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and completed by his son and successor Don John III. has received but little injury from the hand of time, and has withstood all the convulsions which have successively buried in ruins the buildings around it. The architecture, which is a mixture of the Arabick and Norman gothick, is striking and singular. Instead of endeavouring to preserve symmetry, the greatest pains have been taken to avoid every external appearance of regularity, one pillar being made intentionally different from another. We here read the inscriptions on the tombs of many of the royal and noble families of Portugal. Over the portal is inscribed :

Vasta mole sacrum Divina in littore matri

Rex posuit Regum maximus Emanuel.
Auxit opus haeres Regini, et pietatis uterque.
Structura certant, religione pares.

There are two very fine organs in the church. We saw an illuminated manuscript bible, in three volumes, which was presented by the pope to King Emanuel, and which has had the good fortune to escape the eye of Junot. The clasps are of gold and studded with gems, and it is adorned with inimitable paintings.

The castle at Belem was built by the same founder, and at the same period as the monastery, to which it is opposite. It is erected where the river is narrowest, on a tongue of land, and consists of a single tower with two batteries, to which an additional temporary platform has been recently added by the French. It presents as you enter the river a most beautiful and picturesque object to the eye. There is a fine sand along the shore, which affords a most excellent place for bathing. From the warmth of the day, and from its proximity to my friend's quarters, we were tempted to avail ourselves of the circumstance. The place, excellent as it is, is rarely used by the Portuguese. Was a hydrophobia prevalent in Lisbon, there could not be a more general aversion to water.

October 7.

I returned yesterday from an excursion to Setuval, or as it is generally called by the English, St. Ubes. We crossed the river to a place called Couna. Previously to our embarkation we agreed with a muleteer to be in waiting for us, stipulating at the same time how much we should pay for the journey. This

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is a necessary precaution; for gentlemen of his cloth, if you cross the river without a previous arrangement, seldom fail to 'demand double their due; and the traveller must either comply with their extortion, or be content to go back again to Lisbon. On landing, we were obliged to let our baggage undergo an examination by the custom house officers. This ceremony does not occupy much time. It is merely a mode of taking a cruzado without the ignominy of begging it, or the risque attached to picking your pocket. The view of Lisbon from the southern bank is uncommonly beautiful. We stopped as we ascended the hill to look back on the city. On every side the prospect was rich in charms. Around us were cultivated fields, olive vineyards and groves,

"Where the lemon and the piercing lime,

With the deep orange, glowing through the green
Their lighter glories blend."

The Tagus rolled below us. On the opposite shore rose an
amphitheatre of hills, crowded with innumerable convents and
churches, and covered with villas to their summits. Olive
trees, plantations and gardens lay interspersed amid the houses
of this wide-extended city, above which stood proudly eminent
the tall palm, lifting high its lofty crown. We looked down
upon the castles of Belem and St. Julien, and the Tagus pour-
ing its waters into the Atlantick ocean. We saw the white
breakers glittering over the rough bar at the entrance of the
river, and at a distance the majestick, pointed, rocky moun-
tains of Cintra formed the boundary of the landscape. On the
other side the eye stretched across the dark and sandy plains
of Alemtyo, over which we were about to pass.
The prospect
in this direction was terminated by the stupendous mountains
of Arrabida, whose summits were hidden amid the clouds. Be-
low the city rose the rock of Lisbon. It was a holiday, and
the river exhibited a most gay and cheerful appearance. The
surface of the water was covered with vessels. Unnumbered
pleasure boats and barges were gliding along. The assem-
bled fleets of Great Britain, Portugal and Russia lay at anchor
before us, amid a forest of masts. The flags of all nations
were flying, and as far as the eye could reach we beheld
"Ten thousand banners in the air,

With orient colours waving."

The sky was clear, and the heat of the sun tempered by a pleasant and refreshing breeze. I never remember to have witnessed a greater assemblage of pleasing objects, or a more interesting and lively scene. Such is the view of Lisbon, and excusable perhaps is the vanity of the Portuguese in their proverb, Que naō tem visto Lisboa, naō tem bisto cousa boa: He who has not seen Lisbon has not seen a good thing. But alas, like many other beauties, Lisbon looks best at a distance. In beholding it as it lies stretched before you, you forget for a moment its dark, ill-paved and narrow streets, its filth, its noise, and its nastiness, but the instant you set foot within it, your senses are again more acutely awakened. All your ideas of the opulence, grandeur and magnificence of a mighty metropolis immediately evaporate like the snuff of a candle, leaving behind only a stench. We found our muleteer, by name Baltasar Pacheco, waiting for us with his mules and calesas ready harnessed. The heads of the mules were ornamented most gaily with strings and tassels of worsted, of all the colours in the rainbow. Their tails were tied with red ribands, and according to the usual custom of the country, the hair on their rumps was very ingeniously cut into divers fanciful shapes and quaint devices. The right buttock of one of the mules in the calesa which I rode in, contained a representation of Christ on the cross. Our ride was very pleasant. The country abounds with flowers, which lay scattered on every side amid the heath and sand. The road was partly through pine forests, interspersed withcork and olive trees, and partly across sandy heaths. At times, we seemed to be entangled in a wilderness of evergreen shrubs and aromatick herbs. We passed through the small town of Azetao, close to which rise pleasant hills covered with laurel, myrtle, and laurestinus. Here we entered a thick wood of pines, over which we saw the venerable ruins of the castle of Palmella. This fortress was the last hold of the Moors in Portugal. It stands on the summit of a round and almost conical mountain, and is visible at an extraordinary distance. A convent is situated near the ruins, which also forms a picturesque object. At Palmella we stopped to water our mules at an inn, the doors and windows of which, as Taylor observes of one where he lodged, in his travels through Bohemia, were always open, by reason of there being none to shut. A cross was

