Lisbon Travel Praga dos Restauradores

The home of the royal bodies Notable Pragas, Praga dos Restauradores,  The Parque Eduardo vn.  The Geographical Institute The tracks of the old navigators The road to glory and back Some museums Public lifts Street scenes Natural amiability of the Portuguese.

But the subject is apt to lead one too far afield. One is at present concerned only with the starting-point of these intrepid mariners, Lisbon. Of the other similar institutions, perhaps the most interesting is the Archaeological Museum not for what it holds, for its contents are somewhat insignificant both in interest and in value, but for its situation in the fine old ruins of the Carmo Church, with its magnificent archway and the splendid columns of the main aisle that prick upwards to the sky, innocent of any roof above. The ruins form one of the many tributes to the devastating power of the great earth quake, and the level of the street in front of the building is said to have been raised several feet by the debris of masonry upon which the thoroughfare is constructed. The Artillery Museum, with its array of firearms ancient and modern, its paintings, and its numerous relics of the Peninsular War, is well worth a visit. The Museo National de Bellas Aries con tains a collection representative of the Portuguese school of painting, as well as a certain number of foreign masterpieces. There are here, moreover, some especially fine specimens of the national porcelain tiles the Azulejos, with their well-wrought designs and numerous objets d'art that are typical of the culture of the land.

In order to cope with the seven accepted hills of Lisbon, to say nothing of those remaining eminences that, though officially ignored, nevertheless exist, the town is adequately supplied with lifts. Great erections of steel and iron, the shafts usually point upwards clear into the air in the manner of towers, their summits being connected with the nearest terra firma above by means of an aerial passage. The most prominent of these is that of the Carmo, by which one mounts from the busy Rua Aurea to the Praga de CamSes and the western portion of the town. From the triple row of galleries that surmount the shaft a magnificent view of the city is obtainable, and the working of the lift itself as is that of the rest is efficient and comfortingly smooth. Lisbon has already solved the question of mixed transit facilities that has been agitating the travel authorities of London, and tickets for the lifts are issued in connection with the tramway routes.

Although to a certain extent lacking the added life that the open-air cafes lend to some of the more central European towns, there is no want of animation in the streets of Lisbon. Natur ally enough, the chief tide of the city ebbs and flows along the Rua Aurea and its parallel streets that run between the two great Pradas of Commercio and of Dom Pedro iv., and then, passing by the main railway terminus and the Praga dos Restauradores, rolls onwards again along the broad Avenida da Liberdade. If the new arrival would obtain the most comprehensive glimpse of the street life of the capital he could not, perhaps, do better than make for the Cafe Suisso that faces the Central Railway Station. From the point of vantage of the chairs and tables that fringe the place for the open air cafe, though not general, is by no means unknown he can survey one of the chief human arteries of the town at his leisure. From the outset it will be evident that even here the national traits mingle strongly with the more conventional ethics of cosmopolitanism. The motor-car will hoot past the quaint country cart, while the carriage and pair, its coachman and groom liveried de rigueur, will roll past a train of laden pack mules. The frock-coat will brush by the gaudy shawl of the barefooted fisherwife, and the brilliant uniform of a cavalry officer will contrast strangely with the coloured coat and blanket of the ' Saloio,' the small farmer, or the yet humbler countryman who has come into the town. Standing at the street corners are the public porters, awaiting custom. Slung over their shoulders is the stout cord with which they bind together the trunks and boxes under the burden of which they are wont to go staggering along. For sound one has the ordinary rumble of traffic, the clang of tramcar bells, and the calls of the newspaper vendors and lottery -ticket sellers. Every now and then a small boy will go past, mounted upon the very hindermost portion of a tall horse. Why these youthful grooms prefer to sit practically upon their mount's tail is a matter of mystery, but the fact remains.

There are times when, to the sound of music and of beaten drums, a cart rolls slowly past, filled with men in bull-fighting costume an advertisement that never fails to evoke emotion amidst the populace. One knows then that it is the eve of a Corrida de Touros. At other times, and especially just before the festivities of the new year, the Prada suffers visitations of quite another kind. Then, great flocks of turkeys strut proudly through the streets, guarded and guided by country men with long wands. Gobbling defiance to street urchin and electric tramcar alike, they hold up the traffic until they reach the Praa. And every one yields them the pas with the utmost good-nature. Even the driver who chances to be pressed for time a condition that obtains fairly frequently in Lisbon, though sufficiently rare without the walls will wait with equanimity until the last ranks of the feathered bodies and arrogant necks have passed by.

For in this, as in all else, good-nature is essentially a trait of the Portuguese. Deeply imbued in the national character, nowhere is the spirit of give and take better understood than in Portugal. And, since the virtue is grafted upon a sturdy enough temperament, the truest acts of civility are wont to be performed in the simplest and most genuine fashion. Of those who have travelled not only through Portugal, but amongst the Portuguese people themselves in these days the first hypothesis does not invariably involve the other there are few who cannot testify to this. The peasant who will walk a mile out of his path to put the wayfarer on his right road utterly without expectation of reward for the act, and the other who will offer to share his humble meal with the stranger, not only from the accepted etiquette of the land, but from the generosity of his heart one may meet them many times over in the course of a single day's march. And, although necessarily far less obvious amidst the turmoil of the capital, the same spirit animates the Lisbon folk in general. As it is shared, moreover, by officials, tram-conductors and, of course, in a far lesser degree by those natural birds of prey, the cab-drivers a very few weeks' sojourn in Lisbon is sufficient to demonstrate the inestimable advantage of this national amiability.

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