were therefore obliged to abandon, and made the rest of the journey on foot, or in a hammock upon the shoulders of men. The road lies through the bed of the torrent, and we were compelled to climb over boulders and masses of rock, which have been detached from the stupendous cliffs on either side, or been driven down by the violence of the winter storms. They are of enormous bulk, and attest the power of the torrent that has dislodged them. It may well be supposed that a journey over these is exhausting. It is, indeed, achieved only by those whose passion for the picturesque subdues physical fatigue. Falling sometimes from, sometimes against a rockslipping at one time among the sharp stones, and at another into the current-after a struggle of two hours we reached the waterfall, muddied, bruised and exhausted. But as the scene presents itself suddenly to our view, we feel, for the moment at least, fully compensated. The effect is indeed grand. There had been a short time previous to my first visit a copious fall of rain, and the stream, as it broke through the opening gorge, and fell nearly three hundred perpendicular feet, occupied our minds with gratified awe. Here, a view of this kind is prized more highly than in countries more abounding with well-filled streams. The rich and wild island scenery, otherwise incompar able, loses much of its beauty from the lack of inland

water.

But far more agreeable than to the Church of our Lady, upon the "New Road," or to the waterfall, was, for me, the ride to Camacha. Not only that it was bordered with villas and quintas-among them 'Palheiro," the country seat of the late Conde de Carvalho-and with groves of beautiful trees-not that it commanded a glorious view of the Disertas,

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THE QUINTA AT CAMACHA.

the promontory of Sao Lourenço, with its fossil-bed two hundred and fifty feet above the level of the sea, as well as other no less striking natural splendors— but chiefly because I found at Camacha the loveliest quinta and warmest welcome in all Madeira. Inclosed on three sides with embracing hills, which will not beteem the winds of heaven to visit its face too roughly, and open on the other o'er varied and picturesque scenery to the ocean, one would suppose these grounds laid out by Nature in one of her happiest moods. With glens and running streams, cascades and ravines, precipice and natural lawn, brown heath and shaggy wood; where could we find a happier contrast, or more harmonious variety? What a place for a honeymoon! Here all day long (while it lasted!) we would while away the flying hours with Anna, Lizzie, Mary, or some other "inexpressive she;" sit down with her by the side of some waterfall, whose music her voice alone would excel (of course) in silvery sweetness-cull flowers more lovely than aught save her cheeks, and more fragrant than aught save her breath-descend some glen, whose gloom no sun has penetrated, and find it illuminated by her presence-cross ravines deeper than plummet-reach, and feel no fear with her-look at her, think of her, talk with her, and feel no ennui the livelong day!

Is there such another place on all this earth? Do miracles repeat themselves?

A stream runs along the entering pathway of the grounds, and breaks into a gentle fall just as it reaches the house. I noticed, on my first approach, a party swimming and diving in the water directly under the fall. They were extremely décolletée, even more so than the present rage, and I hesitated to advance. Speering out, however, more leisurely from an ambus

THE BATHING LADIES.

47

cade, upon which, on the first danger, I had retreated, I discovered that these naiades were of wood, and that, in drawing nearer, I ran no risk of Actæon's fate. So I plucked up resolution and passed them. My frightened sensibilities soon recoved their wonted tone.

These figures, once caught in the vortex of the falling stream, are fated to incessant motion. They alternate between a plunge and a motion somewhat like the gait of a fashionable lady on entering or leaving a room. 'Tis n't a walk-'tis n't a glide-'tis n't a swim. It is a je ne sais quoi-a motion of the other limbs, like the arms in tossing a baby; doubtless quite fascinating and unnatural.

These wooden ladies can no more leave the circle of the falling water than Dante's damned, theirs—and have no more rest than his sufferers. It is funny to see them, naked from the waist upward, dance round, and, seemingly, attempt to get out of the vortex. They make such life-like exertions; and if they get too near the stream, and you see they are obliged to turn a somerset, you can always turn your back in time!

There is no more hospitable man on the island than the proprietor of this place-and there is no house visited with so much gratification. Ceremony exacts no toll at the door; the threshold once crossed, the freedom of the house is yours. Welcome meets you, and good-breeding leaves you at your ease.

No man had better wine or husbanded it less. He seemed to like to taste his choicest on the palate of a friend. I can speak gratefully of quantity and quality. After a ride of two or three hours from Funchal, a glass would fall upon my jaded powers like the dew on Hermon. Though wilted, I lifted up my head and freshened. The remembrance warms me now.

Two such persons-host and hostess-characterize

a place give it a tone, and make it inhabitable. Whether one mountain be a little higher than another, covered with snow, or bare-or one river somewhat deeper and wider than another—or one climate a little more moderate and salubrious-or fruit of the earth more plentiful and delicious, makes, after all, to the cosmopolite, but little difference.

The smile of the hostess as we enter the house, the exchange of intellectual sympathies while we remain, and the warm grasp which invites a repetition of our visit; these constitute the pleasure of a residence.

CHAPTER V.

THE LONGEVITY AND FECUNDITY OF MADEIRA-MENDICANCY-ANECDOTE OF A PRECOCIOUS YOUTH-ILL-REPAID LABOR

POETS have sung and physicians praised the delicious climate of Madeira; and I doubt if there be in the world a more salubrious. Never in any place of equal population, have I found among natives and residents so few affected by disease. I have seen and heard among these, none with pulmonary complaints. Longevity here, too, is more the rule than the exception— a general rather than a restricted enjoyment. The age of three of our stock company at whist, of whom I have spoken the two Conegos and the Colonelamounted to an aggregate of two hundred and fifteen years; and they had felt little or nothing of the benumbing influence of time. True it is that their habits of life had conduced much to the preservation so long of their mental and physical vigor; never in their youth did they apply hot and rebellious liquor in their blood -but much of both is fairly attributable to the salutary temperature of the climate. It knows no extreme of heat nor cold; and no sudden atmospheric reverses-the too frequent curse of climates less favored. The greatest rigor of winter in Funchal seldom, if ever, precipitates the mercury lower than 52 Fahrenheit; so that fires are unnecessary to comfort; while in summer, under the unbridled rage of the Dog Star, it rises in