Through Portugal . mber, but everywhereelse was the impression of ardent, throbbing,exuberant life, such as all organic creation feelsunder the spur of stinging sunshine and the salttwang of the sea-breeze. The river gorge windsand turns so tortuously that the view forwardand backward is not extensive, but as far as theeye reaches on each side of the umber streamthe hills of houses and far-spread terraced vine-yards beyond rise precipitously, with just a quay-side at foot on the banks of the stream, throngednow with folk who swarm, gather, and separatelike gaudy ants, and apparently no bigger,
Through Portugal . mber, but everywhereelse was the impression of ardent, throbbing,exuberant life, such as all organic creation feelsunder the spur of stinging sunshine and the salttwang of the sea-breeze. The river gorge windsand turns so tortuously that the view forwardand backward is not extensive, but as far as theeye reaches on each side of the umber streamthe hills of houses and far-spread terraced vine-yards beyond rise precipitously, with just a quay-side at foot on the banks of the stream, throngednow with folk who swarm, gather, and separatelike gaudy ants, and apparently no bigger, asseen from the coign of vantage on the my left, as I stand looking towards the west,there crowns the summit of the ridge close bya vast white monastery against a green back-ground ; a monastery now, alas ! like all othersin this Catholic land, profan^ted and turned topurposes of war instead of peace, but, withal,there still rears its modest rood aloft upon thecrest one poor little round chapel where the. D o Q J OPORTO sainted image of Pilar of the Ridge stolidlyreceives the devotion of the faithful. To theright, the height is crowned by a vast squareepiscopal palace, and near it, over all, is theglittering golden cross that shines upon thecity from the summit of the square cathedraltowers. This is Oporto, The Port far excellence^which gives its name to Portugal, seen fromthe double-decked iron bridge of Dom Luisover the Douro. For days I had been striving in vain to getinto touch with the psychic principle of thisstrange city. I had mixed with the motleymultitudes that lounge and labour upon thequays, I had lingered in the gilded churcheswhere worshippers were ominously few, andstood for hours observant in chaffering market-places and amidst the crowds of saunteringcitizens in the inevitable Pra9a de Dom Pedro;but till the revelatory moment came to me inone enlightening flash upon the Bridge of DomLuis, I had always been alone in a foreign throngwhose composite inn
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Keywords: ., bookauthorhumemartinandrewsharp, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900
