It is customary for local merchants who employ European clerks--and there are many English, French, and Brazilians in Rio who do so,--to give them a fixed salary, quite moderate in amount, and to furnish them with lodgings also. The latter are of a very rude and undesirable character, in the business establishment itself, either over the store, or in the back part of it. The bedding which is furnished is of a makeshift character, rarely changed, and never properly aired. Exceedingly uncleanly domestic arrangements, or the entire absence of them, are also a serious matter in this connection, from a sanitary point of view. The clerks get their food at some neighboring restaurant, and contract irregular habits, all of which is both mentally and physically demoralizing. It is among this class of foreigners that the yellow fever finds the most ready victims. To sleep in these crowded business centres, in ill-ventilated apartments, with far from cleanly surroundings, is simply to provoke fatal illness, and during an epidemic of fever these places furnish fuel for the flames. Neatness and cleanliness among domestic associations in this city are entirely lost sight of and are totally disregarded by men and women.
The Rua Direita is the State Street or Wall Street of Rio; a new name, which escapes us at this moment, has been given to it, but the old one is still the favorite and in common use. Here brokers, bankers, and commission merchants meet and bargain, and fiercely speculate in coffee. The principal shopping street is the Rua de Ouvidor, where the best stores and choicest retail goods are to be found. In the Rua dos Ourives,--"Goldsmith's Street,"--the display of fine jewelry, diamonds, and other precious stones recalls the Rue de la Paix of Paris. Diamonds are held at quite as high prices as in London or New York, and those of the best quality can be bought better at retail out of this country than in it. A poor quality of stone, off color, is imported and offered here as being of native production, and careless purchasers are not infrequently deceived by cunning dealers in these matters.
Two vehicles cannot pass each other in this avenue without driving upon the narrow sidewalk. At times a deafening uproar prevails along these circumscribed lanes. The rough grinding of wheels, noisy bootblacks, whooping orange-sellers, screaming newspaper boys, howling dogs, the rattle of the street peddler, lottery ticket venders, fighting street gamins, all join to swell the mingled chorus. And yet these crowded thoroughfares would lose half of their picturesqueness were these elements to be banished from them. They each and all add a certain crude element of interest to this every-day picture of Vanity Fair.