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pending/1130: Do you type at all Friend? (pending)
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bug-gnats |
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Subject: |
pending/1130: Do you type at all Friend? (pending) |
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Date: |
Sat, 10 Jan 2009 23:15:45 -0600 (CST) |
>Number: 1130
>Category: pending
>Synopsis: Do you type at all Friend?
>Confidential: no
>Severity: serious
>Priority: medium
>Responsible: unassigned
>State: open
>Class: sw-bug
>Submitter-Id: net
>Arrival-Date: Sat Jan 10 23:15:45 -0600 2009
>Originator: "DebbieCracker" <address@hidden>
>Release:
>Description:
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HTML Message - Do you type at all Friend?
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<p> Hey there Friend,<br />
<br />
Did you really think I would miss that one? <br><br>
When a work at home job like this comes along, you can bet
your "you know what" I would be the one to find it ;-)
</p>
<p>And now <a
href="http://www.scupgist.com/pages/runningclick.asp?handle=10858";>so can you
Friend!</a>
</p>
<p>Thanks Friend <br />
<br />
Debbie</p>
<br />
<br /><p>P.S.... It's time: <a
href="http://www.scupgist.com/pages/runningclick.asp?handle=10858";> let's all
get better</a></p>
<p>----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------<br><br>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a
href="http://www.scupgist.com/pages/runningout.asp?handle=10858";>unsubscribe</a><br><br>
CMM-Inc.<br>
P.O.box-2868<br>
Orlando,FL-32802
<br />
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<a
href="http://www.scupgist.com/pages/runningout2.asp?uweb=37678658";><img
src="http://www.scupgist.com/imgs/targaun.jpg"; border="0"></a><br>
<or dried codfish, cooked with garlic or onions, is deservedly a
favourite: it contains more nourishment than beef. There is superior
originality amongst the doces sweetmeats for which Madeira was once
worldfamous; and in the queques cakes, such as lagrimascakes, cocoanutcakes,
and rabanadas, the Moorish rabanat, slabs of wheat bread soaked in milk, fried
in olive oil, and spread with honey. The drink is water, or, at best, aguapé,
the last straining of the grape. Many peasants, who use no stimulant during the
day, will drink on first rising a dram para espantar o Diabo to frighten the
Devil, as do the Congoese paramatar o bicho to kill the worm.
Here cleanliness is not next to godliness. People bathe only in hot
weatherthe rule of man and the lower mammalia. A quick and intelligent race
they are, like the Spaniards and Bedawi Arabs, a contradiction in religious
matters: the Madeiran believes in little or nothing, yet he hates a Calvinista
like the very fiend. They have lost, as the census shows, something of their
extreme ignorance, and have abated their worst superstitions since the
expulsion of the Jesuits by Pombal , and the reforms of , , and . In the latter
year Dom Pedro suppressed monkeries and nunneries by disallowing masses, and by
pensioning the holy tenantry with dols. per mensem, afterwards, reduced to
dols. In the bishop, Dom Patricio Xavier de Moura, did his best to abolish the
pretty refocaria the hearthlighter, who, as Griraldus hath it, extinguished
more virtue than she lit fires; and now the rectory is seldom gladdened by the
presence of noisy little nephews and nieces. The popular morals, using t
h
e word in its limited sense, were peculiar. The number of espostos que nao se
sabe quem, sao seus pais fatherless foundlings outnumbered those born de
legitimo matrimonio; and few of the gudewives prided themselves upon absolute
fidelity. This flaw, which in England would poison all domestic affection, was
not looked upon in a serious light by the islandry. The priesthood used to
lament the degeneracy of the age and sigh for the fine times of foros e fogos,
the rights and fires of an autodafé. The shepherds have now learned to move
with the times and to secure the respect of their sheep. Imagine being directed
to Paradise by a reverend man who gravely asks you where and what Hanover is.
Another important change is being brought about by the emigrant. During the
last few years the old rule has been relaxed, and whole families have wandered
abroad in search of fortune. Few Madeirans in these days ship for the Brazil,
once the land of their predilection. They prefer Cape Town, Honolulu, the
Antilles, and especially Demerara; and now the Demerarista holds the position
of the Brasileiro in Portugal and the Indio or Indiano of the Canaries: in time
he will buy up half the island.
In we hired rowing and sailing boats to visit the southern coast east and west
of Funchal. For the last twelvemonth Mr. Blandys steamtug Falcao has carried
travellers to and fro: it is a great convenience to the lazy sightseer, who
cares only to view the outside of things, and here the outsides are the only
things worth viewing.
