ducing him to the southern coast of Madeira by the constitutional light of the moon, and under the constitutional influence of a night breeze upon the sea. But our plan was to pull down the coast to a place called Calhêta, some fifteen miles from Funchal, where we had a letter to the padre, or madre, or somebody who was particularly requested therein to house us for the night, but without being required to give an express warranty that no lively companions should disturb our slumbers.

And so, launching from the surf, below that memorable pier, which the poor Portuguese have made so many futile attempts to erect—an immortal monument of their perseverance and ingenuity, but which is unfortunately washed away once a fortnight-the moon well up, with light hearts and merry tongues, one Saturday evening at gun-fire, we left Funchal.

I will not dwell on the peculiar loveliness of that night, nor on the beauty of the coast: the gigantic proportions of the towering cliffs, never forgetting the great Cape itself: the curious waveworn caverns, where the sca poured furiously in, making its escape, through apertures in the roofs, in columns and clouds of spray, which glittered like gems in the broad moonlight: nor the little villages, all so bright and shadowy on the sea-shore: nor the moon herself, so large and full: nor the diamond sprinkling from the bow of our boat as she dashed through the undulating sea. I beg leave to say I did mark all these things, in spite of joke and repartee, and many a ringing laugh echoed back from that wild shore.

About eleven o'clock we reached Calhêta. The wind had for some time been whistling, and blew freshly when we made the village. Calhêta is always a difficult place to land at when any wind springs up from the south-west, so considerable is the surf. On this eventful night it was not surf alone, but enormous breakers ever increasing in size rolled in on the rough and broken beach. Long swelling waves carried us on their crests near enough to see the fearful turmoil we should have to encounter, while the boatmen, who were really alarmed lest we should attempt the landing, kept their oars balanced, and dropped them into the water with a vigorous stroke the instant they thought the boat was approaching too near. So we held off and on, deliberating for some time, the wind always increasing, and the sea becoming rougher every moment. We had guns with us, and fired once or twice to get the villagers down to the beach, and hear what they had to say on the subject. The effect of the reports, rattling, crashing, and breaking to and fro on the savage hills, was inconceivably startling. Indeed the whole scene was curiously wild. Our little boat, the sole object on the tossing sea; before us the rocky coast, and giant cliff's, around which the waves were eddying in foam and spray; the recess, where, embosomed in dark hills, was the small village,

church spire, and red roofs brightly reflected in the moonlight; the lights flickering in the houses; the roar of breakers, and the howling wind, were unusual sights so combined. Now and then, a light cloud for a moment would obscure the moon, and all was black and gloomy, when again brightly gleaming on the wild picture, the perils which awaited our landing became more distinctly visible. Presently, groups of half-naked peasants were to be seen on the beach; once or twice we thought we distinguished voices, and our boatmen did a little Stentor in the way of conversation, certainly; but as we did not dare approach within a quarter of a mile of the breakers, and the roar and hum was almost deafening, I was not surprised they could come to no understanding.

Three of our party were old hands, and at once declared the impracticability of disembarking with any degree of safety. There was a split in the cabinet; I was for a shoot on to the shore, a ducking, and a good night's rest,-the invalid was also anxious to get out of the night air and threatening storm at all risks. The boatmen, however, decided it, for they absolutely refused to make the attempt. Contemptible scoundrels! there might have been a little danger, but it was slight, and a boat's crew of our jolly Jacktars would have tilted us out on the shore without hesitation. However, opposition was vain, the boat's head was put round, and we pulled back to a place called Magdalena, a most romantic spot, but equally unadapted for landing on a rough night. Here, holding off and on a huge rock, upon whose slippery sides it was proposed to effect a landing,-now tossed far above it, and now looking up at its slimy surface from the depths below-we had the same sort of interview with naked villagers, the same vociferations, the same dispute in the boat, the same tremendous coast, and a heavier surf, and eventually the same result.

Equally unsuccessful was a similar attempt to scale the rocky shore of Ribeira Brava.

