Madeira, on the. Way to Italy 



755 



The Carro of Madeira 

 Practically the only vehicle which can be drawn over the steep cobblestone roads of the island 



lemons, convince you that you are in 

 Italy, and its exquisite valley of tree 

 ferns makes you sure that you must be 

 in New Zealand, Hawaii, or one of the 

 East Indian islands. 



Summer, it is said, is the time to visit 

 this wonderful place, and it is a pity that 

 a misconception of the climate of the isl- 

 and prevents Americans from spending 

 this season there, but even in winter, 

 when the dispatches from home were tell- 

 ing of blockades of snow and interrupted 

 traffic, we found Palheiro a dream of 

 landscape beauty, and took awaj^ with us 

 26 kinds of flowers. 



There are few places that give a 

 greater perspective on our rushing, bus- 

 tling civilization than this Portuguese isl- 

 and in the Atlantic, or which show more 

 clearly the inevitable results of bad man- 

 agement from a political point of view. 

 Did not every intelligent man one meets 



in Madeira criticise the government pol- 

 icy there might be reasons for not say- 

 ing harsh things about it, but, as it is the 

 constant talk of those who are borne 

 down under it and suffer from it, there 

 is no reason why American visitors who 

 spend, as most of them do, only a day or 

 two on the island should not understand 

 some of the reasons why its people are 

 so poor as a class, why illiteracy is so 

 prevalent among them, and why this 

 seeming paradise of beautiful and fruit- 

 ful things is anything but ideal for those 

 forced to live there and earn their living 

 on it. 



How is it possible that 150,000 people, 

 who get their living from cultivating the 

 soil, should keep abreast of the times 

 when there is not a single industrial or 

 agricultural school among them, and 

 when the complaint common among those 

 who send their children to the religious 



