Far different, however, is the scene when a really spirited bull comes in with a rush and charges wildly at the brightly attired performers, and makes them skip over the barrier, often leaving their cloaks behind them.  Sometimes the bull skips over too, and then there is a most amusing scene, as performers, attendants, and all vault back over the barrier into the ring itself.  When the espada finally performs his courageous feat under such conditions, he obtains such an ovation as his skill deserves.  Hats of all sorts and shapes are cast to him in the arena, which he has to pick up and throw or hand back to the admirers who testify their satisfaction in this curious manner.  Cigars, also, are thrown at the successful bull-fighter’s feet, and these he keeps.  The most famous espadas are all Spaniards, and they all wear the traditional dress of their calling.  If, on the one hand, there is not the thrill of the actual killing of the bull, on the other there are no miserable old horses to be ripped up, and no smell of blood.  Next to the actual bull-fights come the selections of the young bulls from the herds, when the members of the Tauromachian Societies exhibit their skill, and where many a gay young fellow gets much knocked about in exhibiting his agility or the want of it.

Other sports cannot be said to have any marked existence.  Dancing is a national amusement, and a few of the Anglicised Portuguese go in for cricket and lawn-tennis.  Cycling, though not unknown, is far from common, the roads being, as a rule, much too bad for comfortable or even for safe riding.

Local and provincial government leaves much to be desired in Portugal.  The keeping up of the roads is inconceivably bad.  A royal road (estrada real) is generally the worst of all, and, with such an example before them, it is not to be wondered at that local authorities neglect their duties in this matter.

“No capital city in Europe suffers so much as Lisbon from the want of good police regulations.”  This quotation from Napier might very well be written to-day, and extended to include all Portuguese towns.  Perhaps it is fair to say that it is not so much the regulations that are at fault as the incompetence and indifference of each local authority, which irresistibly suggest that corruption alone can account for such a mass of evil.  The administrative machine is elaborate, and ought to be more effective.  First, there is the district, ruled by the Civil Governor, an officer somewhat resembling a French prefect, with its corporate body known as the District Commission.  There are seventeen districts, which are subdivided into two hundred and sixty-two communes.  The head of a commune is the Administrator, and the corporation is known as the Municipal Chamber.  The last subdivision is that of the communes into parishes, of which there are three thousand seven hundred and thirty-five.  Each of these has as its head an officer called a regedor, and occupies the attention of a junta de parochia, or parish council.