CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER VIII.SARAGOSSA AND BURGOS.Theship’s company of the American Prince departed from Barcelona at three o’clock in the afternoon, for Saragossa, or Zaragoza as the Spaniards spell it. At first the route was through a beautiful and highly cultivated country, and then into the mountains. By five o’clock it was too dark to see the landscape; and the students, tired after the labors of the day, were disposed to settle themselves into the easiest positions they could find, and many of them went to sleep.At Manresa the train stopped for supper, which was all ready for the students when they arrived, Mr. Lowington had employed four experienced couriers for the double tour across the peninsula. One was to precede each of the two parties to engage accommodations, and make terms with landlords, railroad agents, and others; and one was to attend each party to render such service as might be required of him. The journeys were all arranged beforehand, so that trains were to have extra cars, and meals were to be ready at stations and hotels.The train arrived at Saragossa just before four o’clock in the morning. The cars, or carriages as they are called in Europe, were precisely like those in use inEngland. Only six persons were put in each compartment; and the boys contrived various plans to obtain comfortable positions for sleeping. Some of them spread their overcoats on the floor for beds, using their bags for pillows; and others made couches on the seats. Most of them were able to sleep the greater part of the night. But theFonda del Universowas prepared for their reception, and they were glad enough to turn into the fifty beds ready for them.At nine o’clock all hands were piped to breakfast. The meal was served in courses, and was essentially French. Some of the waiters spoke French; but there was really no need of saying any thing, for each dish of the bill of fare was presented to every person at the table. After the meal, the students were assembled in the large reading-room,—the hotel had been recently built,—and Professor Mapps was called upon by the principal to say something about Saragossa, in order that the tourists might know a little of the history of the place they were visiting. The instructor took a convenient position, and began his remarks:—“The old monks used to write history something after the manner of the Knickerbocker’s History of New York; and they put it on record that Saragossa was founded by Tubal, nephew of Noah; but you will not believe this. The city probably originated with the Phoenicians, and was a place of great importance in the time of Julius Cæsar, who saw its military value as commanding the passage of the Ebro, and built a wall around it. It was captured by the Suevi in 452, and taken from them by the Goths fourteen years later. Inthe eighth century the Moors obtained possession of the city, and held it till the twelfth, when it was conquered by Alfonso of Aragon. It contains many relics of the Roman and Moorish works.“Saragossa has been the scene of several noted sieges, the most famous of which was that of 1808, when the French captured the place after the most desperate resistance on the part of the Aragonese. The brave defenders of the city had no regular military organization, and were ill-provided with arms and ammunition. The people chose for a leader a young man whose name was Palafox: he was as brave as a lion, but not versed in military science. The siege lasted sixty-two days, and the fighting was almost incessant. It was ‘war to the knife’ on the part of the Aragonese, and they rejected all overtures to surrender. Famine made fearful havoc among them, and every house was a hospital. Even the priests and the women joined in the strife. I dare say you have all heard of the ‘Maid of Saragossa,’ who is represented in pictures as a young woman assisting in working a gun in the battle. Her name was Augustina; and she was a very pretty girl of twenty-two. Her lover was a cannonneer, and she fought by his side. When he was mortally wounded, she worked the gun herself. You will find something about her in ‘Childe Harold.’“At length the French got into the town; but the conflict was not finished, for the people fought for twenty-one days more in the streets. Fifteen thousand were either dead or dying when the French entered the city. At last the authorities agreed to surrender, but only on the most honorable terms. It has been estimated,that, out of a population of one hundred and fifty thousand, fifty-four thousand perished in battle or by famine and pestilence.”After these brief remarks, the party separated, and divided up into small squads to see the city as they pleased. As usual, Captain Sheridan and Murray joined themselves to Dr. Winstock, who was as much at home in Saragossa as he was in Paris.“You will find that this city is thoroughly Spanish; and doubtless you will see some of the native costumes,” said the doctor, as they left the hotel.“But this hotel is as much French as though it were in France,” added Murray, who desired when in Spain to do as the Spaniards did, so as to learn what they do.“That is very true; but we shall come to the true Spanish hotel in due time, and I have no doubt you will get enough of it in a very short time,” laughed Dr. Winstock. “There are three classes of hotels in Spain, though at the present time they are all about the same thing. Afondais a regular hotel; aposadais the tavern of the smaller country towns; and aventais a still lower grade of inn. A drinking-shop, which we sometimes call a ‘saloon’ in the United States, is aventorroor aventorillo; and atabernais a place where smoking and wine-drinking are the business of their frequenters. Aparadoris a hotel where the diligences stop for meals, and may also be afonda.”“Afondais a hotel,” said Sheridan; “and we may not be able to remember any more than that.”“When you see the names I have given you on the signs, you will understand what they mean. But ourbusiness now is to see this city. Like Barcelona, it has one principal wide street extending through the middle of it: all the other avenues are nothing more than lanes, very narrow and very dirty. It is on the Ebro, and has a population of some eighty thousand people.”