LETTER XXIV. JUIZ DE FORA AT TANCOS.-SITUATION OF THAT TOWN.-TORRE DE ALMOUROL.~FIGO DO INFERNO.—RIver zezera.—TOWN OF PUNHETE. ROAD TO ABRANTES. Abrantes, 5th Nov. 1808. WE arrived here yesterday forenoon. At Tancos D*** and I were billeted on the Juiz de Fora. His family exhibited an example of the old Portuguese character, as it existed two centuries ago. We sat down to dinner with Signor B*** and two of his sons, who were both (as appeared from their bare crowns) in holy orders. His wife and daughters were in an adjoining room; but did not make their appearance. Signor B*** and his sons were hospitable, but rather grave and sententious, much inclined to reason and talk politics; which last I wished always to decline, as the discussion of the convention of Cintra is rather a thorny subject. Tancos lies upon a projecting point of land, at the foot of a steep mountain, close to the Tagus. It has suffered very considerably from the inundations of that river. Immediately opposite to Tancos, the river Culebra unites its stream, and, after heavy rains, rushes on the buildings of Tancos with so much impetuosity, as to have swept down many of the houses, now lying in ruins. From this cause, several of the inhabitants have removed lower down to Barquinha, and have carried the spirit of commerce thither along with them. About a quarter of a mile above the town, in the midst of the Tagus, stands a granite rock, crowned with the ruins of an old Moorish castle, named Torre de Almourol. These ruins are extremely picturesque, and form a beautiful object, as viewed from the hill above Tancos. I took the opportunity of a little fishing-boat, the poor owner of which. hailed me as I walked along the shore, and offered to land me on the island. I found it planted with poplars, and the ruins overgrown with Indian fig. When covered with its yellow flowers, this plant forms a beautiful hedge. It bears a small fruit, which is rather of a pleasant taste. The ladies at Lisbon used to offer this fruit to our young officers. If they lifted it hastily, their fingers were se verely wounded by an infinite number of minute invisible prickles, which it is hardly possible to extricate. The poor Englishman roars out, the young ladies laugh; but our countrymen damn the joke. This fruit is called by the Portuguese Figo do inferno, and it well deserves its name. Leaving Tancos, we proceeded over an extensive heath, till we reached the steep banks of the Zezera river, which are finely covered with olive plantations. Having crossed the river on a bridge of boats, we entered the town of Punhete. Punhete is favourably seated on a point of land, formed by the junction of the Zezera and Tagus. On the extreme point stand the ruins of an old castle, close under which is the port of Punhete, which, when we passed, was thronged with boats, taking in cargoes of quinces, apples. and chesnuts, for the market of Lisbon. From a projecting rock a little up the river I had a charming view of this spot. A large mountain, clothed with olives, formed an excellent back-ground to the landscape, of which I now inclose you a sketch. In the war of 1762, the Portuguese army, under the Count de Lippe, were encamped at Punhete, previously to the affair of Villa Velha. While here, an accident happened, which, had it become known to the Spanish General, he |