TRAITS AND TRADITIONS OF PORTUGAL.

WHEN a British force was sent to Portugal by Mr. CANNING, Miss PARDOE accompanied her father, who was attached to the Army. She followed the regiment to its various destinations,— not the worst mode of travelling in a lawless land like Portugal; and varied the monotony of country-quarters by continual excur- sions in their respective neighbourhoods; by forming acquain- tances with the residents, whether gentle or simple, lay or clerical; and by penetrating into every nunnery or monastery where ad- mission was attainable. Hence the materials from which the pre- sent volumes were framed. The temporary interest attached to the country has perhaps been the proximate cause of their publica- tion; an honour, however, to which their own merits might have entitled them.

Miss PARDOE meddles neither with politics, political economy, nor science of any kind. She describes all she sees, when it is worth the description; picks up the traditions of the country, which she weaves into her narrative; and contrives in her tales and travels incidentally to paint the manners and give us some insight into the character of the Portuguese. Of the climate of Lusitania she speaks, as all who have known it speak, in raptures ; nor is she less delighted with its landscapes, from the wild gran- deur of its mountains and forests down to its vineyards, "its orange and citron . groves, its hedgerows of myrtle, and tufts of , wild geranium," intersected by majestic and broad-flowing rivers like the Tagus, or by buoyant and bubbling streams, now leaping from rock to rock, and " boiling into a light spray which glitters in the sun like a cloud of liquid silver "—now wending their course, more humble but not less beautiful, through a crag-bound valley or a fertile plain. Of the courtesy, contentedness, and simplicity of the peasantry, she leaves a very favourable impression; as wR1 as of the general character of the people, making due allowances for the workings of a weak but despotic government, and an ignorant, corrupt, and licentious clergy. As we have said, her tales are interwoven with her personal narrative ; sometimes being told by the persons she encounters, at others the authoress speaks in her own person. We prefer those which are of a modern date, and are more conversant with real life ; but even her wildest stories of dialderie have this trait of being genuine traditions, that they more or less paint the manners and superstitions of the people amongst whom the scene is laid. Altogether, by dint of anecdote, tales, and sketches, she conveys a very clear idea of Portugal as it is.

The work is light and pleasant reading : the mode of sketching, slight, but effective : the style, elastic, elegant, and smacking even of enthusiasm, but disfigured by the constant introduction of scraps of Portuguese. It is difficult to convey an idea of the work by independent extracts, as the effect it produces is accomplished by successive touches, and by considering it as a whole. We will, however, select a passage that will give some notion of the way in which Miss PAR DOE combines description, narrative, and story. It should be premised, that the authoress and her companion had left the regiment and the high-road, in search of the picturesque; and that, on suddenly emerging from a ravine, they found thorn- selves somewhat nearer the village of Redinha than the troops, who had kept the beaten track.

At length we commenced the descent ; and, after sundry slidings and slippings, stood safely on the witekirt of the plain : we were laughing gaily, and congra- tulating each other on our nerve and horsemanship' \Olen the sound of a full, clear, manly, and very melodious voice, came cheerfully on the wind; and, look- ing in the direction whence it proceeded, we discovered the singer not two hun- dred yards from us. His back was also to Lisbon ; and, like ourselves, he had evidently avoided the caleada : but, unlike us, he had merely skirted the moun- taim instead of traversing it, and had consequently gained in distance and con- yenieoce what we had gained in beauty and variety. He seas a man whom I should have turned to look after, had I passed him in the street of a city ; how much more then at the foot of a mountain ! More- over, Smeller Jose Joachim was well worthy of description fur his own sake— hut that was after-knowledge. The singer wzia a man of some twenty-three, or four, with the blackest eyes and the whitest teeth in all Portugal. He had a brow which would have suiteda noble, and a smile that would have graced a woman ; his complexion was that clear soft brown through which, in moments of emotion or excitement, the blood may be scen as it courses along the veins. Ile carried his letter of intro- duction in his face ; it would have been as impossible to have passed him with- out notice, as not to have admired him when seen. On his head he wore the usual sombrero (1) of the muleteer, but so covered with silver tags and cords and rosettes of black silk, that it was almost handsome, as well as picturesque ; his jacket was of velvet of a deep purple colour, but it was now thrown over the neck of a very fine Spanish mule, on which lee was mounted ; his waistcoat was of black velvet, thickly set with three rows of the bangin.g silver filagreed buttons, known in England as the Badajos button. Hound Ins waist lie wore a scarf of very bright scarlet, the two ends gracefully twisted together, ad hanging low upon the saddle; he lead bows of ribbon at his knees, with lueg ends streaming in the wind ; and there was altogether an air of coxcumbry and consciousness about him which showed that nature had not been prodigal of her gifts to one who was ungrateful for them. As he rode up to us, for we were slightly in advance of him, lie was evidently engaged in some occupation in which he was interested, and with which the song did not interfere ; I was not long in doubt as to its nature ; for,.as be approached,. a cloud of small feathers floated away past me, and when he raised his hat, and greeted us with the courteous Viva (2) of the country, I remarked that the other hand still grasped a half-plucked pigeon. With intuitive politeness, as he replaced his hat, he drew on the jacket which he had evidently taken of on account of the heat, remarking, as he did so, that had he known he should encounter "uma Senhora Ingleza," (3) he would have resumed it before. I made a suitable reply, at which he again took off his sombrero, and smiled, and showed his white teeth with evident gratification.

