ssary for me to make our friend understand, or for me to
die of suppression of urgent speech, I called to Joao and bade him
interpret. We were silent again until wine was brought. Then his
daughter, almost the only beautiful Portuguese or Madeiran girl I ever
saw, came in. We were introduced, and, in default of the correct thing
in her native language, I informed her, in a polite Spanish phrase I
happened to recollect, that I was at her feet. Then, as I knew her
brother in Funchal, I called for the interpreter and told her so as an
interesting piece of information. She gave me a rose, and, looking out
of the window, she taught me the correct Portuguese for Eagle's
Cliff--"Penha d'aguila." We were quite friends.

It was then time for us to return if we meant to keep to our word and do
the double journey in one day. But a vociferous expostulation came from
our host. He talked fast, waved his hands, shook his head, and was
evidently bent on keeping us all night. We again called in the
interpreter, explaining that our reputation as Englishmen, as horsemen,
as men, rested on our getting back to Funchal that night, and, seeing
the point as a man of honour, he most regretfully gave way, and, having
his own horse saddled, accompanied us some miles on the road. We rode up
another spur, and came to a kind of wayside hut where three or four
paths joined. Here was congregated a brightly-clad crowd of nearly a
hundred men, women and children. They rose and saluted us; we turned and
took off our hats. I noticed particularly that this man who owned so
much land and was such a magnate there did the same. I fancied that
these people had gathered there as much to see us pass as for Sunday
chatter. For English travellers on the north side of the island are not
very common, and I daresay we were something in the nature of an event.
Turning at this point to the left, we plunged sharply downwards towards
a bridge over a torrent, and here parted from our land-owning friend. We
began to climb an impossible-looking hill, which my horse strongly
objected to. On being urged he tried to back off the road, and I had
some difficulty in persuading him that he could not kill me without
killing himself. But a slower pace reconciled him to the road, and as I
was in no great hurry I allowed him to choose his own. Certainly the
animals had had a hard day of it even so far, and we had much to do
before night. We were all of us glad to reach the Divide and s