152 WHALING AND BEAR-HUNTING 



like craft with such vulgar herring-fisher's symbols. And 

 putting black paint by mistake on a white sail is enough to 

 make a yachtsman weep. What benefit can be derived by 

 anyone by the above procedure I have yet to learn. 



So to-day I also must go and see these Seven Cities. 

 No one knows the reason for the name ; my messmates tell 

 me it is a volcanic valley almost circular, with a double lake 

 at the bottom, and round the lakes are smaller extinct 

 volcanoes covered with foliage. 



Arming ourselves, therefore, with a sandwich of goodly 

 proportions, and a bottle of vino tinto from our friend Sancho 

 at the Atlantico cafe, we sallied forth in solitary state in an 



old brougham, one artist whaler, three horses and a Portu- 

 guese driver, and a bundle of maize straws astern, and drove 

 and drove, always uphill, through little whitewashed villages 

 and narrow lanes, between low stone walls, and crops of 

 Indian corn, rather dry-looking, with pumpkins and gourds 

 on the stubbles ; past many farm carts, loaded with golden 

 maize or pumpkins, and with groaning, squeaking wooden 

 discs for wheels, till high up we came to little grass fields and 

 hedges of bramble, and loose stone dykes with bracken and 

 canes on them, and where the air was fresh as in Perthshire, 

 and there were very wide views of the blue Atlantic. The 

 drive felt long, but a sketch-book going, helped to make the 

 road feel tolerable, but it was quite an hour and a half before 