We could not decide on who or what he was; and he skilfully evaded such questions as we were able, without indelicacy, to ask. The entire costume was that of a muleteer, but the materials of his dress, and the air with which it war worn, were very superior to what was usually seen among that class of men. I made some conjectural remark to my companion, to which lie replied in the same tone, greatly to the amusement of our new friend, whose laugh rang out merrily as he said unhesitatingly, "You are wondering who I am—whence I cause—and whither I am bound. I came from Lisbon—I am going to Con- deixa—what I am called I will tell you another day. Em boca serrada na6 entra mosca." (4.)

5 •

We were now rapidly approaching Redinha; and,my companion, probably still in some degree distrusting our chamelion- like associate, pointed out to him the regiment about a mile in the rear of us. The Senhor shaded the sun from. his eyes with his spread band, nodded his head, and asked if we were to halt in Redinha for the night. We replied in the negative : we were on our way to C,ondexia.. The smile with which he heard that were merely passing through the village, and should only halt to dinner, was one of genuine satisfaction. "Bed people! bad people ! ' he said, waving his hand, and contracting his eye- brows into something bordering on the dark expression which had before ga- thered on his countenance, " thieves—robbers ! you know, Senhor Capitano," addressing my friend, "that we swarm with robbers ; not puny rogues who will take your purse and let you pass on, but strong men who will have blood as well as gold; they are in bands; they are in every wood between Lisbon and Oporto; they are round the tables in the wine-houses; among the rocks by the wayside; in the stable where you tie up your mule ; and under the roof where you lie down to sleep; they have night-signals and day-signals; and wo to' him against whom they have Sworn vengeance ! But-em casa de ladra5 na5 fettles en corda," (5) he added, looking round him rather anxiously, "and the wind is abed keeper of secrets." "For mercy's sake ! " said I, somewhat nervously, "tell us DO more ; I shall

(1) Broad4lapped hat. (2) Long lire to you. (3) An English lady: '

(4) A doss 'mouth catches go ties. (5)1n a thiefs hmse one should not talk of' a rope. tremble at the breeze among the branches, or gallop off to eseaee the clutches a a green lizard."

The Fettle& " Yet, eie eer Ie.:Eel:I :t.; you can: it

is the heed-ge tees ef th • ; •'s . • e• .1 e:r children live

there ; their booty is hidden ile : e • , e • -: ,• any inhabitant

-of Rerlinha; they have sharp knives a steep ie • • - • • .tveam !" " Alighty uncenifiAable all this," said 1, ‘• i :oellea., do you not fear to trust yourself among them ? " " I Lever fear," was the prowl reply, as he drew hint-elf um and his chest heaved, " but I am no fool ; I never take the wolf by the leg, nor the helm; by the throat; I shall not enter Redinha; I know there is one there who bears The no goodwill ; and I have no wish," he added, with asignificant gesture, as he ran his hand up and down the pendant buttons of his waistcoat, " to furnish his Sunday vest, and to feed the fish under the arch yonder."

