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THE OCTOBER NUMBER OF

AINSWORTH'S MA GAZI N E.

EDITED BY

W. HARRISON AINSWORTH, ESQ:

Contents.
I. JAMES THE SECOND; OR, THE REVOLUTION OF 1688.

AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE. EDITED BY W. HARRISON

AINSWORTH, ESQ. ILLUSTRATED BY R. W. BUSS.
BOOK THE FIFTH.—The Royal Fugitives—Chap. I. The Camp of the In-

vader.—Chap. II. Siege of Newgate.-Chap. III. How the Queen left

Whitehall. - Chap. IV. The Queen's Flight to France. II. LAO, THE PIPER. BY W. HUGHES, ESQ. III. FRAGMENTS FROM THE LIFE AND POETRY OF SAPPHO ;

IMITATED AND TRANSLATED. BY THOMAS ROSCOE, ESQ. IV. PEPE THE PIRATE. A ROMANCE, BY WILLIAM H. G.

KINGSTON, ESQ.
PART II.-The Pirate Married.--Chap. VI. The John and Mary, ber

Captain, her Passengers, and her Freight.-Chap. VII. The Pirate
Schooner. Chap. VIII. Captain Pepe and the Major show delicate
Attention to Donna Marina and Donna Isabelita.--Chap. IX. Lieutenant
Brookes, of the “ Sea-gull,” expects to catch Pepe “napping," but finds
him “wide awake.”—Chap. X. Pepe is caught“ napping." -Chap. XI.

Captain Brookes's last Interview with Pepe the Pirate.
V. POMPEII AND HERCULANEUM. (SKETCHES OF CELE-

BRATED RUINS.) BY NICHOLAS MICHELL.
VI. THE GHOST OF THE ROAD SIDE INN. A BRETON TALE.

BY W. HUGHES, ESQ.
VII. LAUNCELOT WIDGE. BY CHARLES HOOTON, ESQ.

CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FOURTH discloses something more, and shows how

benevolently Mr. Sandhill strove to damp the Spirits of the young Artist. CHAPTER THE THIRTY-FIFTH.-Shows how Doctor Carious and Mrs. Tho

roton took the Alarm, while Mr. Thoroton remained steadfast and

threatened Vengeance. CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SIXTH.—Mr. Thoroton visits Saul ; with the Con

versation that passed between them.—The Fate of Hollis is decided. CHAPTER THE THIRTY-SEVENTH- -Wherein Mr. Hollis passes an Evening

in the Society of Launcelot Widge and Richard Stretcher, Esquires. CHAPTER THE THIRTY-EIGHTH.—Mr. Widge in Trouble, is comforted by

Stretcher. -- The Lay-Figure arrested. Gabriel's Reconciliation, and

promise of an Odd Story. CHAPTER THE THIRTY-NINTH.- Mr. Gabriel Widge.-Mrs. Widge and

the Mysterious Lady.--A Revelation. VIII. A TIGER HUNT ON THE WESTERN COAST OF MEXICO, IX. LONDON IN 1724, AND THE OLD ENGLISH GUIDE-BOOKS.

BY THOMAS WRIGHT, M.A. X. PROGRESS OF AUSTRALIAN DISCOVERY. BY W, FRANCIS

AINSWORTH, ESQ. XI. THE GASCONS OF 1585; OR, THE FORTY-FIVE.” AN

HISTORICAL ROMANCE. BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS. X. The League.-XI. His Majesty's Apartment in the Louvre. Boor II. -1. The Ghost of Chicot.-II. The Two Ambassadors.III. The Serenade.--IV. Chtcot's Purse.

CHAPMAN AND HALL, 186, STRAND.

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

A YEAR IN PORTUGAL DURING THE LATE REBELLION.

We were advised to wander from our native shores in the hope of finding in a more genial clime that health which their wintry blasts denied us ; nor were we disappointed in the search, when, invited by an old friend, we took up our abode at his mansion in the neighbourhood of Cporto.

We will not dwell on the voyage from Southampton and its quickly passing annoyances. It was on a calm moonlight night, with the majestic sea smooth and bright as a crystal mirror, the soft land breeze just fanning our cheeks, that we came in sight of the cheering rays emitted from our Lady of the Light. A gun, followed by a couple of rockets and a blue light, called the attention of, and showed our whereabouts to the watchful pilot on the shore, and in a short time, we were seated in a large open boat, while our late home with cheerful lights streaming from her cabin windows was steaming away from us at the rate of ten knots an hour.

