THE AZORES 



537 



the hills and valleys. Passing along the 

 southern road to Furnas, clusters of 

 white houses appear unexpectedly, disap- 

 pear, and reappear above or below, as the 

 road winds over the hills. 



Twenty-seven miles from Ponta Del- 

 gada lies Furnas Lake. Its beauty is en- 

 hanced by a chapel of Gothic architecture 

 on the southern shore that seems to add 

 to the stillness of the place. A short dis- 

 tance beyond is the valley of Furnas, in- 

 closed by steep mountain walls. 



This valley marks an important spot 

 in the history of volcanic disturbances 

 of past centuries, and contains a number 

 of important thermal baths, the waters of 

 which boil and seethe and send up clouds 

 of smoke. To appreciate the full beauty 

 of the valley, the foremost Azorean sum- 

 mer resort, it is necessary to look down 

 upon the town and lake and opposite 

 mountain ranges from the heights of the 

 northern road that descends into the old 

 crater, where today the town of Furnas 

 is located. 



There is a charming spot in the valley 

 of Furnas called "Tanque." This park 

 is of interest to American readers, for it 

 was there that the historian Prescott 

 spent a part of his time during his stay 

 on this island. Prescott came to St. 

 Michaels to visit relatives, and to this day 

 his Azorean kindred, both English and 

 Portuguese, cherish his memory. 



how the: sight-se:£r travels in TH£ 



AZORES 



When people go to Sete Cidades they 

 pray for a fine day, for that is one con- 

 dition — a perfect light to play upon the 

 picture. We were fortunate enough to 

 have the best of weather. A coach drawn 

 by three horses took us to the little town 

 of Lomba da Cruz in less than two hours. 

 There we exchanged the vehicle for don- 

 keys and mounted in native fashion. 



The saddle used by the peasants is a 

 heavily cushioned frame, provided with 

 elevated cross-pieces in front and be- 

 hind. The rider mounts sideways and 

 may grip these cross-pieces like the sides 

 of a chair. The first sensation is some- 

 what startling, but after a little practice 

 this way of riding is not unpleasant. 



A muleteer accompanied each donkey 

 and supplied all the life and energy which 



donkeys the world over lack. "Chega 

 la !" "Chega-te asno !" they shouted in 

 a singing tone, with a long, drawn-out 

 accent on the penult. The ascent is steep, 

 but with the aid of many a "Chega la!" 

 we steadily climbed toward the top amid 

 ferns, heather, and tulip trees. 



a marvelous picture prom thej edge 

 of a crate:r 



After dismounting, we were asked to 

 close our eyes and be guided to a place 

 overlooking the entire scene. A picture 

 should be unfurled quickly. Perhaps this 

 added to the effect. When we opened 

 our eyes we found ourselves standing on 

 the edge of a ridge 2,000 feet above the 

 old crater that had puzzled the discoverer 

 of the island centuries ago. 



On the north and east steep mountain 

 walls, rising to a height of 1,700 feet and 

 covered with green trees, encircle the 

 crater and reflect their hues in the clear 

 waters of the lake below. The two round 

 lakes are known as "Lagoa Grande" and 

 "Lagoa Azul." Although they are con- 

 nected, each retains its distinctive color — 

 the one a beautiful blue ; the other a 

 green. Folk-lore attributes this phenom- 

 enon to the girl who jumped into one 

 lake, which assumed the color of her 

 petticoat, while her parasol, dropping 

 into the other, changed the color of the 

 smaller body of water. 



On the western edge of the lakes is the 

 small valley, with summer residences, 

 and the village of Sete Cidades, which 

 looks like a town in miniature when 

 viewed from the top of the mountains. 



The mountains are lower in the north- 

 west, where the lava flowed down the 

 mountain side during the eruption. 



As I looked into the valley, I recalled 

 the scene on the "Lookout Mountain" of 

 Juan Fernandez, the old Robinson Crusoe 

 Island, where Alexander Selkirk had 

 scanned the ocean in search of a vessel 

 that might take him away from his soli- 

 tary abode. Here was the same view of 

 the ocean on both sides. I recalled scenes 

 in the Andes of South America and 

 glimpses of the beautiful Honduran val- 

 ley of Cantaranas from the top of San 

 Juancito ridge, 6,000 feet high. But 

 none of those was so beautiful a picture. 

 They were simply fragments of the great 