I know not why, but I misdoubted the Senhor more after this elaborate ex - _pose of the principles of the population of Redinha, than I had even done be- fore • I believe I thought fur an instant that he could be no less than the Captain of die band himself; and, under this impression, I asked with some curiosity 'what road he intended to take in order to reach Condeixa? He answered, with- out hesitation, that he was about to turn up a path which wound along the side - of the mountain, and to cook his pigeons at the house of a friend not far die. tent ; and finally. to ford the river a little above his friend's house. He con- cluded by inquiring at what hour we should resume our march? We declared ourselves unable to say. " It signifies not," was his cool reply, " I shall watch fiir you; and will join you again on the other side of Redinha." In a few minutes, we reached something which looked as though it had been intended for a road, and subsequently abandoned : this was the track which the Senbor declared led to the abode of his friend ; and accordingly, after a profu- .sion of vows and compliments, commendation to the Virgin, and a few. fa- vourite saints, and another caution against the ladriul of Redinha, he once more .pressed down the sombrero over his curling black hair, struck his solitary silver spur into the flank of his mule, and disappeared at an easy canter round an elbow of the rock.

" Who can be be? " exclaimed I once more. "Is he a spy, the Marquis of Chaves, or the Captain of the robbers?" " I cannot say ; ' gravely replied my companion: " but this I do know, I tun very glad we have parted company." " But he is to join us again you know." " No, no ; no fear of that, if we keep with the regiment ; and perhaps, all things considered, we had better do so.'

And with this sage determination we rode into the

The few patches of vineyard, Indian corn, and melon, in its immediate neigh- bourhood, were securely and somewhat fantastically inclosed by hedges of the prickly pear and aloe ; many of the latter in bloom and remit:dime one, with their long straight, leafless stems, of the nursery tale of Jack and the Bean- stalk. The inclosures themselves betrayed even more than the usual negligence always sufficiently perceptible in Portuguese agriculture ; they looted as though they had been hastily and carelessly planted in the casual intervals of a restless and more exciting occupation : or periums we imagined so front the nature of the information which had just been voluntered to us. The heavenly climate, nevertheless, spread beauty and luxuriance over these comparatively neglected gardens, end they lay green and rank under the warm sun which was glancing - -down upon them.

If Redinha had looked cleanly and cheerful in the distance, we were soon un- deceived on the subject when we dress- nearer. Every door was closed ; every window had its blind jeeheisly ft.-toiled on the inside, whence those who were within could see every paeser-by instinct:1y, themselves unseen. Some poultry, a pig or two, and a fleck of tusk ies, as will as the mountain air could make -them, fled in every direction as we entered the street which forieed the village; and which was lung, wide, and closely built in on both sides, terminating at the budge before-named; their shrill cries and disturbed grunts forming our only and very unineludious welcome.

My. companion, however, ire I have before remarked, was an 14(1 campaigner; and his practised eye soon iletected the bush swinging fi om the. door of the vil- lage estraiagern. (7.) Thither we accordingly bent our steps ; and as we sprang from the saddle, a girl passed the threshold, and took the bridles of the horses. I spoke a few words to her in a kind and conciliatory tone ; partly from policy .and partly because 1 had made a practice, from my first landing in the country, of endeavouring rather to win than to purchase the good offices and kindly. °pi- llions of the peasantry. She made no reply, but by a mournful wave of the heath; and, struck by so unusual a: circumstance—for the Por tuguese peasants .• are naturally gay and garrulous—I stood for a moment to look at her before I fol- lowed my friend into the house. She had passed her first youth ; the bloomi- nese, if Imay be allowed so to term it, of that early girlhood which is so bright, so beautiful, and so transitory; yet she did not appear to have seen more than 'twenty summers. She was 'decidedly not handsome; and yet there was a pride, . almost a sternness, seated on her high forehead, which gave an air of nobility that did not seem to belong of right to the mountain-maiden, the daughter, or • it might even be the domestic of a village wine-house. Her eyes' like those of the generality of her country-women, were of the deepest black ; but there was .a cold sadness in them as she stood before •me, silently holding the bridles of the . leorses, which struck me instantly. She wore a boddice of scarlet cloth, and a ,petticoat of dark blue, with a scarlet hem; at her side hung a rosary of carved cork, terminating in a small crucifix of ivory, with a Christ of fine gold ; and .adorned with numerous little plates of silver suspended front slight chains of the -same material, on which were rudely stamped misshapen figures of saints, and ,extravagant representations of the Virgin under many of her multitudinous de- signations. Iler hair was swept back smoothly from her forehead, and gathered together at the crown of her head in a heavy knot, where she had decorated it with a crimson carnation. I saw all this at a glance, and I could not help feel- ing, as 1 entered the houses and bent my head to pass the portal, that the silent And sad-looking Senhora without was in some way strangely out of her place.