“ Out oars," was the order given to our noisy picturesque crew of sixteen men, by the pilot, Manoel, as he stood up in the sharp stern of his boat, and with quick jerks away they pulled towards the dreaded bar of the Douro. The bosom of the ocean rose and fell like some mighty giant breathing heavily in his sleep as we passed over the dangerous spot, but there was no other sign of aught to fear, and the only sound we heard was the subdued and regular fall of the waters on the rocky shore. Passing beneath the dark walls

of the Castle of St. João da Foz, on one side, and a long sand bank on the other, we glided calmly over the sometimes turbulent waters of the wine-bearing Douro. After a short detention by the custom-house guards at the Cantareira of Foz, we were allowed to proceed up the river to the city of Oporto, near which the residence of our friend was situated. Under the influence of the lovely scene and the

pure fresh air, albeit I suspect they knew it not, our boatmen with one accord broke forth into a subdued and harmonious melody which, for what we knew to the contrary, might have been a Portuguese version of

Row, brothers, row;" but the strains were more varied, and at all events less hackneyed to our ears.

A strange place always looks to most advantage by moonlight, like a waning beauty in a darkened room; the imagination is allowed more play, Time's ravages and the effects of bad taste are unobserved, all little imperfections are concealed while the beauty of the majestic outline is unimpaired. Go, view by the beams of the pale moon, Rome, Oxford, Venice,

Oct. - VOL. LXXXI. NO, CCCXXII.

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and Melrose, children of a decayed and lately galvanised system, who dare not court the light of day; but visit while the sun shines brightly forth the bustling scenes of London, ever young ; Paris, New York, and that infant of a day, Sydney, in the antipodes;-they, like beauty in its early youth, appear brightest when the world awakes to life and activity.

We passed up the dark mirror-like stream which reflected each star in its bosom between rugged and lofty rocks, till doubling a point we appeared to be in a large lake surrounded with illuminated buildings, palaces as we then thought, with marble columns; churches with tapering spires ; convents of nuns; coffee-houses full of gay and wealthy guests. We were soon undeceived in that respect; but the beauty of the scene, the tranquil water, the overhanging cliffs, the bright lights, were realities which we again often beheld with pleasure.

“ In oars," was the word, and our boat approached a rough and incommodious landing-place. A voice hailed us.

" Are those passengers by the steamer?”

It was that of our friend. He informed us that a coach awaited us, and a few steps brought us, to where stood, revealed by the bright glare of a blazing torch, a couple of huge oxen with long horns, and a heavy yoke over their necks. At their heads stood a man dressed in a straw cloak and a long goad in his hand. But what seemed most strange to our eyes was, that they were harnessed to the coach which was to convey us to the habitation of our friend.

“I thought the ladies would be nervous in a mule carriage, so I brought you my family coach," observed our friend, with all gravity, as we took our seats. " The road to my house is somewhat steep.-Vamos, we are ready."

The coachman, who walked alongside in the straw cloak, giving a poke to his oxen and uttering sundry loud and strange noises, the cumbrous vehicle began to rumble and roll forward in a way which put us forcibly in mind of the ocean we had just quitted, only the jerks were more sudden and uncertain, as it was impossible to say in which direction a rut or a stone might next send us. We progressed, however, at the rate of two miles an hour, up a very steep hill with a precipice on one side which made us feel grateful to our friend for securing the services of such trustworthy animals as our patient oxen, and in about half an hour all dangers of sea and roads passed, we were comfortably seated at a refreshing repast beneath his hospitable roof. The bright sun which rose in the pure unclouded sky on the following morning, revealed, if not the palaces I expected to see, yet a view picturesque and cheering in the extreme; white and yellow houses of varied architecture and of every size and shape, with bright red tiles ; convents and churches; innumerable orange groves, and vine-covered gardens, surrounded by pine woods ; quintas amid green fields ; blue hills and rocks with yellow sands, and the bright laughing ocean dotted with numerous white sails in the far distance. The air was fresh and exhilarating without an approach to bleakness, although winter was fast drawing on; the birds sang joyously, the flowers smelt sweetly, and I felt that I was in a land blessed peculiarly by the bounteous hand of Nature.

“We are progressing gradually, but surely,” said our friend, as our party assembled at the breakfast-table. “ A few

the road by which we ascended last night was not in existence, and nowhere beyond the barriers of the city could a wheeled carriage attempt to pass, except

years ago

there are

along the high road to Lisbon, and on that, one-half the time of the journey was spent, while the vehicle of the unfortunate traveller was sticking in the mud, or deep ruts ; now there are roads well formed and macadamised, radiating in all directions from the city, and even a railroad was talked of, but that was a bubble blown from the vast pipe of gambling speculation, and soon burst. It was to be carried up steep and lofty mountains, across deep valleys, over roaring torrents, among a thinly-scattered population, alongside a river, which serves admirably to convey the chief produce of the country, wine, to the city. It was, in fact, a mere trap to catch the unwary, many of whom were the sufferers. I mention it, because, although no honest man who knew the country would have advocated it, it threw discredit on the ordinary plain-sailing roads which are of so much importance to the civilisation of the country:

