"What queer narrow streets!" said Tom, as he surveyed critically Funchal, the capital of Madeira. "And what a lingo—Portuguese—only it sounds even more like gibberish than it did in Lisbon. And what a lot of peddlers! They swarm like gnats."
Mr. Jollytarre was busy buying an inlaid box of one of the peddlers referred to, and did not answer.
CARRIAGE DRAWN BY OXEN.
Meanwhile Tom's attention was attracted by a very odd carriage. This vehicle was drawn by oxen, and like a sleigh was set on runners, which offered less resistance than wheels would have done to the smooth round little stones of the pavement. These cobble-stones are very like the stones of the beach. The body of the carriage reminded Tom of a Sedan-chair; it seated comfortably two persons facing each other, had a top, and was draped on the sides by curtains drawn apart. Tom began to laugh, so much was he entertained by this strange equipage, whereat the lieutenant turned to see what had caught his eye.
"We might take a drive," said he, meditatively. "I want to take you to the Church of Nossa Senhora do Monte, on the top of that hill over there. What do you say, Tom?"
"I'd sooner walk," said our young friend. "I should think it would be slow work riding in an ox-cart, for that's all that amounts to, unless you choose to call it a sleigh."
HAMMOCK-RIDING IN MADEIRA.
At this moment two men came slowly down the street bearing between them a pole on which was slung a curtained hammock, wherein reclined a pale sweet-faced lady.