“How happens it that this place is not colder? It is in about the same latitude as New York City; and now, in the month of December, it is comfortably warm,” said Sheridan.“These valleys have a mild climate; and the vine and olive are their principal productions. It is not so on the high table-land in the centre of Spain. At Madrid, for instance, the weather will be found to be quite cold at this time. The weather is so bitter there sometimes that the sentinels on guard have to be changed every quarter of an hour, as they are in danger of being frozen to death.”The party walked first to the great square, in the centre of which is a public fountain. They paused to look at the people. Most of the men wore some kind of a mantle or cloak. This garment was sometimes the Spanish circular cloak, worn with a style and grace that the Spaniard alone can attain. That of the poorer class was often nothing but a striped blanket, which, however, they slung about them with no little of the air of those who wore better garments. They were generally tall, muscular, but rather bony fellows, with an expression as solemn as though they were doing duty at a funeral. Some of them wore the broad-brimmedsombrero; some had handkerchiefs wound around their heads, like turbans; and others sported the ordinary hat or cap.The party could not help laughing when they saw, for the first time, a priest wearing a hat which extended fore and aft at least three feet, with the sides rolled up close to the body. Everybody was dignified, and moved about at a funeral pace.At the fountain women and girls were filling the jars of odd shape with water, and bearing them away poised on one of their hips or on the head. Several donkeys were standing near, upon which their owners were loading the sacks of water they had filled.“Bags of water!” exclaimed Murray.“They do not call them bags, but skins,” said the doctor. “You can see the legs and neck of the animal, which are very convenient in handling them. These skins are more easily transported on the backs of the donkeys than barrels, kegs, or jars could be. Many kinds of wine are transported in these skins, which could hardly be carried on the back of an animal in any other way. Except a few great highways, Spain is not provided with roads. In some places, when you ride in a carriage, you will take to the open fields; and very rough indeed they are sometimes.”The party proceeded on their walk, and soon reached the Cathedral of San Salvador, generally calledEl Seo; a term as applicable to any other cathedral in Aragon as to this one. It is a sombre old structure: a part of it is said to have been built in the year 290; and pious people have been building it till within three hundred and fifty years of the present time. There are some grand monuments in it; among them that of Arbues, who was assassinated for carrying out the decrees of the Inquisition. The people of Aragon did not takekindly to this institution; but the murder was terribly avenged, and the Inquisition established its authority in the midst of the tumult it had excited. Murillo, the great Spanish painter, made the assassination of Arbues the subject of one of his principal pictures.Saragossa has two cathedrals, the second of which is calledEl Pilar, because it contains the very pillar on which the Virgin landed when she came down from heaven in one of her visits to Spain. It appears that St. James—Santiago in Spanish—came to Spain after the crucifixion of the Saviour, in the year 40, to preach the gospel to the natives. When he had got as far as Saragossa, he was naturally tired, and went to sleep. In this state the Virgin came to him with a message from the Saviour, requiring him to build a chapel in honor of herself. She stood on a jasper pillar, and was attended by a multitude of angels. St. James obeyed the command of the heavenly visitor, and erected a small chapel, only sixteen feet long and half as wide, where the Virgin often attended public worship in subsequent years. On this spot, and over the original chapel, was built the present church. On the pillar stands a dingy image of the Virgin, which is said to be from the studio of St. Luke, who appears to have been both a painter and a sculptor. It is clothed in the richest velvet, brocade, and satin, and is spangled with gold and diamonds. It cures all diseases to which flesh is heir; for which the grateful persons thus healed have bestowed the most costly presents. It is little less than sacrilege to express any disbelief in this story of the Virgin, or in the miracles achieved by the image.Dr. Winstock and his young companions went from the churches, to take a walk in the older part of the city. The narrow streets reminded them of Constantinople, while many of the buildings were similar, the upper part projecting out over the street. The balconies were shaded with mats, like the parti-colored draperies that hang from the windows in Naples. Many of the houses were of the Moorish fashion, with thepatio, or court-yard, in the centre, with galleries around it, from which admission to the various apartments is obtained. Saragossa has a leaning tower built of brick, which was the campanile, or belfry, of the town.The party of the surgeon spent the rest of the day in a walk through the surrounding country, crossing the Ebro to the suburb of the city. Near the bridge they met a couple of ladies who wore the mantilla, a kind of veil worn as a head-dress, instead of the bonnet, which is a part of the national costume of Spain. All over Spain this fashion prevails, though of course the modes of Paris are adopted by the most fashionable ladies of the capital and other cities.At four o’clock the ship’s company dined at the hotel, and then wandered about the city at will till dark. They were advised to retire at an early hour, and most of them did so. They were called at half-past four in the morning, and at six were on the train. At half-past eight they were at Tudela, the head of navigation on the Ebro. At quarter past one they were at Miranda, on the line from Bayonne to Madrid, where dinner was waiting for them. This meal was decidedly Spanish, though it was served in courses. The soup was odorousof