430 Rev. A. C. Smith on the Birds of Portugal. 



perpetual snow, unless again the Estrellas be excepted, which 

 perhaps may be termed the backbone of Portugal. Again, 

 while Spain is essentially the land of drought, and is sadly de- 

 ficient in great rivers, Portugal stands conspicuous for its many 

 and excellent streams : indeed, as the general inclination of the 

 peninsula is from east to west, the streams which take their rise 

 in Spain, and are fed from her snow-capped mountains (when 

 they have increased in volume and become valuable rivers), with 

 not many exceptions. How through Portugal ere they enter the 

 ocean, as for instance the Tagus, the Douro, the Minho, the 

 Guadiana ; and there is a vast number of other streams, of more 

 or less size, which fertilize the districts they water, and make 

 fruitful gardens of what would otherwise be barren wastes. So, 

 too, while Spain is notoriously treeless, and you may travel day 

 after day in that singularly naked land, and the dusky olive will be 

 the only species of tree which meets your eye, Portugal abounds 

 in forests, in several parts extending over many leagues, cover- 

 ing whole chains of hills, and, indeed, occupying a considerable 

 area of the kingdom, forests of fir more particularly, though the 

 oak, the chestnut, and the olive are abundant, and the cork 

 flourishes to an extent I have never seen elsewhere. But, above 

 all, in lieu of the vast elevated plateaux of Central Spain, so 

 burnt up, arid, tawny-coloured, monotonous, and wearisome to 

 the eye, Portugal offers wide-spreading undulating plains, in- 

 deed ; but they are clothed with aromatic and other shrubs 

 — the lavender, the rosemary, the myrtle, the heathers, and 

 brilliant with the most gorgeous and beautiful wild flowers 

 that botanists could desire, amongst which the Cisti, of various 

 hues, and the Hibiscus, ai*e preeminent. In truth, to a naturalist, 

 the sight of a Portuguese heath would alone repay the trouble 

 of a journey from England ; there is something so exquisitely 

 wild and refreshing in those immense undulating plains, where 

 there are neither roads nor houses, neither trees nor human 

 beings, no sign of cultivation, no trace of man : and even where 

 the single-line railway has invaded the solitudes, and the one daily 

 train wafts the traveller through the most populous (!) district, 

 he may still indulge in his reverie of isolation fi-om the " busy 

 haunts of men," as he gazes from the carriage-windows, and for 



