One reason, perhaps, why art and industry have done so little for Madeira is, nature’s having done so much.  The soil is very rich, and there is such a difference of climate between the plains and the hills, that there is scarcely a single object of luxury that grows either in Europe or the Indies, that might not be produced here.  When we went to visit Dr Heberden, who lived upon a considerable ascent, about two miles from town, we left the thermometer at 74; and when we arrived at his house, we found it at 66.  The hills produce, almost spontaneously, walnuts, chesnuts, and apples in great abundance; and in the town there are many plants which are the natives both of the East and West Indies, particularly the banana, the guava, the pineapple or anana, and the mango, which flourish almost without culture.  The corn of this country is of a most excellent quality, large-grained and very fine, and the island would produce it in great plenty, yet most of what is consumed by the inhabitants is imported.  The mutton, pork, and beef are also very good; the beef in particular, which we took on board here, was universally allowed to be scarcely inferior to our own; the lean part was very like it, both in colour and grain, though the beasts are much smaller, but the fat is as white as the fat of mutton.  The town of Frunchiale derives its name from Funcho, the Portuguese name for fennel, which grows in great plenty upon the neighbouring rocks; by the observation of Dr Heberden, it lies in the latitude of 32 deg. 35’ 33” N. and longitude 16 deg. 49’ W. It is situated in the bottom of a bay, and though larger than the extent of the island seems to deserve, is very ill built; the houses of the principal inhabitants are large, those of the common people are small, the streets are narrow, and worse paved than any I ever saw.  The churches are loaded with ornaments, among which are many pictures, and images of favourite saints, but the pictures are in general wretchedly painted, and the saints are dressed in laced clothes.  Some of the convents are in a better taste, especially that of the Franciscans, which is plain, simple and neat in the highest degree.  The infirmary in particular drew our attention as a model which might be adopted in other countries with great advantage.  It consists of a long room, on one side of which are the windows, and an altar for the convenience of administering the sacrament to the sick:  The other side is divided into wards, each of which is just big enough to contain a bed, and neatly lined with gally-tiles; behind these wards, and parallel to the room in which they stand, there runs a long gallery, with which each ward communicates by a door, so that the sick may be separately supplied with whatever they want without disturbing their neighbours.  In this convent there is also a singular curiosity of another kind; a small chapel, the whole lining of which, both sides and ceiling, is composed of human sculls and thigh-bones; the thigh-bones are laid across each