garlic, which is the especial vice of Spanish cookery to those who have an aversion to it. Then came the national dish, theolla podrida, a kind of stew made of every kind of meat and every kind of vegetable, not omitting a profusion of garlic. Some of the students declared that it was “first-rate.” A few did not like it at all, and more were willing to tolerate it. We do not consider it “bad to take.” The next dish was calves’ brains fried in batter, which is not national, but is oftener had at the hotels thanolla podrida. The next course was mutton chops, followed by roast chicken, with a salad. The dessert was fruit and raisins. On the table was plenty ofVal de Peñaswine, which the students were forbidden to taste.At half-past two the tourists departed, and at twenty minutes to six arrived in the darkness at Burgos. The port watch went to theFonda del Norte, and the starboard to theFonda Rafaela. The doctor and the captain were at the latter, and it was more like the inns of Don Quixote’s time than any that Sheridan had seen. It had no public room except thecomedor, or dining-room. The hotel seemed to be a number of buildings thrown together around a court-yard, on one side of which was the stable. Sheridan and Murray were shown to a room with six other students, but the apartment contained four beds. It was large enough for four more, being not less than thirty feet long, and half as wide. It was comfortably furnished, and every thing about it was clean and neat. The establishment was not unlike an old-fashioned country tavern in New England.Dinner, or, as the students called it, supper, was served at six o’clock. The meal was Spanish, beingabout the same as the one they had taken at Miranda. Instead of theolla podridawas a kind of stew, which in the days of Gil Blas would have been called aragout.“This isn’t a bad dinner,” said Murray, when they had finished the third course.“It is a very good one, I think,” replied Sheridan.“I have been reading books of travel in Spain for the last two weeks, most of them written by Englishmen; and I had come to the conclusion that we should be starved to death if we left the ship for more than a day or two. The writers found a great deal of fault with their food, and growled about garlic. I rather like garlic.”“The doctor says the English are very much given to grumbling about every thing,” added Sheridan. “I don’t think we shall starve if we are fed as well as we have been so far.”“Our room is as good as we have found in most of the hotels in other countries. So far, the trains on the railroads have been on time instead of an hour late, as one writer declared they always were.”“If one insists upon growling, it is easy enough to find something to growl at.”In the evening some of the party strolled about town, but it was as quiet as a tomb; for the rule in Spain is, “Early to bed, and late to rise.” But the students were out of bed in good time in the morning, and taking a view of the city. They found a very pretty promenade along the little river Arlanzon, whose waters find their way into the Duero; and at a considerable distance from it obtained a fine view of the greatcathedral. It is impossible to obtain any just view of it, except at a distance, on account of the mass of buildings which are huddled around it, and close to it. But the vast church towers above them all, and presents to the eye a forest of spires great and small. Near the river, in an irregularplaza, is an old gateway, which is quite picturesque. The structure looks like a castle, with round towers at the corners, and circular turrets. On the front are a number of figures carved in stone.Breakfast was served at half-past ten, and dinner at six, at theFonda; but special tables were set for the students at more convenient hours. A Spanish meal could not be agreeable to nice and refined American people. The men often sit with their hats on, and between the courses smoke a cigarette, orcigarilloin Spanish. They converse in an energetic tone, but are polite if addressed, though they mind their own business severely, and seem to be devoid of curiosity—or at least are too dignified to stare—in regard to strangers. The food is very odorous of onions and garlic, and in the smaller inns consists largely of stews or ragouts, generally of mutton or kidneys. New cheese, not pressed, is sometimes an item of the bill of fare.Val de Pañaswine is furnished free all over Spain at thetable d’hote; but it always tastes of the skins in which it is transported, and most Americans who partake of it think it is poor stuff. Great quantities of it are exported to Bordeaux, where it is manufactured into claret.After breakfast, the students were assembled to enable Professor Mapps to tell them something about the history of the city, to which he added a very full accountof the Cid. Of his remarks we can give only an abstract.Burgos is one of the most famous cities of Castile, of which it was at one time the capital. The name comes from the same word as “Burg,” and means a fortified eminence; and such it is, being on the watershed between the basins of the Ebro and the Duero. It was founded in 884 by a Castilian knight. It was the birthplace of Ferdinand Gonzales, who first took the title of Count of Castile, shook off the yoke of Leon, and established the kingdom of Castile. The city is on the direct line to Madrid from Paris. The French captured the place in 1808; and it was twice besieged and taken by the Duke of Wellington in the peninsular war.The Cid is the popular hero of Spain, and especially of the people of Burgos. He was the King Arthur of Spain, and there is about as much romance in his history as in that of the British demigod. The Cid Campeador, “knight champion,” was born about 1040, and died when he was not much over fifty. His name was Rodrigo Ruy Diaz; and his marvellous exploits are set forth in the “Poem of the Cid,” believed to have been written in the twelfth century. It is the oldest poem in the Spanish language. His first great deed was to meet the Count Gomez, who had grossly insulted the Cid’s aged father, in a fair fight in the field, and utterly vanquish him, cutting off his head. The old man was unable to eat from brooding over his wrong; but, when