seems to be pleased with a collection of sonorous words, and where an abundance of words is taken for an abundance of ideas. Pride is commonly very precise! she disdains to go into detail, and loves expressious ænigmatical from their conciseness, which leave something to think upon, and sometimes to guess at. Hence it happens that these same Spaniards, who, when their imagination is ever so little heated, display all the richness of their language, are perfectly laconic when their mind is calm.

"This Spanish gravity, which is become proverbial, is, however, far from what is generally conceived. It is true, you seldom find amongst the Spaniards what we call affability. They will never go to meet you, but wait for you. This forbidding exterior, however, often envelops a good and kind heart, which you will find when you least expect it.

"The smile of good-will is seldom the mask of duplicity, and their heart commonly expands with their countenance.

"These, my dear Edward, are the distinguishing characteristics of the Spanish people, of which we shall have further proof as we travel through their country, and mix more in their society."

The inhabitants of Valladolid have lately formed some agreeable plantations along the Pisuerga, upon the square called the Campo Grande, situated at one of the extremities of this city, remarkable for its immense size, and the thirteen churches which may be reckoned within its walls.

Valladolid has another very regular square, with three rows of balconies, where it is asserted that 21,000 persons may be seated; and where the bull-fights used formerly to be exhibited once in every three years: it is also adorned with many beautiful fountains.

"By the bye, Edward, I forgot to remind you, that if you should feel indisposed, this is the place of all others where you will find relief." "I have no wish," replied his pupil, who understood the allusion, "to put myself under the hands of a doctor Sangrado, I do assure you, Sir."

Valladolid, among other remarkable churches, has that of the Dominicans, and of Saint Benedict, which have to boast of the kind of beauty peculiar to almost all the sacred edifices in Spain; that is to say, they arespacious, and filled with altars surcharged with decorations and gilding; they besides contain some tombs of white marble, sculptured with admirable care.

"This city," observed Dr. Walker, "was formerly one of the greatest importance in Spain; but when Philip III. fixed the residence of the court at Madrid, he carried in his train all the opulent families, which had formerly resided there. The nobles having been content to be at court only, when the king visited this city. "It really is lamentable," continued the Doctor, "to see so many fine houses abandoned by their inhabitants, and mouldering into ruins: nothing now remains of its former opulence but a prodigious number of sacred edifices. While out of the town, in spite of the fertility of a country adapted for every kind of culture, and abounding in rivers, all is nakedness and misery." Our travellers proceeded by Arevalo to Pencranda, through well cul

tivated plains; but there is still a degree of indigence among the inhabitants, which can be only accounted for by their seclusion from strangers and of objects of comparison, for they seem to have neither the desire nor the knowledge of the comforts of life. It never occurs to them to ornament their estates. A garden of pot-herbs is to them an object of luxury, which their parsimony denies. Indolence subjects them to privations, and habituation to privations encourages indolence in its turn; and in this state they must remain until roads, bridges, canals, and the more easy means of carriage, have made them acquainted with the advantages of commerce.

At Peneranda, our travellers took up their quarters at one of the Deatest and most commodious inns they had seen since they had entered Spain. From Peneranda they continued their journey without any interruption; and in quitting Herta, the towers of Salamanca appeared in the distant horizon.

On entering Salamanca, Edward exclaimed, "how dirty, narrow, and unpeopled the streets look, Sir: I am sure one would suppose from this entrance, that it is one of the most gloomy cities of Europe;" but he was agreeably surprised upon entering its modern square, equally remarkable for the neatness and regularity of its architecture, and which is adorned with three rows of balconies, which follow each other without interruption. Ninety arcades form its foot pavement. In the iltervals between the arches are placed medallions of the most illustrious persons Spain has to boast of. On one side is to be seen all the kings of Castile, up to the reign of Charles III.; on the other, those of the best known Spanish heroes, as Bernard del Carpio, Gonsalvo de Cordova, and Ferdinand Cortez. The niches on the eastern side are still empty.

In the midst of the crowd of sacred edifices which Salamanca contains, they were recommended to visit the church of the Dominicans, the façade of the Augustins, and the church of San Marcos.

In the first they remarked a Gothic façade, wrought with much care, a vast nave, and chapels richly decorated; but they songht in vain for the beautiful pictures which had been so highly extolled. Neither did they see any thing remarkable in the gate of the Augustins, but the ornaments with which it is loaded. It faces a castle or palace of the Duke of Alva, part of whose estates is situated in the neighbourhood of Salamanca. These estates and castles seem to feel the continual absence of their lords; a reflection which a tour in Spain will suggest at every step. While the opulent proprietors do not enliven their domains, at least by their occasional presence, the patriotic societies, the establishment of manufactures, the encouragements to draining, and a thousand other salutary measures will only be vain palliatives of the evils which have been for ages undermining the Spanish monarchy.

During the last war the battle of Salamanca stands very conspicuous, and the whole country, through which Dr. Walker and his young friend now passed, presented, generally speaking, a most dreary aspect, until they arrived at Almeida, just within the confines of Portugal,

SECTION V.

PORTUGAL.

THE surface of Portugal is in general rocky, but the numerous rivers, vineyards, and fine groves of orange and lemon trees beautifully diver sify it. The air is so salubrious, particularly about Lisbon, that the consumptive, from most parts of Europe, resort thither,

Though there is a great number of barren mountains in Portugal, yet the inhabitants have plenty of vineyards, oranges, lemons, nuts, almonds, figs, and raisins; great quantities of salt are also procured from the seawater in the Bay of St. Ube's. The cattle is not held in much estimation, for the flesh of the horned cattle is lean and dry: and although there are many mules, they have few horses. Were the culture of grain more attended to, Portugal would be independent; but she imports this essential article chiefly from Morocco.

