a hosier-awoke again, just as I was congratulating her, by a quarrel in the pig-sty."

Mrs Baillie affirms generally this hasty sketch of our friend's; but, except calling her landlord a rascally Don peasant, stuffed with garlic," adds nothing to it of importance.

Cintra pleases; and we proceed, therefore, with our usual vigour, but in the way of admiration. Mrs B. has some idea of the true poetic style. "Beautiful paradise," matchless grandeur," "exquisite spot of earth," summer blue,"-"light, life, and joy," and " powers shrink from the attempt to describe." This is only meant for prose; but there is some verse here and there in the book, and the verses are not absolutely the worst part of it.

Our domestic details, too, improve at Cintra; and the "snow-white dimity beds," and "prime little toilet tables, covered with coarse frilled muslin," of Portugal, are mentioned.

They frill the towels also, and make them twenty yards long," according to ODoherty." I felt something pull at mine, as I was washing myself" (this was in Lisbon) "the other day; and curse me, while I was using one end of it all the way up in the second floor, if the cat, and her kittens, were not playing with the other at the bottom of the kitchen-stairs!"

The hair of the Portuguese ladies (about the middle of the first volume) is discommended as being coarse, thin, and generally ill cut. They are farther chid for not wearing night-caps to sleep in; there be those, however, who have held the "night-cap" a disfigurement. It seems, also, that the contempt of nocturnal habiliment, with a great many ladies, extends even farther than the banishment of the night-cap. This, as a fact, is correctly stated; but it is too nice a point for us to hazard an opinion on.

The second volume describes an occurrence, which must convince every body how hard the wind blows sometimes in Lisbon. A porter, loaded with a large sofa, is turning the corner of a lane, when "the wind takes him completely off the ground, and whirls him from one side of the street to the other." It is very odd, that an accident precisely similar occurs in the time of Mr ODoherty, except that the load in his case is a mattress instead

of a sofa, which is carried up, (not the man and all,) and sticks in a garret window.

Lo, another confirmation of statements!

Mrs Baillie says, (which is perfectly true,)-" All the funerals of respectable persons take place in Lisbon at night, and the corpse is attended to the grave by the friends of the deceased bearing torches and tapers."

Now the Ensign.-" My patrone, Don Joré, died last night, and I was asked to hold a candle at his funeral. My candle was six feet long, and thick in proportion, and looked like a constable's staff on fire at the end. Held it awry, pretending to look another way, and guttered it all over the coat of the man who stood next me-bullied him when he found me outstreamed him all down first, from the collar to the tail."

Page 75 states-still upon funerals -that people are "sometimes" [always buried in their ordinary wearing-clothes, which become, however, in the end, the perquisite of the sexton. If this be true, the sexton must disinter the body-(no coffin, by the way, is used)—which would be troublesome, in order to get at them; for the mould is always thrown into the grave before the spectators leave the church.

A chapter on funerals, however— where the authoress really sees oneforms the best thing in the book; and, as it contains some rather curious points of description, we shall select it to conclude with.

"The late reigning Queen of Portugal, who died in Brazil six years ago, and whose body has been removed from one convent to another, ever since the event, was at length finally buried in the vaults of the Estrella convent in Lisbon, about a fortnight ago. We went to the house of a Portuguese friend to see the funeral procession pass by, which occurred about eleven o'clock, by torch-light."

The ceremonies of her Majesty's lying in state, "lasted for three entire days and nights, during which period the great guns on sea and land, and the bells of every steeple in Lisbon pealed without intermission." This must have been upon those who were not dead, no trifling affliction.

"On the first night, the grand procession took place; setting out from

a distant convent, and finally stopping at that of the Estrella; where the body was received with great state and formality; laid in the principal aisle of the church; and carefully watched until the next morning by a select number of ladies and gentlemen of the Court. These remained standing, uncovered, and in dead silence, around it the whole time, without once sitting down to rest their wearied limbs, in the same rigid observance of etiquette, which they would have been expected to practise during the life of the deceased."

They were relieved, perhaps, from time to time, scarcely the same party removing during the whole night.

"The procession was very imposing as a spectacle, and boasted the attendance of the king and all the royal family, in their state carriages.' After these "came all the fidalgos on horseback, drest in ample cloaks of black cloth, and coal-beaver hats, (which the Spanish call sombreros,) from which depended very long streamers of black crape;-the effect of their glittering stars and orders peeping occasionally from beneath the mantle, and flashing in the light of the torches, was very brilliant and chivalrous. Then followed an army of bishops, monsignors, priests, and monks, and immediately afterwards came the different regiments in the service, horse and foot, each with its separate band of music playing at due intervals, the most wild and pathetic funeral-lament in the shape of a dead-march. The hearse, or rather hearses, for there were two, in compliance with royal etiquette, one containing the body,

and the other vacant in case of accident, were very paltry, shabby conveyances. They reminded me of our bakers' carts covered with black drapery."