Ruy appeared with the head of the slain count, his appetite was restored. By some he is said to have married Ximena, the daughter of his deadadversary. Great was the fame of the Cid’s prowess after this exploit. Shortly after this event, five Moorish kings, with a powerful force, entered Castile; and the Cid roused the country to oppose their progress, and fell upon the enemy, routing the five kings with great slaughter, and making all of them his prisoners. Then he fought for King Ferdinand against the Aragonese, and won all that was in dispute. When France demanded the homage of his king, he entered that country, and won a victory which settled the question of homage for all time. After this event he did considerable domestic fighting when Castile was divided among the sons of the dead sovereign; and was finally banished by the new king. He departed with his knights and men-at-arms, and took up a strong position in the territory of the Moors, where he made war, right and left, with all the kingdoms of the peninsula except his own country, which he had the grace to except in his conquests. He took Valencia, where he seems to have established himself. His last exploit in the flesh was the capture of Murviedro. Then he died, and was buried in Valencia.Now that the Cid, who had been the scourge of the Moors, was dead, the Christians could no longer hold out against the infidels, and were in danger of losing what they had gained. In this emergency they clothed the corpse of the dead hero in armor, and fastened it on his war-steed, placing his famous sword in his hand. Thus equipped for battle, the dead Cid was led into the field in the midst of the soldiers. The very sight of him struck terror to the hearts of the Moslems, and the defunct warrior won yet another battle. He wasmarched through the land, the enemy fleeing before him in every direction, to Burgos. He seems not to have been buried when he got there, but was embalmed and placed in a chair of state, where he went into the business of working miracles. His long white beard fell upon his breast, his sword was at his side, and he seemed to be alive rather than dead. One day a Jew, out of bravado, attempted to take hold of his venerable beard, when the Cid began to draw his sword, whereat the Jew was so frightened that he fainted away. When he recovered he at once became a Christian. The Cid was a fiery man, and did not hesitate to slap the face of a king or the pope, if he was angry. Even after he was dead, and sitting in his chair, he sometimes lost his temper; and Ximine found it expedient to bury him, in order to keep him out of trouble.The students went to the cathedral first. It is a vast pile of buildings, and is considered one of the finest churches in Europe. There is an immense amount of fine and delicate work about it, which cannot be described. The dome is so beautiful that Philip II. said it was the work of angels rather than men. The choir is quite a lofty enclosure, which obstructs the view from the pavement. The archbishop’s palace, and the cloister, on one side, seem to be a part of the church. It contains, as usual, a great many chapels, each of which has its own treasures of art or antiquity. In one of them is the famous Christ of Burgos, which is said to have been made by Nicodemus after he and Joseph of Arimathea had buried the Saviour. As usual, it was found in a box floating in the sea. The hair, beard, eyelashes, and the thorns, are allreal; and a French writer says the skin of the figure is human. The image works miracles without number, sweats on Friday, and even bleeds at times; and is held in the highest veneration by the people.In another chapel is the coffer of the Cid, an old worm-eaten chest bound with iron. When the champion was banished by the king, as he wanted to go off with flying colors, and was in need of a large sum of money, he filled this chest with sand and stones, and, without allowing them to look into it, assured a couple of rich Jews that it was full of gold and jewels. They took his word for it (strange as such a transaction would be in modern times), and loaned the money he needed. When he had captured Valencia, he paid the loan, and exposed the cheat he had put upon them. Of course they were willing to forgive him after he had paid the money.The next point of interest with the students was the town hall, where they were permitted to look upon the bones of the Cid and his wife, which are kept in a box, with a wire screen over them to prevent any heathen from stealing them. The bones are all mixed up, and no one can tell which belong to the Cid and which to his wife.At noon Dr. Winstock procured an antiquated carriage at the hotel stable, and took Sheridan and Murray out into the country. After a ride of a couple of miles they reached Miraflores, which is a convent founded by John II., and finished by Isabella I. Its church contains the royal tomb in which John II. is buried, and is one of the finest things of the kind in the world, the sculpture being of the most delicate character. Several other Castilian kings are buried in this place.The little party took the carriage again, intending to visit the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña. There was no road, only an ill-defined track across the fields; and very rough fields they were, covered with rocks so thick that the vehicle often had to pass over many of them. The passengers were terribly shaken up. On the way they occasionally met a peasant riding on or leading a mule or donkey loaded with various commodities carried in panniers. They were interesting as a study.San Pedro is nothing but a ruin. It was established in the fifth century; and in the ninth the Moors destroyed the edifice, and killed two hundred monks who lived in it. It was rebuilt; and, being the favorite convent of the Cid, he requested that he might be buried in it. The monument is in a side chapel, and looks as though it had been whitewashed at no very remote period. The doctor read the inscription on the empty tomb. A dirty peasant who joined the party as soon as they got out the carriage followed them at every step, almost looking into their mouths when they spoke.When the party started to return, things began to be very lively with them. First Sheridan rubbed his legs; then Murray did so; and before long the doctor joined in the recreation.