I was by this time horribly sea-sick, and laying on a thwart, had the satisfaction of beholding three of the party sitting in the bottom of the boat, enjoying a petit-souper of cold chicken-pie and claret. I heartily voted for a speedy return, smothered the invalid up in blankets and pilot-coats, till I really doubted whether he could avoid being suffocated, and piously gave myself over to all the horrors of sea-sickness. To make a long story short, we reached Funchal at gun-fire (six o'clock) next morning, having spent a most desirable night, coasting on the waters. We were tremendously hard run by the jokers, who said we were all afraid of wetting our jackets; and rated by the saints, who declared it was a judgment upon us for starting on Saturday night, and contemplating Sunday travelling. So two of the party went to church, and we hope the whole expedition was absolved.

Neither did an excursion I once made to the fossil bed of

Caniçal with a party of pleasant fellows at all alter my opinion of the deliberate rashness of such undertakings.

We started on a two days' tour from Funchal, at six o'clock in the morning, intending to breakfast at Santa Cruz. After rounding the Brazen Head, the eastern point which forms the bay of Funchal, we were met with a hurricane of wind, that seemed to have determined on driving us back to Funchal, at least; and instinctively every man bent down, and held on his light straw hat with a clutch of despair. For an hour did our boatmen bravely stem the adverse element. They said they progressed, but I, who kept casting fearful glances back on the rough headland, on whose sharp and surf-beaten sides the wind and waves were driving so furiously, could not help fancying it became larger, and each wave and rock more distinct, as the sea beat terrifically against it. At all events it was preposterous to think of proceeding when it was nearly eight o'clock, the hour at which we proposed breakfasting at Mr. G's pretty quinta in Santa Cruz. There was no alternative; to return, was to be chaffed,-so after some difficulty we pulled ashore in a wild little creek, safely deposited provisions and great coats on the ground, and finding a couple of sturdy countrymen willing to shoulder the baggage, started sans breakfast on an eight-mile walk to Santa Cruz. Poor fellows! how our party toiled painfully along in the warm sun! They were all invalids with the exception of myself, and they had promised themselves an unfatiguing and hazardless trip; for unless the weather appears settled on the hills, they never venture there, but along the southern coast they can generally depend upon it. And what walking! up and down,-over rocks and defiles,-run, jump, and hop,-enough to shake the life out of a dozen dyspeptics! I enjoyed the walk myself. It is so seldom one gets a constitutional in Madeira: the climate is not adapted, and it is not customary.

The sun was warm, but the wind, which was a sort of a young hurricane at sea, blew refreshingly and gently over the land. The road, though barren, was new to me; and there was such life and busy health in my friends the lizards, who in countless numbers were rustling their gladsome little bodies among the leaves and stones, or laying basking in the sun. All but my companions seemed rejoicing in that brilliant morn, and joyed in the motion and the toil. For there was strength, and health, and vigour, and energy everywhere but in their faces. Poor fellows! God help them! Alas! where are they now?

I need not say how quickly hampers were opened, and corks extracted, when we did reach Santa Cruz, about eleven o'clock. But to pursue our water wanderings: towards afternoon we began to think of the grand object of our cruise, and remembered that there was such a place as Caniçal, to visit whose curiosities we had been tempted to leave Funchal. Accordingly, we hired a great

country boat, with a double bank of many rowers, the only one to be scen; and as it was too large to be drawn on to the shingle, we were carried to its deck, through the surf, on sturdy Portuguese backs. I shall never forget an exceedingly long Irishman of our party, who was carried on board by a very short stiff little man, and whose legs could by no possibility be kept clear of the water. It was amusing to see the various manœuvres our long friend adopted to keep his feet dry. He twisted, and bent, and coiled them about his bearer till the man writhed like Laocoon in the folds of the serpent, and looked much more ludicrous. It was all to no purpose; first his ancles, then his knees, and before he reached the boat he was almost precipitated altogether.