The exports of Portugal are chiefly wine, oil, oranges, lemons, figs, sugar, cotton, cork, drugs, tobacco, bullion, coin, diamonds, and other precious stones. And she imports from England and Ireland, woollens, hardware, large quantities of salt, and dried fish; of the last article to the amount of 200,0007. annually. The balance in favour of England is about 400,000l. and of Ireland, about 63,000l.

Portugal has large foreign possessions; Brazil, part of Paraguay, the Azores, Canaries, Cape Verd islands, and many scattered islands in the Indian Ocean. Besides which, the eastern part of Tranquebar, Goa, on the coast of Malabar, and the island of Macoa in the bay of Canton, are all Portuguese settlements. From Brazil, Portugal receives gold, silver, pearls, precious stones, rice, wheat, maize, sugar, molasses, timber, drugs, spices, and articles used in dyeing. She returns woollens, linens, stuffs, &c. and fish.

From Almeida our travellers continued their route to Abrantes, famous for the victory gained there by Marshal Junot, who was made Duke of Abrantes, by Buonaparte upon the occasion. It is agreeably situated on the Tagus, along the banks of which, Dr. Walker and his young friend pursued their agreeable journey, till they reached Santaram. To the Doctor, who had taken a deep interest in all the fluctuations of the Portuguese war, every spot had the power conjuring up innumerable associations; and the nearer they approached the capital, these associations became more frequent and powerful.

of

"What extraordinary vicissitudes has the capital of Portugal undergone," said he, as they entered Lisbon! Scarcely

had it recovered the fatal effects of the dreadful earthquake in 1755, when the overwhelming effects of the French Revolution, plunged it in fresh calamities."

As the evening was closing in, when our travellers entered the Portuguese capital, they resolved on having a comfortable tête à tête, and having taken some refreshment, Edward called upon the Doctor to fulfil a promise he had given him of detailing the fatal effects of the earthquake."

DR. WALKER." I am ready to fulfil my promise if you require it; but I have a letter in my portmanteau from a friend introducing me to a gentleman, who was but a youth when the catastrophe happened; but upon whom it made so deep an impression that as he grew up, he became fond of solitude and retirement, and at length took shelter in a convent of Dominicans. If he is still living, he would perhaps be able to give us a most interesting account of a scene to which he was an eye witness."

Edward said he should be happy to accompany his friend to the convent, and on the following morning they set off for the monastery of -. Upon knocking at the gate, and enquiring for the father Francis, the porter told them, the reverend father had just breathed his last, but entreated they would enter, while he informed the superior of their visit; they waited for some time, and at length were informed that on the following day the superior would be happy to see them.

Father Francis had been greatly beloved by the whole fraternity, and his death although at his advanced age, (he was near eighty,) was daily to be expected, it caused an unusual sensation in the monastery. The superior received them with courtesy, and said he was happy to have it in his power to commit to their care some papers which the father wished particularly to be conveyed to England. They were addressed to the very gentleman from whom Dr. Walker had his letter of introduction, and as he was informed they contained merely an account of the earthquake of 1755, and his own feelings upon that melancholy occasion, Dr. Walker made no scruple of looking at them, and then giving them to Edward. Upon their return to their inn, after a short liminary introduction, the latter went on as follows. "On the 1st November 1755, having just quitted my father's palace, I was suddenly alarmed by a violent shock of an earthquake, it seemed to last about the tenth part of a

pre

minute, during this short space of time every church and convent, the royal palace, the palace of the inquisition, and the opera-house, together with the greater part of the houses, all fell, and the city became, in an instant, a heap of ruins. My first impulse was to fly, for the shocking sight of the dead bodies, the shrieks and cries of those who, half buried in the ruins, soliciting the aid of the survivors, presented such a scene of horror as surpasses all description. Not far distant from me I saw my servant Pedro. Overjoyed at the sight, I approached towards him, he pointed to the spot where our palace stood. Mechanically I turned; the thoughts of my. father, mother, and two sisters overpowered me. I retraced my steps-another shock of the earthquake threw open a part of it. I heard a shriek—it was my mother's voice, I flew to the spot, saw her, and that was all. I fell from the violence of the concussion, and when I rose, the aperture was closed. Pedro now insisted I should leave the spot; but strong as was the love of life, I still clung to the hope that I might possibly rescue some part of my family, and refused to quit the spot, until exhausted by my exertion, by contending feelings, and the scene of horror that surrounded me, I sunk senseless on the ground. When I recovered, I found myself in a neighbouring field, the faithful Pedro by my side chafing my temples and my hands, while the big tears rolled. down his aged cheeks. My dear young master,' he exclaimed. His words shot a thrilling chillness through my frame-they seemed to say, 'thou art all I've left.' This cold faintness was succeeded by the burning glow of fever. Starting from my seat, I fled, not knowing whither; but on all sides I was surrounded by the same recollections. Poor Pedro in vain pursued me; but his unwearied diligence at length discovered me half cloathed, seated by the side of a small rivulet, weaving rushes-he feared to approach me, and yet still more to leave me; at length he espied a countryman, and beckoning to him, they crept softly beside me, and secured me. They conveyed me by easy stages to Evora, where by the kindness and attentions of some of the inhabitants, my reason was restored in the course of time to its former tone; but my spirits had received too severe a shock to enable me to enter the busy scenes of life; and although but eighteen, I resolved on embracing the monastic life. From Pedro I learnt, at different times, farther particulars of that calamity, which had deprived me at one blow of my