suspended over the door by way of a sign, and on the roof of the inn there was a stork's nest. There is a very handsome fountain at the entrance of Palmella, decorated with the arms of the town. In the inscription on it we saw the flattering capitals S. P. Q. P. I recollect to have seen in the Guildhall of London, S. P. Q. L. but this I think is a rather greater assumption. The country about the town seemed in a high state of cultivation. As we descended the hill, the prospect became beautiful. The road was skirted with hedges of laurestinus, gum cystus and myrtle, which grew in luxuriant abundance. The air was impregnated with the balsamick richness of their blossoms. Immediately before us appeared the Serra de Arrabida. This lofty chain of mountains rises abruptly to the eastward of Palmella out of the sandy plain, and stretches into the ocean. Its extremity forms the promontory of Espichel. About eight miles below us lay St. Ubes with its harbour: beyond which we dimly discerned the distant shore of Estremadura. We frequently saw single farmhouses, cottages, churches and convents. There is a striking simplicity in the architecture of the country churches. They are without any tower or steeple, and their bells are suspended in a single wall of a pyramidical form, on the apex of which is a crucifix. On the outside of many of them were little balconies containing sculls. We passed a churchyard, the wall of which was entirely covered with monumental crosses. Over most of the church doors were figures of saints, &c. worked in blue tiles, like the wainscoating of the houses in Lisbon. We saw storks' nests in great numbers. The roof of almost every convent and church was peopled with them. This is the case throughout the peninsula. The stork is held sacred, and is looked upon by the inhabitants with a sort of religious veneration. No catholick will molest it. In the winter season they are very numerous, and they return annually to the same nests. They destroy all the vermin on the tops of houses, and pick up a great number of snakes; so that they are welcome guests. It is said that in some parts of Spain, if they do not appear by St. Agatha's day (the fifth of February) the people pelt them with stones when they come, and drive them away.

The dress of the peasants for warm weather is peculiarly comfortable. We met many on the road whose breeches were

of white undressed sheepskin, and their gaiters of black, with the wool outwards. The huts of this class of the community are not more sumptuous than their apparel. They live in the same sty with their swine, and appear not to be any ways inferiour to their inmates, either in filth or obstinacy. Not swine only, but horses, cows, hens and chickens, in many of the houses we passed, seemed admitted to board and lodging, to live in the same apartment, and to participate in all the privileges enjoyed by the other members of the family.

As we entered St. Ubes we saw a funeral. The body was carried on a bier without a coffin. Over it was a canopy. Our caleseros, when we arrived, unharnessed the mules, and turned them loose into the market place. This I find is the custom. St. Ubes is situated at the extremity of the Serra de Arrabida, on the south side of the ridge. The country about it is pleasant from the variety which it exhibits. The principal street extends along the strand. As soon as we alighted, we walked through the town. We went to see the salt pans, which lie in great numbers along the Sado and its branches. The Portuguese call them Marinhas. They are dug, square, about three feet deep. Salt water is introduced on one side from the sea, at flood, through canals, which extend in innumerable branches, and are shut when the pans are full. When evaporated, the salt is collected in the month of June, and kept either in wooden sheds or in heaps, which are protected against the sun by rushes. The export of this article forms the principal trade of St. Ubes, though some oranges and Muscatel wine are also exported. We saw vast numbers of women nearly in the state of Eve, kneeling to wash in the Sado, the banks of which were covered with linen. St. Ubes would be a considerable place were it not so near Lisbon. It was anciently called Cetobrica. Coins are frequently found in the vicinity. A Corinthian pillar was dug up not long ago near the town. stands in the square, ornamented with a crucifix. St. Ubes, on the narrow strip of land which forms the entrance of the harbour, are the remains of an ancient city called Troga. Many walls are still seen, and a number of square pavements, formed of small angular stones, strongly cemented together, which were probably sites of houses or courts belonging to them.

It now

Opposite