busy square tempt one to linger. The eye again notes the regularity of the Pombaline buildings, glances to the southern end of the Rocio, and is arrested by the remarkable sight of the broken arches and shell of the once-beautiful church of the Carmo rising high above the houses. To the left in abrupt contrast to the stately ruins appears what, at first sight, looks like a square steel scaffolding mounting tower-like into the void.
It is one of the Ascensores, or giant lifts, another means by which the difficulties of high and low levels have been conquered in this city of many hills. This particular ascensore is entered from the Rua Santa Justa, just off the Rua do Ouro. From the lift you step out on an iron bridge, which conducts to the Largo do Carmo. It spans the gay Chiado, the Regent Street of Lisbon, and from a terrifying height affords an enchanting prospect over a great part of the city, looking across to the eastern heights, towards the river, and inland. The roofs of houses six and four stories high spread out below the eye; we can almost peer into the nearest dormer windows. An old-world, picturesque character these Lisbon roofs possess. They look as if they had been made with old oak tiles that time had first polished, then dimmed with grey, and touched up from a palette of russet browns and olive greens. The general effect imparts a more ancient aspect to the buildings than is warranted by the date of the earthquake.
The Rocio lies almost at our feet. The statue of D. Pedro stands out from this height as the distinguishing feature. The figure is of bronze standing on a half globe at the summit of a high, fluted column of marble. Justice, Temperance, Valour and Prudence, cardinal virtues most appropriate to the rule of the Liberating King, are symbolized in massive figures of feminine type which decorate the four corners of the pedestal.
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