We will begin with the western trip to Paül do Mar, affording a grand prospect
of basaltic pillars and geological dykes, and of the three featuresrocky,
sylvan, and floral. Steaming by the mouth of the wady or ravine Sao Joao, whose
decayed toy forts, S. Lazaro and the palacebattery, are still cumbered with
rusty cannon, we pass under the cliff upon whose brow stand some of the best
buildings. These are the Princess Dona Maria Amelias Hospicio, or Consumptive
Hospital, built on Mr. Lambs plans and now under management of the French
soeurs, whose gull wings are conspicuous at Funchal; the Asylo, or Poorhouse,
opened in for the tempering of mendicancy; and facing it, in unpleasant
proximity, the Portuguese cemetery, decorated as to its entrance with sundry
skulls and crossbones, and showing its tall cypresses to the bay. Here comes
the Quinta Comtesse Lambert, once occupied by Queen Adelaide. The owner doubled
the rent; consequently Las Angustías the Agonies, as it was called
from an old chapel, has been unrented for the last two years. A small
pleasaunce overhanging a perpendicular cliff, and commanding a glorious view,
shows the Quinta da Vigia, lately bought by Mr. Hollway for ,l., and let at l.
to ,l, a year. Nothing more charming than its grounds, which attracted H.I.M.
of Austria, and now the charming Countess Tyszkiewicz. Landward it faces the
Rua da Imperatriz, which leads to the Loo Fields.
The study of basaltic pillars at once begins: Loo Fort is partly built upon
them. Beyond Vigia cliff we pass in succession three jagged islandrocks, called
gurgulhos, or blackbeetles curculio, which, like the opposite foreshore,
admirably show the formation. As a rule the columns are quadrangular; I saw but
few pentagons and hexagons. We cast a look at a spouter of circular shape, the
Forja, and the Forno, a funnelformed blowingrock. The cliff is pierced with a
multitude of caves, large and small, and their regular arches look as if the
ejected matter, as happens with lava, had cooled and solidified above, while
still flowing out in a fiery torrent below. Mostly, however, they are the work
of wind and water.
Then comes the old Gurgulho Forta dwarf square, partly thatched and converted
into a private dwelling. It lies below Signal Hill, with its dwarf ruined
tower, a lumpy parasitic crater whose western slopes have been ruined by
disforesting. Between the two runs the New Road, which owes its being to the
grapefamine of . It is the Rotten Row of Funchal, where horses tread the earth
instead of skating and sliding over the greased pebbles; and where fair amazons
charge upon you like Indian irregular cavalry. Five miles long, it is the only
level line of any extent in Madeira, and it wants but one thingprolongation.
The lion in the path, however, is Cape Girâo, which would cost a treasure to
tunnel or to cut into a corniche.
The next feature is the Ponta da Cruz, a fantastic slice of detached basalt.
Here, at the southernmost point of the island, the Descobridores planted a
cross, and every boatman doffs his cap to its little iron descendant. Beyond it
comes the Praia Formosa, a long line of shingle washed down by a deep ravine.
All these brooks have the same origin, and their extent increases the
importance of the wady. In the French pirates under De Montluc, miscalled
heretics hereges Ugnotas landed here, as, indeed, every enemy should. The
colour of Fair Reach is ashen grey, scolloped with cinderblack where the creamy
foam breaks: for beauty it wants only golden sands, and for use a few bathing
machines.
The next notable feature is the Ribeira dos Soccorridos River of the Rescued,
where two of the Zargos lads were with difficulty saved from the violent stream
then flowing. It is now provided with a long bridgecauseway of three arches,
approached by a chapel, Nossa Senhora das Victorias, whose tiled and pillared
porch reminds one of Istria. This bed is the drain of the Grand Curral, called
by the people Das Freiras, because the holy women here took refuge from the
plundering French Lutherans. The favourite picnicground is reached in three
hours from Funchal by two roads, both winding amongst the papshaped hillocks
which denote parasitic cones, and both abutting upon the ravineside, east and
west. The latter, skirting the Pico dos Bodes of hegoats, a tall cone seen from
near Funchal, and sentinelling the great gap, is the joyforever of
midshipmites. To the horror of the burriqueiro, or syce, they gallop hired
screws, highheeled as their grandams, over paths at which an English
stag would look twice; and for a dollar they secure as much chance of a
broken limb, if not of going to pot with a young lady Captain Basil Halls
phrase, as reasonable beings can expect.>
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