about two feet below the horse's belly. I inquired of the old man
what was the reason of this warlike array. He answered, that the
roads were very bad (meaning that they abounded with robbers), and
that they went armed in this manner for their defence; they soon
turned off to the right towards Palmella.

We reached a sandy plain studded with stunted pine; the road was
little more than a footpath, and as we proceeded, the trees
thickened and became a wood, which extended for two leagues, with
clear spaces at intervals, in which herds of cattle and sheep were
feeding; the bells attached to their necks were ringing lowly and
monotonously. The sun was just beginning to show itself; but the
morning was misty and dreary, which, together with the aspect of
desolation which the country exhibited, had an unfavourable effect
on my spirits. I got down and walked, entering into conversation
with the old man. He seemed to have but one theme, "the robbers,"
and the atrocities they were in the habit of practising in the very
spots we were passing. The tales he told were truly horrible, and
to avoid them I mounted again, and rode on considerably in front.

In about an hour and a half we emerged from the forest, and entered
upon a savage, wild, broken ground, covered with mato, or
brushwood. The mules stopped to drink at a shallow pool, and on
looking to the right I saw a ruined wall. This, the guide informed
me, was the remains of Vendas Velhas, or the Old Inn, formerly the
haunt of the celebrated robber Sabocha. This Sabocha, it seems,
had, some sixteen years ago, a band of about forty ruffians at his
command, who infested these wilds, and supported themselves by
plunder. For a considerable time Sabocha pursued his atrocious
trade unsuspected, and many an unfortunate traveller was murdered