310 OUTDOOR STUDIES 
have answered, Yes, — or to Lisbon, and they 
have answered, No, —then social intercourse 
rather flags. I gladly record, however, that 
there were some remarkable exceptions to this, 
and that we found in the family of the late emi- 
nent Portuguese statesman, Mousinho d’Albu- 
querque, accomplishments and knowledge which 
made their acquaintance an honor. 
During the intervals of the dancing, little 
trays of tea and of cakes are repeatedly carried 
round, — astonishing cakes, in every gradation 
of insipidity, with the oddest names: white 
poison, nuns’ kisses, angels’ crops, cats’ tails, 
heavenly bacon, royal eggs, coruscations, cocked 
hats, and esgueczdos, or oblivion cakes, the butter 
being omitted. It seems an unexpected symbol 
of the plaintive melancholy of the Portuguese 
character that the small confections which we 
call kisses they call sighs, suspzvos. As night 
advances, the cakes grow sweeter and the dances 
livelier, and the pretty national dances are at 
last introduced, though these are never seen 
to such advantage as when the peasants per- 
form them on a Saturday or Sunday evening 
to the monotonous strain of a viola, the musi- 
cian himself taking part in the complicated 
dance, and all the men chanting the refrain. 
Nevertheless they add to the gayety of our 
genteel entertainment, and you may stay at 