The coast we passed was the same I saw when we first arrived off Madeira. Suffice it to say, our state barge moved along at a very stately pace, our boatmen were lazy, the fates unpropitious, and the sun was just going down when we reached Canical.

To visit a fossil bed by moonlight, a good dinner awaiting us at Santa Cruz, was a species of scientific madness not likely to seize any who formed that expedition. We immediately put-about, and did not even see the "whereabouts" of the curiosity. I confess there was great want of enthusiasm, but then invalids are not enthusiastic people. This place of shells is said (by savans and naturalists) to be one of the wonders of the world:-I do not dispute their judgment, because I never saw it.

A winter's evening passed in an English quinta in Madeira must not be imagined to be a night spent in a well-furnished little paradise, through whose delicately-curtained windows, the orange and flower-perfumed air enters softly; and whose downy beds, and couches invite that luxurious repose which the climate seems to justify. The family being in town, the quinta is unfurnished, with the exceptions of chairs, tables, and bare bedsteads; and in this state is lent to you for a night's lodging. You have possession of the key, the roof, and the floors are your own, and be it in the mountains, or on the sea-shore, this is all you may expect to find. Provisions, such as you require ;-crockery, that you do not mind breaking; knives, and forks, made to be lost; spoons, which were never intended to find their way to "my uncle's ;"-great coats to lay upon, and, if you are wise, a blanket for a coverlid,-these are the indispensable luxuries with which you must be provided while travelling in a country which, let alone railway hotels, does not even afford "good accommodation for man and horse!"-All toiletterie may be dispensed with; soap you can carry, but beyond that, I pity the man who hangs lovingly over his dressing table, and cannot forego a single appendage thereto. If you know how to set about it, you may have a cheering fire, and that always makes a comfortable affair of it.

To rave about orange-blossom, and heliotrope, is all very well;

but they are scarcely the luxuries people might imagine, after sunset in the month of January in Madeira.-Excellent wine,—a mull of rich tinta perhaps, cards, and conversation, are things which always make an evening pass pleasantly. On this memorable occasion, I remember, I slept on three chairs, the strongest in this case going to the wall, and the few bedsteads being reserved for those who most required them. I slept well enough; but in the morning awoke in the singular position of my neck on one chair, and a leg on another, the accompanying limb resting tranquilly on the ground. Who would care for a feather bed and a snowy quilt after that?

We had arranged the next day, having had horses sent from Funchal over night, to return home by a place called the Portella, on the north eastern coast, and the Serra de St. Antonio. The weather proved fine, and we started early, leaving the little village of Santa Cruz, its miniature praza, and sombre rows of trees, the cross at the end, and its noiseless, melancholy streets without much regret.

A nice canter in the fresh morning air, along the road which skirts the coast for a few miles, soon brought us to the village of Machico. Ill-fated Robert de Machim, and your hapless bride! Who knows the story? I must say, if the present denizens of Machico are knight Robert's descendants, they do not flatter their parentage.

The village is a poverty-stricken place, and a perfect colony of beggars. I declare I saw no individual there who could be ranked above that detestably odious class, the Portuguese beggar. They crowd, and swarm round you to a most disagreeable extent, considering the nature of the animals.

They are an abominable set of impostors. The blind pilot you on your way to the chapel; the lame run gallantly along by your horse's heels; the paralytic dance before you, and the most ragged monster of the lot bears the firmest step, and most wholesome complexion. At the chapel there are some relics of that same Robert de Machim, but the beggars are too troublesome to allow any one to see them.

As we rode through the village at a rapid pace to shake off the crowds of filthy wretches who beset us with their whines, and prayers, we were struck with the number of roofless, and ruined houses, and learned on inquiry that we saw the effects of the ravages committed a short time before by a ruthless soldiery let loose upon the unfortunate followers of Dr. Kalley. Would these were all the atrocities that were perpetrated in the same cause. There were worse things untold. We should be sceptical about it, if we had not been an eye witness of the devastations, and remembered at the same time the extreme enlightenment of Portuguese understanding!