VISIT TO CINTRA.

543 Queen of Portugal, and sister to Dom Pedro of Brazil. Doña Maria died in 1853, and Don Fernando became regent until his first son, Dom Pedro V., was of age. Dom Pedro reigned six years, and was succeeded by his brother, the present sovereign. Americans will be pleased to know that his majesty, on his second marriage, selected a Boston lady. The marriage is morganatic—that is to say, the Church blesses it, but the lady not being royal, the law will not recognize her as queen. Countess d'Edla, as she is called, is much respected in Lisbon. When the General called she escorted him through the various treasure rooms of the palace and seemed delighted to meet one of her countrymen, and especially one who had ruled her country. Countess d'Edla seems to have had a romantic career. She studied music, and came to sing in Lisbon. Here Don Fernando made an acquaintance which ripened into love, and in 1869 she became his wife. Don Fernando, like his son the king, is an accomplished man, skilled in languages and literature, with an especial interest in America. He talked to General Grant about California and the Pacific coast, and expressed a desire to visit it. His majesty has a curious and wonderful collection of pictures, bric-à-brac, old armor and old furniture-one of the most curious and interesting houses in Europe. He is fond of painting, and showed us with pride some of his painting on porcelain.

Finally Don Fernando gave us a pressing invitation to visit his palace at Cintra. A visit to Cintra was down in our programme, but the king's invitation put the palace at our disposal, a privilege rarely given. Cintra is about fifteen miles from Lisbon, and we were compelled to go early in the morning. Our party included the General and his wife, Mr. Dimon, our Consul; Viscount Pernes, and Mr. Cunha de Maier, formerly Portuguese Consul General in the United States, and author of a history of the United States in Portuguese. Mr. Moran, our Minister, was unable to join us on account of indisposition. The drive was attractive, through a rolling, picturesque country, with cool breezes coming in from the sea that made overcoats pleasant. Cintra is one of the famous spots in Europe, but

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when one speaks of it he turns almost by instinct to "Childe Harold." You will find Byron's majestic stanzas describing Cintra in the first canto:

"The horrid crags, by toppling convent crowned,
The cork trees hoar that clothe the shaggy steep,
The mountain moss by scorching skies imbrowned,
The sunken glen, whose sunless shrubs must creep,
The tender azure of the unruffled deep,
The orange tints that gild the greenest bough,
The torrents that from cliff to valley leap,
The vine on high, the willow branch below,
Mixed in one mighty scene, with varied beauty glow.

"Then slowly climb the many-winding way,
And frequent turn to linger as you go,
From loftier rocks new loveliness survey,
And rest ye at Our Lady's House of Woe,"
Where frugal monks their little relics show,
And sundry legends to the stranger tell;
Here impious men have punished been, and lo!
Deep in yon cave Honorias long did dwell,

In hope to merit heaven by making earth a hell."

Nearly seventy years have passed since Byron visited Cintra, and the picture is as perfect now as when drawn. There was some difficulty in finding the cork trees, and General Grant began to be skeptical as to their existence and was thinking of offering a reward to Mr. Dimon to find one. But the consul redeemed Byron's veracity as a painter of scenery by bringing us to a small cork grove on the side of the mountain. Many changes have taken place since Byron was here. The "toppling convent" was seized by the Government, and in time became the property of Don Fernando, and at a vast expense he has rebuilt it into a château or palace, one of the most beautiful in the world. The "horrid crags" are traversed by good roads, and we ride upon our donkeys as easily as we could ride up Fifth Avenue. The mountain moss and the sunken glens have all been covered with a rich vegetation, notably of the camellia, which is rarely seen in this latitude, but which his majesty has made to grow in profusion. Our Lady's House of Woe is the

palace of a prince, and as we ride under the overarching doorway attendants in royal livery are waiting. The house is in Norman-Gothic style, and the rooms are what you might see in other palaces. There is a small chapel of rare beauty, with exquisite carvings in marble and jasper illustrating the passion of our Lord. The beauty of Cintra is seen in its fullness as you stand on the lofty turrets. It is built on the summit of a rocky hill three thousand feet high. The descent on one side to the village is a triumph of

On the other side the descent is almost precipitous. You look from the giddy height at the trees and the tumbled masses of rock, tossed and heaped in some volcanic age. You see the landscape rise and swell in undulating beauty, and the lengthening shadows rippling over it. Far off are the lines of Torres Vedras, built by Wellington's armies to de

fend Lisbon from the

French. Beyond is the sea, gleaming like amber and pearl. It was over that sea that Vasco de Gama sailed, and from this lofty summit King Manuel watched his coming, and in time saw him. come, bringing tribute and empire from the Indies. You can see, if you look carefully, the outlines of Mafra palace, built to rival the Escurial. You see the Tagus spreading out to the sea, forcing its way through forests and hills and valleys until it falls into the ocean's arms. Lisbon lies under the Monsanto hills, but the view sweeps far beyond Lisbon until it is lost in

the ocean. There was a fascination in this view that made us loath to leave it, and for a long time we lingered, watching every tint and shadow of the picture under the changing sunlight. It is indeed "the glorious Eden" of Byron's verse.

There was a long ride through the gardens and the woods on our donkeys until we came to Montserrat. It was here that Beckford, author of "Vathek," whom Byron calls "England's wealthiest son," built a château. The view is almost as beautiful as that from the towers of Don Fernando's palace. Beckford's house came into the possession of a wealthy English merchant named Cook, but upon whom the king has lately conferred the

title of Viscount of Montserrat. Mr. Cook has spent a vast sum of money upon the house and grounds. The house is in the Oriental style-a long parallelogram in the center, with two oval wings, and all surrounded with columns and balconies, from which you can look out upon the valley, the plains that sweep toward the sea, the sea alone breaking the horizon. The grounds, however, are among the finest in Europe for the value and rarity of the plants and the care with which all is preserved. Notwithstanding its beauty, Mr. Cook only spends two months of the year at Montserrat. His other months are spent in England managing his affairs. There is an old royal palace to be seen, which was the Alhambra of the Moors in their day of triumph. The kings of Portugal lived here before the discovery of America, and one of the legends goes back to a century before that time. The palace is a large straggling building, with many chambers, and as it is no longer used as a royal residence, the General was curious to know why it could not be rented as a summer boarding-house and made to contribute to the revenues of the king. In its day it was, no doubt, a pleasant home; but with the three or four vast palaces in Lisbon and its suburbs, palaces with modern comforts, the old Moorish castle can well be kept as one of the monuments of the nation.

We walked and drove around Cintra village. General Grant was so charmed with the place that he regretted he could not remain longer. There was a royal engagement bidding him to Lisbon, so we dined at Victor's Hotel, and as the night shadows came down bundled into our carriages for the long drive home.

The air was clear, the sky was bright, and it was plesant to bound over the stony roads and watch the brown fields; to pass the taverns, where peasants were laughing and chatting over their wine; to roll into the city, and feel the breezes from the river as we came to our hotel. We had made a long journey, and the hills we climbed made it fatiguing. But no one spoke of fatigue, only of the rapturous beauty which we had Cintra itself is worth a long journey to see, and to be remembered when seen as a dream of Paradise.

scen.