The next day brings a grand mass; the church of the Estrella overflows with spectators, and the corpse is exposed in full court-dress, while the nobility come successively to "kiss the hand; a ceremony which could by no means be dispensed with."

The third day brings the final sepulture, when the most curious arrangement remains yet to be described-the ceremony of her deceased Majesty's funeral toilette.

"Two of the young princesses were appointed by the King to the high honour of presiding, and four ladies in

waiting performed the enviable office of tire-women to the corpse. It had been brought over from Brazil, enclosed in three coffins, the inner one of lead, where it was laid, surrounded by aromatic herbs, gums, and essences, without having been regularly embalmed-a process which is only adopted towards males of the royal house. As her Majesty had been dead for the last six years, the horrible effluvia that now issued from the coffin when opened, was such as to overpower all the persons present, notwithstanding that she had died in the odour of sanctity.'

One of the princesses fainted twice, and was too ill to re-appear; but her sister was obliged to stand it out, while the ladies raised the body, and completely reclothed it, in a black robe, a dress cap, gloves, shoes, and stockings, and adorned it with four splendid orders upon the breast. The body itself was not only entire, but the limbs were flexible; the face only had changed to a dreadful black colour."

This is a little too much like the "etiquette" of Timbuctoo; and we permit Mrs Baillie to " thank Heaven" that she is "not a Portuguese courtier,"-though, by the way, it is not distinctly stated that she witnessed the whole of this ceremony herself.

A few descriptions of court entertainments are given in pretty nearly the same style as the foregoing extract;

in fact, Mrs Baillie has no great powers of writing; but she gets on well enough where she has anything to say. Her great fault is,—and that of most other writing ladies,—an excess upon the mistake of travellers in generalthat they will always suppose any possibility, however remote, rather than that of the impression which suggests itself to themselves, being entirely an absurd one.

Thus we jump to conclusions far too hastily; and take facts, upon statement, which have no foundation in the way of being reasonable, far less of being true. Page 92, for instance, vol. I. treating of the Gallegos, or porters, of Lisbon, places the Portuguese character in an exceedingly extraordinary light.

"The Gallegos still remain; for, if they were to be sent home, business of every sort would be at a complete stand. Several of the merchants, both formerly and at present, have tried the dif

ference between the Gallegos and the Portuguese porters. Mr S, to place the matter in its true light, employed them (the latter) to convey several boxes to his warehouse from a distance. They grew tired of the burthen before they had carried it halfway; set it down ; amused themselves as they thought proper in the interval; and finally broke much of the contents. A German merchant made a similar experiment, relative to some ́casks of oil. They behaved exactly in the same manner; overturned the casks in the middle of the streets, and wasted a great quantity."-Now a fact like this ought decidedly to be communicated to Dr Spurzheim. The Portuguese (physiologically) are without the " organ of carrying casks of oil

and boxes.

Page 217, (and indeed almost every other page,) we are in "tears of disgust" at the ill odours which decent persons are compelled to endure in Lisbon. A historian ought not to weep for a smell.

Page 204 chastises the "horrid receptacles for the dead," which are found "in the vicinity of most cities," and" of London in particular.". There's "snug lying" too, we should think, in "Bunhill fields;" and St Paul's is well enough in its way. The people in St Bride's were hampered for room; but now the fire has thrown them open. And at Mary-le-bone and Pancras-let Mrs Baillie bethink herself!-we are absolutely rural!

Our manner of admiring, however, is sometimes very entertaining. We visit the Principal of Portugal, (the head of the Portuguese church,) and are charmed with the unaffected simplicity of his house and domestic arrangements. Some dishes of common delf-ware" particularly strike us; and at a pair of "plated spoons," through which" the copper is abundantly visible," we are in ecstasy-" no purple pomp!" In the end, we quit this gentleman, convinced that he is "decidedly one of the first characters in Portugal;" and, at parting, break forth into admiration of all we have beheld.

"I thought I had never before seen so humble an episcopal residence! It was spacious, but constructed upon so plain and unadorned a plan, that it at once resembled a country stable and a prison!!!-uniting all the want of finish, the roughness, and rusticity of

the former, with the solidity and gloom of the latter. No train of domestics in purple pomp inhabited this modest retreat." There is no jesting equal to the gravity of some people.

Page 198, vol. I., contains an odd story about a gentleman's seat near Coimtra.

"The kitchen of this place is a great curiosity, of immense dimensions, and most superbly appointed. A river flows through the midst of it, from which it is the common practice of the cooks to catch the fish, which a few moments afterwards are prepared for the table. The Duke of Wellington is said to have amused himself by fishing here, during the time that he was so hospitably and enthusiastically received by the family."

ODoherty mentions the oxen that he saw grazing on the banks of this river, but not the fish. Mrs Baillie does not name the oxen; but she speaks only upon hearsay.

