It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground,

And there a season a'tween June and May,

A listless climate made, where, sooth to say,

No living wight could work, ne cared ought for play.

CASTLE OF INDOLENCE.

Villa Franca.-Oranges.-Christmas.

DECEMBER 19.-LEFT Ponta Delgada at noon for Villa Franca, which is about fifteen miles distant; or rather, as time is the true measure of distance, four hours and a half journey on asses. The sumpter ass was laden very cleverly,-baskets, and carpet-bags, and portmanteaux,

were piled upon him, and being well balanced, were simply but firmly secured by "figure of eight" slings of cord. We soon reached the top of a cliff, through lanes enclosed by hedges of brambles as in England, and on each side fields divided in the same way. The road in some places was close to the edge of the cliffs, which rose almost perpendicularly from the sea. They were of black rock, much covered with a large species of heath,* growing to the size of a fine shrub, which deprived them of their cold barren look. At their base the sea was breaking into white foam either among masses of rock, or upon a beach of black sand.

As we proceeded, the scenery became more mountainous, the ascents were steeper, and the descents so precipitous as to make us admire the sure-footed sagacity of our asses. Every turn in the road gave us new views, which we relished more from having left the comparatively tame scenery of the neighbourhood of Ponta Delgada. Sometimes we passed deep glens running down to the sea, whose rocky sides were covered with ever-greens, and relieved by the light green leaves of majestic ferns hanging over them, as

Erica arborea.

light and feathery as if placed there in purposed contrast. They were in full beauty, and the moist warmth of the climate encourages their luxuriant growth.

In

Narrow lanes cut deep in the soft pumice which forms the bulk of these mountains, are altogether peculiar to volcanic countries. some places, where these lanes were very deep and narrow, the grey pumice was entirely destitute of vegetation; and as it is soft and yielding, was moulded by the gentle handling of the elements into smooth continuous curves. Above was a strip of sky looking farther off than it commonly does, and on each side a fringe of dark evergreens.

Now and then, figures in perfect harmony with the scenery enlivened it-women lightly clothed in white linen, with a water-jar of red pottery upon their heads, or peasants riding sideways on asses, or these same animals loaded with branches of wood;-the only living things that were unpicturesque were ourselves, clad in hats and Macintoshes as ugly and as useful coverings as were ever devised. Occasionally we passed close to the coast, and looked down on black rocks of the most fantastic shapes, over which

ROADSIDE CHAPEL.

65

the waves were tumbling and roaring, shedding on them their whitest spray. There was no difficulty in imagining that these rocks had once been a fluid, which ran boiling into the sea and was suddenly cooled. The black sands are these same rocks broken small by the sea; and as we passed on, the Atlantic was spreading over them vast carpets of white foam.

Among the mountains were two towns with conspicuous white churches edged with black; and near Villa Franca was a village built on the sides of a deep rocky ravine, through which a mountain-stream made its noisy way. Many of the white cottages were surrounded by orange trees loaded with fruit.

Before entering this village, in a deep and gloomy lane among the mountains, we passed a small stone building like a prison cell, but open in front, and surmounted by a stone crucifix. This was erected (as the custom is) on the spot where a man was murdered; and the peasants, as they pass it, raise their hats from their heads. This is a far better, and more civilized memorial than our gibbets. The stone cell marks the spot on which the murder was committed, and the cross points out the only

VOL. I.

F

hope for the guilty man or his victim. The gibbet could only produce a beastly fear, which must soon wear away. Custom may also deprive the crucifix of its effect on the imagination, and the peasant may feel no awe or reverence as he uncovers his head in passing; but the purpose is good, and the habit good, and may it last as long as the occasion!

About a mile beyond the village, we came in sight of Villa Franca, a small town, built on the edge of the coast. In front of it a rocky island rises abruptly out of the sea, and seems as if placed there to form a breakwater. Beyond the town there are pleasant fields, and behind them is a line of soft and rounded mountains, green to their tops.

By some mistake, the house at which we were to put up was pre-occupied, and we had to take up our quarters for the night in the upper room of a cottage belonging to Antonio Bicho and his wife Thomazia,-built for him by the English merchants of the island and others, as a reward for his having saved the lives of several Englishmen who were wrecked on the coast. He is a wild-looking fellow, with a gingerbread complexion, a harsh deep voice, and a face almost