MADEIRA.
11
of the equator, a second visit to Madeira would not charm me so deeply as the first; I have seen ocean and sky of a still brighter hue, and trees and flowers and mountains of still more beautiful and awful shapes. But I left England in December, shivering and melancholy under a rain of two months continuance; foul winds, eternal tacking, a tremendous gale, and the Bay of Biscay destroyed my spirits and increased my rheumatism; so that I longed after Madeira as for a land of promise, and the first sight of Porto Santo, with its scattered islets, its broken rocks, and verdant dells, filled my heart with that joy which no one can feel who has not made a voyage on the ocean. Hallamonos cerquita de muy ledo Puerto hermoso y lleno de frescura, De arboles, naranjos y frutales, Bastante de sanar a dos rail males.
Early on the morning of the 1st of January, 1825, we came slowly into the Bay of Funchal. The town, the country-houses, and Nossa Senhora do Monte glistered like silver through the thin mist which floated on the bosom of the mountains. The bells of many churches soon began to hail the new year with that blessed sound, which mariners, beyond all others, love to hear. The guns of salute roared from our ship, and the Ilheo or Loo Rock answered them across the water. A clumsy boat with four dark Madeiran rowers conveyed me to the