That same night we entered the Tagus, and dropped anchor before the old tower of Belem; {3a} early the next morning we weighed, and, proceeding onward about a league, we again anchored at a short distance from the _Caesodré_, {3b} or principal quay of Lisbon. Here we lay for some hours beside the enormous black hulk of the _Rainha Nao_, a man-of-war which in old times so captivated the eye of Nelson, that he would fain have procured it for his native country. She was, long subsequently, the admiral’s ship of the Miguelite squadron, and had been captured by the gallant Napier {3c} about three years previous to the time of which I am speaking. The _Rainha Nao_ is said to have caused him more trouble than all the other vessels of the enemy; and some assert that, had the others defended themselves with half the fury which the old vixen queen displayed, the result of the battle which decided the fate of Portugal would have been widely different. I found disembarkation at Lisbon to be a matter of considerable vexation; the custom-house officers were exceedingly uncivil, and examined every article of my little baggage with most provoking minuteness. My first impression on landing in the Peninsula was by no means a favourable one; and I had scarcely pressed the soil one hour before I heartily wished myself back in Russia, a country which I had quitted about one month previous, and where I had left cherished friends and warm affections. After having submitted to much ill usage and robbery at the custom-house, I proceeded in quest of a lodging, and at last found one, but dirty and expensive. The next day I hired a servant, a Portuguese, it being my invariable custom, on arriving in a country, to avail myself of the services of a native, chiefly with the view of perfecting myself in the language; and, being already acquainted with most of the principal languages and dialects of the east and the west, I am soon able to make myself quite intelligible to the inhabitants. In about a fortnight I found myself conversing in Portuguese with considerable fluency. Those who wish to make themselves understood by a foreigner in his own language should speak with much noise and vociferation, opening their mouths wide. Is it surprising that the English are, in general, the worst linguists in the world, seeing that they pursue a system diametrically opposite? For example, when they attempt to speak Spanish—the most sonorous tongue in existence—they scarcely open their lips, and, putting their hands in their pockets, fumble lazily, instead of applying them to the indispensable office of gesticulation. Well may the poor Spaniards exclaim, _These English talk so crabbedly_, _that Satan himself would not be able to understand them_.