“What’s the matter?” asked the surgeon, laughing.“I don’t know; but my legs feel as though I had an attack of the seven-years’ itch,” replied the captain with a vigorous attempt to reach and conquer the difficulty.“That’s just my case,” added Murray, with an equally violent demonstration.“I don’t understand it,” continued the captain.“I do,” answered the surgeon, vigorously rubbing one of his legs.“What is it?” asked Sheridan, suspecting that they all had some strange disease.“Cosas de España,” laughed the doctor.“But that is Spanish; and I don’t understand the lingo.”“Acosa de Españais a ‘thing of Spain;’ fleas are things of Spain; and that is what is the matter with you and me. The lining of this carriage has been repaired by covering it in part with cloth with a long nap, which is alive with fleas.”“The wicked flea!” exclaimed Murray.“He goeth about in Spain, seeking whom he may devour,” added the doctor.When they reached the hotel, supper was ready; but they did not want any just then, for no one feels hungry while a myriad of fleas are picking his bones. Garments were taken off, and brushed on the inside; the skin was washed with cologne-water; and the party were happy till they took in a new supply.At about eleven at night, the ship’s company took the train south, and at quarter past eight the next morning were atEl Escorial.CHAPTER IX.THE HOLD OF THE TRITONIA.Raimundowas in the hold of the Tritonia. He had made for himself a hiding-place under the dunnage in the run, by removing a quantity of ballast, and arranging a number of empty casks so as to conceal his retreat from any who might search the hold for him. The task had been ingeniously accomplished; and those who looked for him had examined every hole and corner above the ballast, that could possibly hold a person of his size; and they had no suspicion that there was room even for a cat under the dunnage.The young Spaniard had fully considered his situation before he ventured into the waters of Spain. He was fully prepared for the event that had occurred. The plan of his hiding-place was his own; but he knew that he could not make it, or remain in it for any considerable time, without assistance. If he spent a week or even three days in his den, he must have food and drink. He did not believe the squadron would remain many weeks in Spanish waters; and it was his purpose to stay in the hold during this time, if he found it necessary to do so. A confederate was therefore indispensable to the success of the scheme.Certain work required to be done in the hold, such as getting up stores and keeping every thing in order, was divided among the stewards. Those employed in the cabin attended to the after-hold, and those in the steerage to the fore-hold. One of the former was a Cuban mulatto, a very bright fellow, who spoke Spanish as well as English. Raimundo had become quite intimate with him, because they both spoke their native tongue, which it was pleasant to each to hear, and the steward had become very fond of him. His name was Hugo; and Raimundo was confident the man would be his friend in the emergency.During study hours, the vice-principal and the professors were employed in the steerage. When the quarter-watch to which the young Spaniard belonged was off duty, instead of spending his time on deck as his companions did in fine weather, he remained in the cabin, which at times was entirely deserted. He found that Hugo was willing to listen to him; and by degrees he told him his whole story, as he had related it to Scott, and disclosed the plan he intended to adopt when his uncle or his agents should put in a claim for him. Hugo was ready and anxious to take part in the enterprise. There could be no doubt in regard to his fidelity, for the steward would have perilled his life in the service of the young Spaniard.At a favorable time they visited the hold together; and Raimundo indicated what was to be done in the preparation of the hiding-place. Both of them worked at the job. The ballast taken from the hold was carefully distributed in other places under the dunnage. Hugo had charge of the after-hold, and his being there so much excited no suspicion.When the ship’s company returned, after the lecture, Raimundo waited in the cabin till he was alone with Hugo; for all hands were on deck, observing the strange scenes around them. He then descended to the hold, and deposited himself in the den prepared for him. His faithful confederate had lined it with old garments and pieces of sail-cloth, so that the place was not as uncomfortable as it might have been. The “mysterious disappearance” had been duly effected.Hugo carried food and drink to his charge in the morning, and left a pail of water for his ablutions, if he chose to make them. Of course the steward was very nervous while the several searches were in progress; but, as he spoke Spanish, he was able to mislead thealguacil, even while he professed to desire that every part of the vessel should be examined. Hugo not only provided food and water for the self-made prisoner, but he informed him, when he could, what was going on; so that he knew when all hands had gone on shore, and was duly apprised of the fact that the Josephines and Tritonias were to proceed to Lisbon in the Prince. But the steward dared not remain long in the hold, while Salter was in the cabin. Raimundo wanted to get on board of the steamer that day or night, if it were possible; but the chances were all against him.Hugo assured him that it would be entirely safe for him to leave his hiding-place, as he could easily keep out of the way of any chance visitor in the hold, and he would notify him if another search was likely to be made. Availing himself of this permission, Raimundo crawled out of his hole. It was arelief to his limbs to stretch them; and he exercised himself as freely as he could. While he was thus engaged, he saw the fore-scuttle opened, and some one come down. The fugitive stepped behind the mainmast. He saw the figure of one of the students, as he judged that he was from his size, moving stealthily in the gloom of the place. In