“It is one of the kind we see in Funchal, and elsewhere in the island,” replied the doctor. “Wheels are not practicable among these hills; and I am not sure that this thing pulls any harder than the car with the revolving axle which we saw in Portugal.”
“It certainly does not make any more music,” added Murray, referring to the hideous screeching of the cart they had seen in Lisbon.
The sled was something like a “stone-drag” used in the New England States. It was a plank eight feet long and a foot and a half wide, hollowed in the middle so that a wine-cask will fit into it. It was four inches thick, and pointed off at the bow like a boat. Under it were two wooden runners. While the students were looking at it, and while the driver was still yelling with all his might at his diminutive cattle, a boy threw a sort of mop made of rope-yarns, which he had just dipped into a puddle of water, under the forward end of the sled. The runners passed over it, wetting the bottoms, thus making them run a little easier, and removing the danger of fire from friction.
“This is the Praca Constitucional, a very common name for a square in Spain and Portugal. It was formerly the ‘Praca da Rainha,’ or Queen Square; but the Constitution is more popular than the Queen.”
From the square the party passed into the market-place adjoining it. Provisions, vegetables, fruit, provender for horses, and wood were the articles on sale. It was just such a sight as they had seen in Lisbon, and the venders were yelling their wares vigorously when any one that looked like a buyer came in sight. One man had a pole on his shoulder, on which were hung by the legs a dozen pairs of chickens, all alive, and kicking to the extent of their ability. Another had pigeons; but he had considerately killed them before he suspended them on the pole. The one who drove a single pig had about the same luck with him as any other attempting this difficult feat.
“Drive him the other way!” shouted Scott to the Portuguese, pointing behind the driver.
“He don’t understand you,” interposed the doctor, translating the remark into Portuguese.
The man laughed as though he had heard the joke before; but he did not adopt the suggestion.
“What’s the use of that brush they have tied up in bundles?” asked Sheridan, as they paused before a vender of this sort of merchandise.
“The bakers and others use it to heat their ovens,” replied Dr. Winstock. “Wood is a very scarce article in Madeira, though the name of the island in Portuguese means ‘wood.’ There is little or no need of fuel here, except for cooking purposes. Those bundles of little sticks are not much better than the fagots. All the coal has to be brought from other countries; and that makes it very expensive. The wealthier people and the boarding-houses use it.”