OBIDOS, LEIRIA, AND THOMAR There are many places besides Cintra where ancient strongholds are to be found. In a land where there was so much fighting every town had to be protected, and throughout the country you come across old-world places which but for the tumble-down state of the fortifications can hardly have changed since the days when Moors and Christians struggled for supremacy. One such old town is Obidos, won from the Moors in 1148. I remember it as I saw it last, perched high on its steep and rocky hill, with battlements, towers, and the ruins of the castle standing out dark and formidable against a glowing sunset sky. It is the quaintest little place in the world, carrying one’s thoughts back to the Middle Ages, and scarcely a house has crept beyond the shelter of its high, castellated walls. There are only two narrow fortified gateways, beneath whose arches the inhabitants pass in and out. Within the walls are the tightly-packed houses, low and picturesque, and numerous churches. The narrow, winding streets are full of dark-eyed children, gaunt pigs, and straying donkeys, while flowers hang in masses of brilliant colour over every wall and balcony. In other towns the protecting fortress stands alone on some high outcrop of rock, while the houses nestle at its foot, as, for instance, at Leiria. Centuries ago it was a Roman centre of some importance, and later on Suevis, Visigoths, and Moors held sway there in turn, until it was finally taken by King Alfonso Henriques in about 1135. More than a hundred years later King Diniz lived there, and on the site of the Moorish stronghold he built the great castle the ruins of which dominate the town to this day. Surrounded by hills, and standing on the green banks of the River Liz, Leiria is now a sleepy, picturesque country town, with a cathedral, a market-square, wide, shady walks skirting the river, and quaint little streets spanned at intervals by arches. It seems strange now to think of the stormy days when knights in armour rode up the winding way that leads to the castle, yet later years have also brought fire and sword to this peaceful valley. In the Peninsular War, between 1807 and 1810, the French troops passed through it no less than three times, and under Marshal Junot and General Margaron it was given over to pillage and violence. Some twenty miles or more away, beyond hill-tops clothed with pine-woods and heather, and valleys rich with olives, figs, and vines, lies Thomar, another town sheltering beneath a high castle-crowned hill.