a moment more, he rushed up the steps, and disappeared. In an instant afterwards, Raimundo saw a flame flash up from the pile of rubbish.The vessel was on fire, or she soon would be; for there was fire near her timbers. Grasping the bucket of water Hugo had left for his ablutions, he poured enough on the fire to extinguish it, and then retreated to the covert of the mainmast. A second time the incendiary-match was applied; and again the fugitive put it out with the contents of the pail. For the third time the incendiary pile that was to doom the beautiful Tritonia to destruction was lighted; and this time the wretch who applied the match evidently intended to remain till the flames were well under way. The fugitive was greatly disturbed; for, if he showed himself to the incendiary, he would betray his secret, and expose his presence. But he could not hesitate to save the vessel at whatever consequences to himself; and, as soon as he saw the blaze, he rushed aft, accosted the villain, and stamped out the fire, for he had entirely emptied the pail.“What are you about, you villain? Do you mean to burn the vessel?” demanded Raimundo, who did not yet know who the incendiary was.Bill Stout was startled, not to say overwhelmed, bythis unexpected interference with his plans. He recognized the second master, whose mysterious disappearance had excited so much astonishment. But he was prompt to see, that, if Raimundo had detected him in a crime, he had possession of the fugitive’s secret. Somebody on shore wanted the second master, and an officer had come on board for him. Perhaps he was guilty of some grave misdemeanor, and for that reason would not allow himself to be caught; for none of the students except Scott knew why the young Spaniard was required on shore. Bill Stout did not care: he only saw that it was an even thing between himself and Raimundo.“Who are you?” asked the fugitive, when he had waited a moment for an answer to his first question.“I advise you not to speak too loud, Mr. Raimundo, unless you wish to have the chief steward know you are here,” replied Bill, when he had recovered his self-possession, and taken a hurried view of the situation.“Stout!” exclaimed Raimundo, identifying the familiar voice.But he spoke in a low tone, for he was not disposed to summon Mr. Salter to the hold, though he had felt that he sacrificed himself and his plan when he showed himself to the incendiary.“That’s my name,” replied the young villain.“I understand what you were scheming at in your watch on deck. Lingall, Pardee, and Gibbs are your associates in this rascality,” added Raimundo.Stout, who was not before aware that he had been watched by the second master or by any other officer, was rather taken aback by this announcement; but hepromptly denied that the students named were concerned in the affair.“Lingall is with you, I know. I see how you have managed the affair. He is your companion in the brig, which was built over the midship scuttle,” continued Raimundo. “But why do you desire to burn the vessel?”“Because I want to get out of her,” replied Bill sullenly. “But I can’t stop here to talk.”“Do you really mean to burn the Tritonia?”“That’s what I did mean; but, since you have found me out, I shall not be likely to do it now.”“Whatever you do, don’t do that. You are in the waters of Spain now, and I don’t know but you would have to be tried and punished for it in this country.”Bill Stout had no idea of being tried and punished for the crime in any country; and he had not even considered it a crime when he thought of the matter. He did not expect to be found out when he planned the job: villains never expect to be. But he was alarmed now; and the deed he had attempted seemed to be a hundred times more wicked and dangerous than at any time before.“I can’t stop here: Salter will miss me if I do,” added Bill, moving up the ladder.“Wait a minute,” interposed Raimundo, who was willing to save himself from exposure if he could.“I’ll come down again, after a while,” answered Bill, as he opened the scuttle, and got into the brig.“Why did you stay down so long?” demanded Bark Lingall nervously.“It’s all up now, and we can’t do any thing,” repliedBill sullenly, as he seated himself on his stool, and picked up one of his books.“What’s the matter?”“We are found out.”“Found out!” exclaimed Bark; and his heart rose into his throat at the announcement. “How can that be?”“I was seen doing it.”“Who saw you?”“You couldn’t guess in a month,” added Bill, who fixed his gaze on his book while he was talking.“Didn’t I hear you speaking to some one in the hold, Bill?” asked Bark, as he picked up a book, in order to follow the studious example of his companion.“I was speaking to some one,” replied Bill.“Who was it?”“Raimundo; and he knew that you were concerned in the job without my mentioning your name;” and Bill explained what had passed between himself and the second master.“Raimundo!” exclaimed Bark, in a musing manner. “Then he mysteriously disappeared into the hold.”“He did; and he has us where the hair is short,” added Bill.“And perhaps we have him where the hair is long enough to get hold of. All we have to do is to tell Salter, when he comes to look at us, that Raimundo is in the hold.”“We won’t do it; and then Raimundo won’t say we set the vessel on fire,” protested Bill.“Wait a bit, Bill. He is a spooney, a chaplain’s lamb. He may keep still till he gets out of his ownscrape, whatever it may be, and then blow on us when he is safe himself.”“I don’t know: I shall see him again after Salter has paid us another visit.”The chief steward came into the steerage a few minutes later; and seeing both of the prisoners engaged in study, as he supposed, he probably believed the hour of reformation had come. As soon as he had gone, Bill opened the scuttle again, and went down into the hold; but he was unwilling to leave the brig for more than a few moments at a time, lest some accident should betray his absence to the chief steward. He arranged a plan by which he could talk with Raimundo without danger from above. Returning to the brig, he lay down on the floor, with a book in his hand, so that his head was close to the scuttle. Bark was seated on the floor, also with a book in his hand, in such a position as to conceal the trap-door, which was raised a few inches, from the gaze of Mr. Salter, if he should happen suddenly to enter the steerage. Raimundo was to stand on the steps of the ladder, with his head on a level with the cabin floor, where he could hear Bill, and be heard by him.