The remainder of the episodes in the book are unamusing; consisting of pathetic stories (rather than very_original) about monks and nuns, and some terrible versions of attempts, on the part of the Portuguese, at wit and humour. The style dictatorial prevails throughout; the very thought of a "doubt" seeming more abhorrent to the authoress than it was to the Irish gentleman (whatever his name is) in Miss Edgeworth's tale of " Ennui."

"The man who cries' consider' is an ass!"

Thus, page 73 finds us, every moment, "more and more amazed" at the ignorance of the commonest arts among the Portuguese! "A carpenter here is the most awkward and clumsy artisan that can be imagined, spoiling every work he attempts!"

At Cintra, we hold the "asses" respectable; but then, en revanche, they

are

very different from the stupid asses (quadrupeds, however) common to England.'

Vol. II., page 2, speaks of the state of morality among the higher ranks of society in Lisbon. "It is much upon a par with that of other European capitals; no more need be said, for everybody understands this estimate." -Everybody perhaps understands the libel which Mrs Baillie means to convey; but, as a joke, it is miserably stale; as a serious assertion, it is exceedingly untrue.

all in holiday dresses, poured out "per far niente," and to enjoy the lazy freshness of a bright sunny day.

The wind was " tramontano"-the sky consequently cloudless-the sea smooth as glass-so that the opposite island of Capri seemed to float in air above the level of the water; or, as the sailors say, "lifted." The heights of the Vomero, and of Posilipo, which rise abruptly up from this delicious strand, by a faint tinge of green, fringing their irregular dells and precipices, displayed the early promise of the groves and gardens.

Leaving on the left the principal crowd, we turned directly up towards the cliff, and came to the yawning quarries and Grotto of Posilipo. We had just time to point out to our "freshman" the ilex which overhangs the tomb of Virgil, as we dashed under the darkening arch, keeping up a bawling conversation, in spite of the loud murmuring of the carriages, which, in constant succession, pass and repass this dismal tunnel. It is nearly half a mile long, and very disagreeable, from dust and noise, and from the chilly current of air, that, on coming in from the sun, pierces to the bone. This serves, however, to make one enjoy the burst of light and the glow of balmy air which meet you as you emerge from purgatory at Fuori-grotta. There we turned into a straight sandy road, leading to Bagnoli, in the Gulf of Pozzuoli; and were beset, as all voyagers have been, by a legion of little ragged devils, who chased the carriage, uttering a peculiar squeaking sound, tumbling, and throwing handfuls of sand upon their faces, or pelting us with bouquets of early violets. Further on, at the sea-side, we were invited by rival dealers to feast upon their oysters and anchovies; and, on rounding the bay to Pozzuoli, a new set of harpies assailed us, and with more varied claims upon our purse. We saw boatmen, dressed like English sailors, and bellowing, "Want a boat, sir ?" amid the contending cry of "Cicerone, signori !" from a dozen tatterdemalion sçavans, who professed to be the "knowing ones" of this classical region, and offered to guide us to its wonders. Others thrust before our bewildered view lamps of " terra-cotta," little bronze figures, rusty coins, scraps of painted stucco, or handfulls

of broken-up Mosaic, and other undescribable things, called, generically, "roba antica." All these were declared to be dug up at Bajæ or Cumæ ; but, as we found, they are very commonly manufactured at Naples, to supply the antiquarian market. What these fellows wanted in noise was made up by a chorus of beggars and "stroppiati," who, making a fearful display of wounds and hideous infirmities, seemed to calculate more upon exciting disgust, than moving to compassion.

It was in vain that we ordered our coachman to drive faster, and made the sign of negation by shaking the forefinger. We happened to be the first arrival, and found all hands upon the "qui vit?" Having also an ascent to climb on entering the town, we were escorted by the whole band as far as the Piazza. Here an old acquaintance, Angiolo, (who, pointing to his one eye, claimed my recognition,) was chosen our cicerone, and desired to give a programme of a trip to Cumæ and the islands; which he accordingly did in a long harangue pronounced on the step of the "Calessa." By his advice we hired a boat to go round and wait for us at Miniscola; a little bay, extending from Cape Misenus to the Monte di Procida, and fronting the islands. Learning, too, that we had to spend the day in a region more rich in mouldering ruins and extinct volcances, than in blazing hearths and well-stocked taverns, we applied to the nearest "victualling offices," and then set off, fully equipped for seeing and digesting. A winding road, bordered by hedges, newly green, runs up under Monte Barbaro, and leads along the high steep bank of the Lago di Averno. We looked down upon the massive ruins of a circular temple, which stand at the water's edge, and endeavoured to trace, in the tangled brushwood of the opposite side, the low-arched entrance of the "Grotta della Sibilla"-the scene of a former ramble. Next we came to the Arcofelice; a lofty arch thrown across the road from one high mound of earth to another. It is seventy feet high; and the trouble of scrambling up the bank and gaining the top was well repaid by a delightful view of the Gulf of Pozzuoli and Bajæ, which we were leaving, and of the Cumean shore, now first opened to our view. This Arco