1534 to the mouth of the River Plate, thence to Paraguay, where they appear to have settled down.

Out of the mists of the early Spanish colonization of the interior of the continent the aftermath of a sudden explosion of cordiality still remains. In the Province of Catamarca, which now belongs to the Argentine Republic, is a small village boasting the name of "Londres." This is the result of one of the farthest-flung eddies which the marriage of Mary of England to Philip II of Spain set in being. The nomenclature must have been the work of a tactful local governor. Nevertheless, considering the extreme remoteness of Catamarca from Spain, it is quite possible that, by the time the news of the marriage arrived and the name had been given, the hope of national alliance, and the cause of cordiality, had already vanished.

To what extent foreigners had been kept out of the Spanish South American dominions may be gathered from a census taken in Chile in 1788. Out of four hundred thousand inhabitants only seventy-nine were given in as foreigners. Of these, representing thirteen nationalities, there were only three who were not Roman Catholics.

It is likely enough that this list was not a complete one. It stands to reason that many complacent local officials would not care to have it on record that they were harboring too liberal a number of these strangers who were so unpopular with the highest authorities. And juggling with figures was so simple a matter under the Spanish Empire that it had become almost a hobby on the part of nearly every official, however straitlaced he might have been in other respects! Even so, it may be taken for granted that the number of strangers in Chile and elsewhere at that period were extraordinarily limited.

If this state of affairs obtained at so late a date as the end of the eighteenth century, it may be imagined how

much more severe were the conditions which applied in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In what might be termed the mid-colonial period of South America, when, Portugal having freed herself in Europe from the yoke of Spain, the great colony of Brazil reverted to the mother country, it might well have been expected that an alteration of policy would occur in this portion of the continent. But this was not so. The germ of the Spanish colonial theory had eaten too deeply into the contemporary Portuguese mind to be lightly eradicated.

Thus when the affairs of Brazil came again to be administered by the Portuguese, the foreigner who spread his sails in anxious haste to make the ports of the new Brazil met with an abrupt shock of disillusion. If the authorities were in a complacent mood, his ship might be allowed to anchor in one of the harbors and a certain amount of very guarded intercourse might be permitted. But all trips from the ship to the shore were rigidly discouraged, and this policy was applied even to those old national friends, the British. No party of foreigners, in fact, was allowed to land unless under the close and incessant supervision of an armed guard—a most unsatisfactory method of drinking in first impressions of a strange country!

It was not, indeed, until the Spanish colonies became republics, and Brazil a monarchy, that was brought about the removal of the barriers that had been set up in the face of the foreigner. Even for some decades after the independence of the continent had been achieved, the old theory of the exclusion of the foreigner persisted in one or two remote regions, notably in Paraguay.

The actual starting-point of the careers of the Englishmen in the mainland of South America is, of course, somewhat vague and difficult to determine. We have already referred to those who accompanied Pizarro and Pedro de Mendoza. They doubtless played their part manfully, but not in a fashion that left a permanent rec

ord behind them. The earliest of the English who achieved this were Jesuits. It is known that there were several English priests at Córdoba, among them being Thomas Falconer and Thomas Brown. At least one saint of the early Brazilian Church-or of the company of Jesuits in Brazil-can claim English birth. It appears that one of the most conscientious self-scourgers and wrestlers with the devil among the Jesuits in Brazil, was actually born in London in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. This was the friar João d'Almeida, whose original name was John Martin, and who is said to have been kidnapped by a Portuguese merchant when he was ten years of age. Seven years after this he was taken out to Brazil, and entered the company of Jesuits, his superior being the famous Father Anchieta.

The great repute for sanctity of which João d'Almeida soon became possessed was not lightly won. It is difficult to conceive a soul that could have been a deeper enemy of its imprisoning flesh. Indeed, the only worldly possessions in which he took the least pride were the instruments with which he was accustomed to chastise that despised flesh of his. These made up an elaborate collection. There was every possible variety of scourge, from whipcord to wire; there were hair shirts, and many varieties of the most satisfactorily painful wire cilices; there were sharp pebbles and hard grains of maize such as would promote the most comfortable of shoes from their state of ease to perdition, and then there were the natural and welcome allies of the spirit in the shape of mosquitos, fleas, and similar cordial assistants in the campaign against the cursed matter. And all this is to say nothing of the fastings carried out with so bitter a determination that the fainting body stumbled while the spirit soared!

Notwithstanding their mutual hatred, the spirit and body of this remarkable man clung together for no less than eighty-two years. At least let us say this of him,