One of the quaintest parts of Oporto, where there are still many ancient houses, is the Rua Cima do Muro. But in all the old quarters of the city there are interesting streets and corners. The markets should be visited by travellers interested in the customs of the people. They are bright and animated on market days.
The Picture Gallery will disappoint the student who expects to see a representative collection of Portuguese art. In the Largo de Viriato is the Museum, endowed by Allen, an Englishman, and given to the city. The pictures preserved here are not of much interest, except the few works ascribed to Rubens and Van Dyck. There is a collection of natural history specimens in the museum.
The public library has a large collection of volumes, numbering many thousands, and is an excellent institution. It was founded by Pedro IV. and stands on the site of a convent near the Garden of São Lázaro.
For art-work in gold, visit the Rua das Flores, the street of goldsmiths. The windows contain highly interesting gold ornaments of infinite variety of design, in filigree, and enamelled. Huge earrings, worn by the women of the vineyards, are displayed here in lavish array.
A pleasant excursion may be made to São João da Foz, a favourite Sunday and holiday resort of the Oporto people in summer time. The road runs by the Douro, and upon approaching the mouth of the river, the dangerous bar will be seen. The seaside village, with the difficult name, has fine sands and an interesting coast stretching northwards. The Atlantic thunders along this shore in stormy weather, but the bathing is safe.
At Mattosinhos, to the north of Foz, there is a wonderful crucifix, said to have been picked up from the sea after floating from the Holy Land. It is an object of great veneration among the peasantry and working-class.
Another excursion may be made to Villa de Feira, where there is an ancient castle.
A study in grey and green is the impression left upon my mind by a first view of the old town of Poitiers. There is a sternness in the aspect of the place as you approach it by rail through the pastures of Vienne. But peace now rests upon Poitiers; the town dreams in this quiet French landscape, and the chronicles of arms are old and faded memories.