Birds. 9185 
Next morning, looking out of the port-hole, the first thing that 
attracted one’s attention was the intensely blue water—so blue as to 
appear almost opaque. The sky was clouded, and the hills above the 
town draped in mist. Our steamer was surrounded by gay-looking 
boats, stocked with live turtle, bananas, and neat wicker cages crowded 
with canary birds. The moment an unwary passenger showed himself 
in the waist, a general chorus of tawny boatmen in indifferent English 
invited him to go ashore. By the kindness of one of our fellow- 
voyagers, horses had been ordered for my brother, my nephew and 
myself. When we got on to the beach, and had satisfactorily con- 
cluded the wrangle inevitable in such cases, as to boat-hire, the rain 
began. We paddled about the town for a couple of hours or more, as 
the idea of starting on a ride was absurd. We looked into the fruit- 
market; were offered a string of semiputrid quails by a man in the 
street (said quails being decidedly darker in colour than our Coturnix 
dactylisonans); visited the Convent of Santa Clara, whose inmates 
have an ornithological turn, since they make very pretty artificial 
flowers out of feathers; and finally inspected the fort, which is 
defended by certain soldiers of His Most Faithful Majesty, and a 
glacis covered with prickly pear. From the ramparts a good view of 
the town is obtained; but what I looked at more was some three or 
four couple of small dark swifts (Cypselus unitcolor), which were 
wheeling to and fro under its walls. Beautiful little birds they were, 
and a very good living they seemed to be making, judging from the 
constant rapid jerks in their flight, and the abundance of small insects 
that, in spite of the rain, filled the air. At length the sun shone out, 
and in desperation we determined no longer to defer our ride. 
Accordingly the horses were brought out, and off we started at a 
gallop, each of us being accompanied by a man (a burriguiero) whose 
business it is to hang on by the tail. The first mile was over the 
stones, and up a hill so steep that, having some regard to my reputa- 
tion for veracity, I shall refrain from mentioning what I believe to be 
its angle of inclination. I can only say I do not think I ever rode 
(much less gallopped) up a more tremendous ascent. Each side of 
the road was bounded by high walls, festooned and overhung with 
brilliant flowering plants; but every here and there one obtained a 
look-out. The rain came on again, more heavily than before, accom- 
panied by a storm of wind; and we several times had to take shelter 
from it. At length we arrived at the Church of Nossa Senhora 
do Monte, upwards of 1900 feet above the sea, which forms so 
VOL. XXII, 27 
