On the tenth morning, with a gentle breeze, and spotless sky, we glided along the rugged coast of Portugal, and observed a number of barks making towards us, decorated with white flapping sails, and filled with swarthy raggamuffin pilots, who were hallooing, pulling, and hauling at each other in a confused way, which gave the frail bark the appearance of being about to overturn keel uppermost, and leave its brown visaged cocked-hatted navigators floundering and splashing for their existence in the briny waves of the dark blue ocean. Shortly afterwards we entered the sparkling waters of the Tagus, skirted by purple-capt mountains, curling vines, fragrant orange groves, and a white city, reflected in its glassy waters, canopied by an azure sky, a golden sun, and a genial atmosphere. We dropped our anchor within a short distance of Lisbon. The following day, the 28th, we landed, and the soldiers took up their quarters at the Convento di Carmo. The interior of the city by no means corresponds with the exterior, as viewed at a distance, owing to the general narrowness of the streets that are choked up in some places with heaps of filth, continually stirred up, and eagerly devoured by packs of prowling and half-famished dogs. Towards evening a small piece of paper was handed to myself and friend, with the name of a Portuguese inserted, at whose house we were to be quartered. Having made the necessary inquiries of a bragging native, he pointed out to us the direction we ought to take, and also made motions, by way of intimating to us our good fortune in having so spacious an abode for our accommodation. Having traversed over a great portion of the town, in search of our billet, we at length came to a large gloomy-looking mansion, the door of which we found open, and ascended a dirty stone stair case, where at each landing-place we found ponderous doors: but it was in vain we kicked, thumped, and called; the echo of our own voices was the only answer returned.