After breakfast we took a long ride through the city and its environs. Oporto stands on a collection of rocky hills, on the north bank of the Douro, whose waters actually wash the ancient walls of the city; and as

very

few streets on a level throughout its whole circumference, nature more than art contrives to keep them tolerably clean. On the opposite side, on the summit of a lofty Cliff, stand the ruins of the Serra Convent, now converted into a very strong fortification ; and below it, to the west, is the town of Villa Nova, composed chiefly of the lodges or stores where the famed Port wine is kept. This town is joined to Oporto by a handsome suspension-bridge passing from beneath one lofty cliff to another in the narrowest part of the stream, but in so inconvenient a position that at very high tides it is only to be approached by boats. Before this modern innovation, a picturesque pontoon-bridge joined the opposite banks, but that used now and then to take a cruise down the stream when its waters were swollen by the wintry torrents of the upper country. Oporto is full of huge convents with iron-barred windows ; churches richly ornamented, though of no regular order of architecture; houses with innumerable balconies, and many stories, long flights of stone steps ; streets of interminable length, and lanes dark, narrow, and dirty, twisting and turning in every direction, and yet I have seen houses higher, streets dirtier, and lanes quite as repulsive much nearer home. The city is almost surrounded with rugged lines of rocks, which form excellent natural fortifications; and on the top of them the warlike and liberty-loving inhabitants have thrown up numerous forts, which, if well defended, might bid defiance to a very numerous foe. Outside of these serras are fields and quintas, and beyond these again, pine-groves and rocky ground, with blue hills in the distance. Picturing this scene to yourself, you may

have a tolerable idea of what Oporto is like. It is between two and three miles from the sea and the village of St. João da Foz, towards which a road runs along the side of the river, as does another at the top of the cliffs. Foz is the bathing-place of Oporto, and has a castle at the very

entrance of the Douro. Several new roads have lately been formed, radiating in various directions from Oporto : one towards Braga, which is completed, with the exception of a league ; another towards Guimaraens; a third towards Valongo and the Wine Country ; and a fourth on the south bank towards Lisbon, equalling in every respect the best roads in any part of the world. “When these roads are completed, I will drive you in my carriage

through the neighbouring provinces,” said our friend. We never made our projected tour. Every thing we saw wore the aspect of peace, happiness, and plenty. The peasants, as they trudged home from their daily toil, their wooden shoes stuck on a pole over their shoulders, beguiled the

way with cheerful songs, and civilly took off their hats as we passed, with a blessing on our heads ; the women were ever ready with a smile or an innocent joke; and although a few professional beggars of squalid appearance were to be seen going their daily rounds, judging from what I saw, I should have pronounced

the Portuguese to be as happy and contented a people as any under the sun. Some grumbled, perhaps, a little about taxes, rents, and tithes, and could not comprehend the advantage of having new roads, when the old ones had served their ancestors for so many generations, but, as far as I could learn, they had no very tangible cause of complaint. Costa Cabral was their minister, and, in imitation of the most despotic master the country ever possessed (Pombal), was beginning to draw the reins of government somewhat tightly, to the very great anger of the upper classes, who were the first to feel the curb. The queen, too, it was said, was kept in the most complete ignorance of all his proceedings, not a paper or petition could be presented to her without his inspection. The public money, it was whispered, was not always expended for the public service; and, at all events, titles and honours were sold to the highest bidders, the proceeds of which went into the capacious pocket of the minister or his brother. This example was followed, of course, by a host of admiring subordinates ; and a still larger number of envious idlers of all ranks were eager to step into their places, not so much for the honour of the employment as to taste of the loaves and fishes they saw, but were forbidden to touch.

The only chance a minister in Portugal has of keeping his post, is to persuade his countrymen that he himself and all his employés are starving. Let him do this, and few will be found anxious to take his place.

Soon after our arrival, we were invited to a ball given by the members of the Assemblea, the first Oporto club. It is very similar to the Casino of Italy, only all gentlemen may become members without regard to their patents of nobility. The ball-room is very handsome, the arrangements excellent, and the company unexceptionable in appearance and manner. Quadrilles were chiefly danced, the waltz and Polka not being much in vogue among the Portuguese ladies. The stewards received their lady guests at the door with all the courtesy of the ancient règime, conducting them to seats and providing them carefully with partners throughout the evening. We came away much pleased, and certainly from what we there saw or heard, we should not have supposed what a mine was about to explode beneath our feet. We drove to the house in an ox-carriage, and as we drew up at the door we were received by a military guard, and a servant in a large cocked-hat and gorgeous livery, whom at first we mistook for a general of brigade at least. The small square in front of the building was filled with coaches and omnibuses, the oxen of which, after having drawn them thither, were lying peacefully on the ground among their drivers, forming a scene truly Arcadian, lighted up by the bright glare of torches.

A few nights afterwards, we went in the same primitive conveyance to the theatre, where we heard an Italian opera very well performed. It is

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