The house yields excellent wine, but nothing eatable, save some • execrable bread; and the girl, who is dumb, is despatched by the Ihostess to gather grapes.

I followed the active and willing Marie 'through the low door which opened into their garden (if garden that could be called which was in fact an enclosed .piece of neglected and rocky.ground), overstrown with large fragments of stone, many of them blackened by smoke, and all of them defaced by violence. I needed • no interpreter here; they were the remains of some former building—a remnant of the war ; the hand of the spoiler had been there ! But a more gentle clasp was on them now for a iich vine, heavy with its purple grapes, had wreathed itself about them in every direction; the clinging tendrils were .wound, like Lire-fingers, round every fragment; the large leaves heaved with the slight _breeze, and fell back, shading with their wild luxuriance some traces of the ruin ,upon which they rested ; while the glorious fruit lay shining like amethysts in the sunshine, tempting its fiery beanie; or glanced from some shady-hollow,

• where it was visited only by the early sun-rays of the morning, or he sweet south wind ; and ripened without losing its fresh and lovely bloom. It was from :these shadowed -nooks that -Marie selected her fruit; and she smiled when she saw me watching her _motions, as she gracefully sprang from one mass of stone elo4haotheroand. peeped into the hollows, Where She _knew that it would be

(6) Thieves. (7) Wine-house. coolest and fresheet. When sheleril filled the little basket that she held, she ap- proached me and extended her hand ; as I toek it, she drew time forward, amid stopping befere a fine bunch of grapes, which svere glowing with the heat of the

slit, gently pressed my hand down upon them : I recoiled from the seereb- ing confect ; she smiled, and pointing to the run aed to the gripes, she shock her head, as if to intimate that they were lieeted iuitl impleasant then she gelded my touch to tlioee in her basket ; it wee like leming tipoe marble. Sly saw that I understeml her, mid led the way back into the lit tie. There wae graceful sadness about every look and gesture of poor Marie which deeply in- terossed me ; and I endeavoured to lead the old woman on to tell me something of her story, but she evidently shrank from the task, and I did not press it. Having satisfied my own appetite, 1 thought of my horse, and sallied forth with a bunch of grapes in my hand, followed in my turn by the dumb .girl. I had (suite forgotten all about the robbers, their steep bridge, and thew sharp knives. I thought I could even have slept soundly in their lair, if Marie. had watched beside me. She appeared perfectly to comprehend my purpose and led roe to a fine cork-tree under whose deep shade stood the horses. My little mare turned her head and neighed out joyously when she saw me e and in an- other instant she was busily crushing the grapes against the bit, and swallowing the cool sweet juice with perfect complacency. By this time the regiment was entering the long street of the village. I gaily touched the arm of my compa- nion, and drew her attention to the soldiers. The effect of the sight was fright- ful : uttering one of those unearthly, thrilling cries, to which the dumb alone can give utterance, she fled wildly into the house ; and as instantly twenty fierce faces were protruded from as many lattices, and twice twenty black, flashing eyes were tarnish in the direction of the cry. The sound of the horses hoofs on the paved street appeared, however, to explain the mystery of Marie's agony; for, as if by magic, every head disappeared at once, and I stood alone under the cork-tree, without sight or sound of any human being, save the approachine soldiers.

After a halt of about an hour, the regiment resumes its march.

We might, perhaps, have proceeded about two miles, when, under the shadow of a tuft of flowering myrtles by the road-side, I iiietinguished the handsome olive-coloured countenance and manly form of our new friend, the Portuguese traveller. lie was lying comnirtably at his ease in the cool shade, with his cigars in his mouth, and his sombrero beside him; while his mule was quietly regal. ing himself with the young aunt tender branches of the myrtle, and bringing down upon the head of his master, as he gnawed away bough after bough, showers of the white and flagrant blossoms. It was really a sketch for a painter.

When the Sailor saw us, be arose leisurely, tightened his girths, mounted his mule, and, with a courteous viva and a significant look, joined our party. My friend — gave me a rueful glance ; I believe he wished himself at home in Auld Reekie ; but he was very civil to the Senhor; and before long we were au busied in conversation; hue retold his tale of the Redinha ladrones, accom- panying the narrative with a thousand fantastic grimaces and contortions; and, when he had exhausted his terms of opprobrium, which, to do him juetice, were neither few nor faint, I spoke of the dumb girl. His fine brow became mud- deely clouded by a look of sincere and unfeigned sadness. " Ha! ,rprittadinia," (8) he sail, in a low tone, " You have seen Marie de los Doles., (9.)

