Brazilian Sketches | Page 7

must lessen materially the amount of strong drink consumed by the Brazilian. Nevertheless, that amount of strong drink is, alas, altogether too great.
The greatest nuisance on the streets of Rio, or any other city of Brazil, is the lottery ticket seller. These venders are more numerous and more insistent than are the newsboys in the United States. There are all sorts of superstitions about lotteries. Certain images in one's dreams at night are said to correspond to certain lucky numbers. Dogs, cats, horses, cows and many other animals have certain numbers corresponding to them. For instance, if one should dream tonight about a dog, he would try tomorrow to find a lottery ticket to correspond in number with a dog. Say the dog number was thirty-seven. This man would try to find a ticket whose number ends in thirty-seven. Such a ticket would be considered lucky. The ticket sellers often call out as they pass along the street the last two numbers on the tickets they have to sell, and if a man hears the number called which corresponds to the animal he dreamed about last night, he will consider it lucky and buy. There are also many shops where only lottery tickets are sold. No evil has more tenaciously and universally fastened upon the people than has the evil of gambling in lotteries. There are 310 Federal lotteries, besides many others run by the various States. These 310 lotteries receive in premiums the enormous sum of $19,399,200 every month--about one dollar for every individual in Brazil. A portion of the profits amassed by the lottery companies is devoted to charity, a portion to Roman Catholic churches and a portion goes to the government. Even after these amounts are taken out, there is ample left for the enrichment of the companies' coffers to the impoverishment of many very needy working people.
It is difficult to write temperately of Rio de Janeiro. There is such a rare combination here of the primitive and the progressive, of the oriental and occidental, that one is inclined to go off into exclamation points. On the Avenida Central one sees numbers of street venders carrying all kinds of wares on their heads and pulling all sorts of carts, making their way in and out among the automobiles, and handsome victorias PULLED BY MULES. We note also all types of people. The Latin features predominate, but the negro is in evidence, the Indian features are often recognized, and mingled with these are seen faces representing all nations. One is impressed with the dress of the people. Who is that handsomely- groomed, gentleman passing? From his fine clothes you think he must be a man of wealth and influence. Who is he? He is a barber. That one over there is a clerk. But why these fine clothes? Ah! thereby hangs the tale. Appearance is worshiped. Parade runs through everything, even in the prevailing religion, which, alas, is little more than form--parade. Don't get the idea that everybody is finely dressed and that every handsomely-dressed man is a barber. Many are able to afford such clothes and are cultured gentlemen. One notices most the dress of the lower classes, the most striking article of which is the wooden-bottom sandals into which they thrust their toes and go flapping along in imminent peril of losing the slippers every moment. The remainder of the clothing worn by these beslippered people consists often of only two thin garments. Certainly this is a place of great contrasts. But somehow these contrasts do not impress one as being incongruous. They are in perfect keeping with their surroundings. Rio is really a cosmopolitan city and is a pleasant blending of the old and the new.
There are several places from which splendid views of the city can be had, but none of them is comparable to the panorama which stretches out before one when he stands on the top of Mt. Corcovado. The scene which greets one from this mountain is indescribable. The Bay of Rio de Janeiro, with its eighty islands, Sugar Loaf Mountain, a bare rock standing at the entrance, the city winding its tortuous way in and out between the mountains and spreading itself over many hills, the open sea in the distance and the wild mountain scenery to the back of us, constitute a panorama surpassingly beautiful.
Nictheroy lies just across the bay. We went over there one night and spoke in the rented hall where our church worships, and spent the night in the delightful home of the Entzmingers. The next morning, before breakfast, Dr. Entzminger showed me over the city. Nictheroy has forty thousand inhabitants and is the capital of the State of Rio de Janeiro. It is a beautiful city and offers a wide field for missionary work. Its