ON VITICULTURE IN SPAIN AND PORTUGAL. 331 



The wine district of the Alto Douro, whence comes our 

 port wine, is a singular region, extending some thirty 

 miles along either bank of the river, but chiefly on the 

 north side, in the province of Traz-os-Montes, and having 

 a varying width of five to ten miles. The whole paiz 

 vinhateiro consists of grey and arid-looking mountain- sides, 

 divided by deep gullies and ravines, and all so steep that 

 their soil of friable mica-schist, more like bits of broken 

 slate than fertile earth, can only be cultivated by means of 

 terraces roughly built up, tier above tier. Mountain after 

 mountain has its sides thus scored with terraced lines 

 like Cyclopean staircases, and on particular slopes as 

 many as 150 may be counted rising one above another, 

 the effect of which is most peculiar. Here and there a 

 gleaming white casa, with its grove of orange and cypress- 

 trees ; or a water-mill, shaded by oaks and chestnuts, 

 breaks the monotony of the landscape. Below, the yellow 

 Douro courses swiftly, bearing picturesque boats, high- 

 prowed and long-hulled, impelled by a white cloud of 

 sail, and steered by a huge oar worked from a pivot in 

 the stern-post, while far above the zone of vineyards rise 

 mountain peaks in jagged outline. 



Grapes are growing by the wayside, hanging from every 

 crag or tree to which a vine can attach its tendrils, and, per- 

 haps most picturesque of all, from the ramadas or trellises. 

 These ramadas roof in the courtyard of cottage or farm, 

 and even span the village street. As one rides through 

 the hamlets which nestle in the valleys of the Douro, the 

 heavy purple clusters, six or eight pounds in weight, hang 

 temptingly just overhead — temptingly to the stranger to 

 raise his parched lips and snatch a mouthful of the juicy 

 spheres. Partridges, too, appreciate the luxury of a grape- 

 feast, and in the evening, at this season (September and 

 October), their call-note is ubiquitous. But it is terrible 

 work to follow them amidst the tangled vines and crum- 

 bling terraces under the fierce afternoon sun ; and a better 

 chance of sport will be found at mid-day on the heather- 

 clad ridges above. Thither, after their morning feed, they 

 retire to enjoy a siesta, and with the aid of a good dog 