" I should like much to bear her story," said I, as I reined up my horse be- side him, "I do not know when I have felt so much interest in a stranger."

" Quittadinia!" he repeated mournfully, as he threw from hint the reinnant of his cigar. " She was once the prettiest girl in Redinha—the :::enhora listens?"

" Attentively," said I, with perfect sincerity.

"'rite father of Marie," he commenced, " was Jniz de Foro, (10) of the vil lage ; he married the only deughter of a vine-grower in the neighbourhood ; they were rich people, minim Senhora; they visited Lisbon. once a year, aud III) man knew better, it was thought, than Seidler ti mud front what point the wind blew. But times changed; that guerra (1 1 ) which for a time male Portugal a wilderness, inade a bloody pause at Redinha. Manuel had a son ; he was among the Patriots; and some accursed spy had whispered this in the ear of the French officers. The intelligence was not lost on them. When they retreated before the victorious arms of the valarosos Ingleses" (12)—here he took off his sombrero, and bowed courteously to the party—" their first point was the house of the ill-fated Juiz. They had not even the mercy to drag him over his own threshold ; they poured into his house by scores; the cowardly assassins —may the curse of Saint Jose rest on them !--they asked him for his son ; the heave rapaz (13) was in the mountains fighting; for his country, and he-was not forthconung—they knew it, the bloody.minded bandits! they knew it—they never expected to find him there ! The Donna Carlotta was then young and handsome, and Marie dos Delos an infant scarce four years old. They butchered the old man first—on his own hearth. The Donna del Caza, (14) with the true instinct of amother, caught up her last-born, and, as it proved, her only child, and concealed her in a narrow closet, when she first heard the tumult without. The hiding-place was ri. secure one, but the innocent child could see and hear all that passed in the aposento (15) of her father's house. Her mother left her there with a hurried blessing and a breaking heart ; and hastened back to her husband, As she passed the threshold, she saw Manuel in the grasp of two ruffians; I ant tedious with my story," he. added, as he wiped away the mois- ture from his forehead, "you muse pardon me. Nio set tyre the fazer ! (16.) When I think of that day, my heart beats so fast that my tongue struggles to keep pace with it." " No apologies are necessary, Senhor," said my father encouragingly, "your -feelings do you honour."

" Agratleco meu, Senhor," (17) said the animated stranger ; "hut there are moments when the wrongs of my fellow-countrymen prove too much for 'my • self-possession ;—shall I go on?' . "If you can do so with comfort to yourself, we shall be .indebted to you," replied my father.

" Corn todo o nzertcoragaii. (18.) The Donna sprang towards the 'father Of her children, and clasped her arias about hint; but she was too late—the digger was in his heart: and they taunted him, too, that dying man, With the loyalty of his son, and the virtue of his wife ! He smiled et thu first taunt, even amid his.agony ; but, Senhores, he shuddered at the second, when he saw his young wife, the beauty of the province, rush towards him, exclaiming, as she came, Quent•con ferro maul, a ferro moire! '(19.) What cared they for the warn- ing voice ? Their eves were on her young beauty, and well was it for Manuel that be died ere he had seen that fair and gentle creature on her knees befere Nossa Senhora praying for death to release her from- her shame ; or, ere he be- held her boldly secure to herself that blessed escape from further evil which her ruthless enemies haddenied." The hitherto volatile Senhor paused ; a mois- ture laud risen to his dark eye ; and such had been his animated manner of tel- ling the story, that not one of the party felt dispssed ttehreak-the silence.' After

(8) Poor thing. (9) This name, strangely its it may sound to Engliab ears, is by no means uncom- mon in Portugal though generallyigicen fromsome patticslar and painful eirzurnstaniew connected with the !sixth of the child or theposition of the parents

-( l3), (14) La4.- of the house, • 08) Sitting-room:

(l9) Brave English. (10) 'Mayor 01) Accursed war.

(19) He who kills lay the sword, diealti,tha maid: (l.8).:With ell taybeart. (16)•1 cannot help it. 47) 1 thank.you.