“I think we can’t afford to quarrel,” said Bill magnanimously. “We are all in the same boat now. I suppose you are wanted on shore for some dido you cut up before you left your home.”“I did nothing wrong before I left my home,” replied Raimundo; and it galled him terribly to be obliged to make terms with the rascals in the brig. “My trouble is simply a family affair; and, if captured, I shall be subjected to no penalty whatever.”“Is that all?” asked Bill, sorry it was no worse.“That’s all; but for reasons I don’t care to explain, I do not wish to be taken back to my uncle in Barcelona. But I will give myself up before I will let you burn the Tritonia,” replied Raimundo, with no little indignation in his tones.“Of course, as things stand now, we shall not burn the vessel,” added Bill: “we will make a fair trade with you.”“I shall make no trades of any kind; but I leave you free to do what you think best, and I shall remain so myself,” said Raimundo, who was too high-toned to bargain with fellows wicked enough to burn the beautiful Tritonia. “It is enough that I wish to get away from this city.”“If you clear out, you won’t blow on us,” added Bill, willing to put the best construction on the statement of the second master.“I promise nothing; but this I say: if you burn the Tritonia, whether I am on board or a thousand miles away, I will inform the principal who set the fire.”“Of course we should not do any thing of that sort now,” added Bark, whose head was near enough to the scuttle to enable him to hear all that was said.“I shall be obliged to keep out of the way of all on board, for the present at least,” said Raimundo.“We are satisfied with that,” replied Bill, who seemed to be in haste to reach some other branch of the subject.“Very well: then there is nothing more to be said,” answered Raimundo, who was quite willing to close the interview at this point.The conspirators were not so willing; for the chance of escape held out to them by the burning of the vessel was gone, and they were very much dissatisfied with the situation. It would be madness to repeat the attempt to destroy the vessel; and the future looked very unpromising. All hands were going off on a very desirable cruise in the steamer. Ben Pardee and Lon Gibbs had apparently deserted them when tempted by the voyage to Lisbon. They had a dismal prospect of staying in the brig, under the care of Marline and Rimmer, for the next three weeks.The second master had plenty of time to think over his arrangements for the next week or two; and he was not much better satisfied with the immediate prospect for the future, than were the occupants of the brig. His accommodations were far less comfortable than theirs; and the experience of a single night had caused him to fear that he might take cold and be sick. Besides, he had not calculated that the Tritonia was to lie at this port for two or three weeks, thus increasing the danger and discomfort of his situation. If he had to abandon his hiding-place, he preferred to take his chances at any other port rather than Barcelona. It was more than probable that Marline and Rimmer would overhaul the hold, and re-stow the boxes and barrels while the vessel was at anchor; and possibly the principal had ordered some repairs at this favorable time.His chance of getting on board of the Prince before she sailed was too small to afford him any hope. The change the principal had made in the programme interfered sadly with his calculations. Mr. Lowington had made this alteration in order to enable the students tovisit the northern and central parts of the peninsula before the weather became too cold to permit them to do so with any degree of comfort. The fugitive was willing, therefore, to change his plans if it was possible.“Hold on a minute,” interposed Bill Stout, when Raimundo was about to descend the ladder. “What are you going to do with yourself while the vessel lies here for the next three weeks?”“I shall have to keep out of sight in the hold,” replied the second master.“But you can’t do that. You will starve to death.”“I have looked out for that.”Though Bill Stout asked some questions on this point, Raimundo declined to say in what manner he had provided for his rations.“Do you know who are in charge on board now?” asked Bill.“Only Mr. Salter and one of the stewards,” replied the fugitive.“Why don’t you use your chance while Marline and Rimmer are ashore, and leave the vessel? You can get away without being seen.”“I can’t get out of the vessel without going through the cabin where Mr. Salter is,” answered Raimundo; but the suggestion gave him a lively hope.“Yes, you can: you can get out by the fore-scuttle, go over the bow, and roost on the bobstay till a shore boat comes along,” added Bill. “Only you musn’t let the steward see you. Salter is in the cabin, and he won’t know any thing about it.”Raimundo was grateful for the suggestion, though he was not willing to acknowledge it, considering thesource from which it came. Hugo would help him, instead of being a hinderance. The steward would call a boat, and have it all ready for him when he got out of the vessel. He could even keep Mr. Salter in the cabin, while he made his escape, by engaging his attention in some matter of business.“I will see what I can do,” said the fugitive as he left the ladder.He went aft to the cabin ladder, and raised the scuttle an inch. Hugo was setting the table for Mr. Salter’s lunch. He saw the trap-door raised, and he immediately went below for a jar of pickles. In five minutes Raimundo had recited his plan to him. In five minutes more Hugo had a boat at the bow of the Tritonia, waiting for its passenger. At half-past twelve, Hugo called Mr. Salter to his lunch; and, when this gentleman took his seat at the table, Hugo raised the trap, and slammed it down as though it had not been in place before. Raimundo understood the signal.The fugitive went forward, and ascended to the deck by the fore-scuttle. He was making his way over the bow when he found that he was followed by Bill Stout and Bark Lingall.