others around us, in these respects as a peculiarly favored and a happy ship. But mere external propriety of conduct does not satisfy my expectation, or meet my hopes. I look for evidences of higher results, from the preaching of the Gospel and other means of religious influence established among us, but look in vain; and instead, especially when in port, find daily discouragements which would lead a spirit, less elastic than my own, utterly to despair of being instrumental in any spiritual good.
During the last fortnight, the crew in successive detachments have been on shore, on a general liberty of forty-eight hours. The drunkenness and debauchery of many, incident to this, unavoidably obtruded on my notice in a greater or less degree, have filled my heart with sadness, and my lips—at the end of a ministry of six months—with the desponding language of the prophet, “Who hath believed our report? and to whom hath the arm of the Lord been revealed?” This has not escaped the observation of the men themselves, and yesterday, one of them as spokesman of a group with whom I fell into conversation, said to me—“We are afraid, Mr. S——, that you will become so disgusted with our wickedness that you will leave the ship, and give us up to the devil altogether: but we hope not.” To do this would be to act the part of a coward and a traitor; and knowing in whom alone is the sufficiency for these things, I must still labor—bear and forbear—preach with fidelity and love, pray without fainting, and hope against hope.