Having
procured a black Padre for a guide, and a Spaniard who
had served in the Peninsular war as an interpreter, we visited
a collection of buildings, of which an ancient church
formed the principal part. It is here the governors and
captain-generals of the islands have been buried. Some of
the tombstones recorded dates of the sixteenth century. [2]
The heraldic ornaments were the only things in this retired
place that reminded us of Europe. The church or chapel
formed one side of a quadrangle, in the middle of which a
large clump of bananas were growing. On another side
was a hospital, containing about a dozen miserable-looking
inmates.
We returned to the Venda to eat our dinners. A considerable
number of men, women, and children, all as black as
jet, collected to watch us. Our companions were extremely
merry; and everything we said or did was followed by their
hearty laughter. Before leaving the town we visited the
cathedral. It does not appear so rich as the smaller church,
but boasts of a little organ, which sent forth singularly
inharmonious cries. We presented the black priest with a few
shillings, and the Spaniard, patting him on the head, said,
with much candour, he thought his colour made no great
difference. We then returned, as fast as the ponies would
go, to Porto Praya.
