December 19th: We left Oporto; and on this day's journey of four leagues we overtook a Spanish sailor—a man of colour, his name Raphael. He had been in the English Service, and was useful to us as an interpreter. We slept at a dirty posada—where we should have been murdered, if our friend the black had not awakened us and pressed our immediate departure, in consequence of our interfering with the landlord who had been beating his wife.

We proceeded 7 leagues over a barren country. The muleteer and his son, who accompanied us, smoked their pipes, sung ‘Viva Rey Fernando,’ and crossed themselves before several monuments of travellers who had died or been killed in these deserts. About halfway to Coimbra we met about 40 carts, drawn by oxen, and escorted by part of the 38th Regiment, with provisions for Salamanca.

We arrived at Coimbra about 2 o'clock on the 21st December. The afternoon we spent in resting at the posada, being a good deal fatigued after the day's journey, and but little inclined to explore the town: however, on the following day the highest point above the City was our object, to obtain a prospect of the whole. Coimbra stands on very uneven ground, and nearly surrounded by the river Mondego; it looks better at a distance than when you are in its streets. The museum of the College, and the Convent of Santa Cruz, are well worth visiting.