I pursued my route to Estremoz, passing by Monte Moro Novo, which
is a tall dusky hill, surmounted by an ancient edifice, probably
Moorish. The country was dreary and deserted, but offering here
and there a valley studded with cork trees and azinheiras. After
midday the wind, which during the night and morning had much
abated, again blew with such violence as nearly to deprive me of my
senses, though it was still in our rear.

I was heartily glad when, on ascending a rising ground, at about
four o'clock, I saw Estremoz on its hill at something less than a
league's distance. Here the view became wildly interesting; the
sun was sinking in the midst of red and stormy clouds, and its rays
were reflected on the dun walls of the lofty town to which we were
wending. Nor far distant to the south-west rose Serra Dorso, which
I had seen from Evora, and which is the most beautiful mountain in
the Alemtejo. My idiot guide turned his uncouth visage towards it,
and becoming suddenly inspired, opened his mouth for the first time
during the day, I might almost say since we had left Aldea Gallega,
and began to tell me what rare hunting was to be obtained in that
mountain. He likewise described with great minuteness a wonderful
dog, which was kept in the neighbourhood for the purpose of
catching the wolves and wild boars, and for which the proprietor
had refused twenty moidores.

At length we reached Estremoz, and took up our quarters at the
principal inn, which looks upon a large plain or market-place
occupying the centre of the town, and which is so extensive that I
should think ten thousand soldiers at least might perform their
evolutions there with case.