14 AFRICA SPEAKS 



One fine afternoon the ship steamed up the Rio Tejo 

 and made the port of Lisbon. From the sea and river, 

 Lisbon presents an appealing picture. Boats with 

 orange sails were dotted here and there on emerald 

 waters which gently beat against earthen cHffs, back 

 of wliich were dun-colored, low-rolling hills, topped 

 by white buildings with red roofs. Everywhere golden 

 sunhght, through which slow flying gulls winged their 

 way toward an abandoned fort which stands near the 

 wireless towers. We went ashore, landing at a stone 

 wharf where the smell of fish assailed the nostrils 

 while dazzHng uniforms struck the eyes. There was a 

 smell of age about the place as we went up the narrow 

 streets, dodging two-wheeled carts, horses, and don- 

 keys. Men in rags asked us for coins and we asked men 

 in uniforms how to get to the main part of the town. 

 They told us in Portuguese, which, of course, made 

 everything perfectly clear. As we approached the 

 center of things, tramcars and taxicabs, men and women 

 beggars, swords and uniforms, dirty children, white- 

 washed walls, steep hillside passageways, and statues 

 to past glories all increased. When we entered the 

 Esplanade I sat down on a bench for a short rest and 

 had hardly done so when a man dressed like a street- 

 car conductor came up to collect for the privilege of 

 using the seat. Tliis fellow spoke a httle EngHsh and 

 I found out that there had not been a revolution for 

 several weeks — in fact there was notliing to look for- 

 ward to in the way of excitement except the opening 

 of the buU-fighting season in a few days. 



The next time the anchor struck bottom our floating 

 home was attached to the African continent, and we 

 gazed from the deck on one of the most colorful spots 



