310 NOTES ON MADEIRA, 



spectacle ; but as to devotion, there was no trace of it. In all 

 parts groups were occupied in hearing and telling news ; 

 friends greeting friends; jokes bandied about: all made it 

 much more like a fair than one of the most solemn festivals of 

 the church. We attended the English church this morning, 

 and were not a little disappointed at not seeing the Catholic 

 Vicar-General, now acting as Bishop of Funchal. For two 

 years it has been his custom to come on Christmas-day to the 

 English church, where he conducts himself with the greatest 

 propriety, even stays the subsequent administration of the 

 communion, and makes a handsome donation at the offertory. 

 He was this day prevented, by having to preach himself; he 

 is a very worthy man, and much esteemed by all. At dinner, 

 we did not forget our friends in *' Old England." 



27^/^ — To-day we have been to the Ribeiro Frio, on the 

 other side of the island. We started at 8 a. m, on horseback, 

 ten in party, including two ladies, with five attendants on foot. 

 To the elevation of 2000 feet the road is paved, and compara- 

 tively good, though excessively steep; the next 1000 feet is 

 horrible, — first over a soft red soil, in which the rain has worn 

 holes big enough to bury man and horse — and then over loose 

 rocks, sufficiently large to fill up the holes we had passed. 

 We now emerged on a considerable plain, covered with turf, 

 and affording a good place for a gallop. But the descent into 

 the Ribeiro was the worst. The road was like nothing but 

 the dry bed of a torrent — full of rocks, and in some places not 

 far from perpendicular ; it runs zigzag close to the edge of 

 the precipice, which cannot be less than 1000 feet. The 

 Ribeiro Frio is a deep narrow ravine, beautifully wooded 

 with fine evergreen trees exclusively, and encircled at its head 

 with some of the finest peaks I ever saw. They are called the 

 Torinhas, and stand up like so many obelisks or spires — more 

 like the Coolin Hills in Skye, than any thing I have seen. 

 Our guides have come all the distance (fifteen miles from 

 Funchal) on foot, all carrying some burthen, and do not seem 

 the least fatigued with these horrible roads ; the only assist- 

 ance they had was hanging on by our horses tails in very 

 steep places. On reaching the bottom of the ravine, the ther- 

 mometer sank to 56", and the guides kindled a large fire, 

 which they seemed thoroughly to enjoy. After a substantial 

 lunch we separated, and strolled in different directions. Some 