“What are you doing here?” demanded Raimundo, astonished and annoyed at the action of the incendiaries.“We are going with you,” replied Bill Stout. “Over with you! if you say a word, we will call Salter.”Raimundo dropped into the boat that was waiting for him, and the villains from the brig followed him.CHAPTER X.THE ESCURIAL AND PHILIP II.Beforethe train stopped, the students obtained a fair view of the Escurial, which is a vast pile of buildings, located in the most desolate place to be found even in Spain. The village is hardly less solemn and gloomy than the tremendous structure that towers above. The students breakfasted at the twofondasin the place; and then Mr. Mapps, as usual, had something to say to them:—“The Escurial, orEl Escorialas it is called in Spanish, is a monastery, palace, and church. The name is derived fromscoriæ, the refuse of iron-lore after it is smelted; and there were iron-mines in this vicinity. The full name of the building is ‘El Real Sitio de San Lorenzo el Real del Escorial,’ or, literally, ‘The Royal Seat of St. Lawrence, the Royal, of the Escurial.’ It was built by Philip II. in commemoration of the battle of St. Quentin, in 1557, won by the arms of Philip, though he was not present at the battle. He had made a vow, that, if the saint gave him the victory, he would build the most magnificent monastery in the world in his honor. St. Lawrence was kind enough toaccommodate him with the victory; and this remarkable pile of buildings was the result. Philip redeemed his vow, and even did more than this; for, in recognition of the fact that the saint was martyred on a gridiron, he built this monastery in the form of that useful cooking implement. As you see, the structure is in the form of a square; and, within it, seventeen ranges of buildings cross each other at right angles. The towers at each corner are two hundred feet high; and the grand dome in the centre is three hundred and twenty feet high.“The total length of the building is seven hundred and forty feet, by five hundred and eighty feet wide. It was begun in 1563, when Philip laid the corner-stone with his own hands; and was completed twenty-one years later. It cost, in money of our time, fifteen millions of dollars. It has four thousand windows; though you may see that most of them are rather small. The church, which is properly the chapel of the monastery, is three hundred and seventy-five feet long, and contains forty chapels. The high altar is ninety feet high, and fifty feet wide, and is composed of jasper. Directly under it is the royal tomb, in which are laid the remains of all the sovereigns of Spain from Charles V. to the present time. The Spaniards regard the Escurial as the eighth wonder of the world. It is grand, solemn, and gloomy, like Philip who built it. In the mountain, a mile and a half from the Escurial, is a seat built of granite, which Philip used to occupy while watching the progress of the work.”The students separated, dividing into parties to suitthemselves. All the available guides were engaged for them; and in a few minutes the interior of the church presented a scene that would have astonished the gloomy Philip if he could have stepped out of his shelf below to look at it, for a hundred young Americans—from the land that Columbus gave to Castile and Leon—was an unusual sight within its cold and deserted walls.“I suppose you have read the lives of Charles V. and Philip II.,” said Dr. Winstock, as he entered the great building with his young friends.Both of them had read Robertson and Prescott and Irving; and it was because they were generally well read up that the doctor liked to be with them.“It isn’t of much use for any one who has not read the life of Philip II. to come here: at least, he would be in the dark all the time,” added the doctor.“I have seen it stated that Charles V. and his mother, Crazy Jane, both wanted a convent built which should contain a burial-place for the royal family,” said Sheridan.“That is true. All of them were very pious, and inclined to dwell in convents. Charles V. showed his taste at his abdication by retiring to Yuste,” replied the surgeon.“The architecture of the building is very plain.”“Yes,—simple, massive, and grand.”“Like Philip, as Professor Mapps said.”“It took him two years to find a suitable spot for the building,” said the doctor.“I don’t think he could have found a worse one,” laughed Murray.“But he found just the one he wanted; and he did not select it to suit you and me. Look off at those mountains on the north,—the Guadarramas. They tower above Philip’s mausoleum, but they do not belittle it. The region is rough but grand: it is desolate; but that makes it more solemn and impressive. It is a monastery and a tomb that he built, not a pleasure-house.”“But he made a royal residence of it,” suggested Murray.“For the same reason that his father chose to end his days in a monastery. Philip would be a wild fanatic in our day; but he is to be judged by his own time. He was really a king and a monk, as much one as the other. When we go into the room where he died, and where he spent the last days of his life, and recall some of his history there, we shall understand him better. I don’t admire his character, but I am disposed to do justice to him.”The party entered the church, called in Spanishtemplo: it is three hundred and twenty feet long, and it is the same to the top of the cupola.“The interior is so well proportioned that you do not get an adequate idea of the size of it,” said the doctor. “Consider that you could put almost any church in our own country into this one, and have plenty of room for its spire under that dome. It is severely plain; but I think it is grand and impressive. The high altar, which I believe the professor did not make as large as it really is, is very rich in marbles and precious stones, and cost about two hundred thousand dollars.”“That’s enough to build twenty comfortable countrychurches at home,” added Murray. “And this whole building cost money enough to build fifteen thousand handsome churches in any country. Of course there are plenty of beggars in Spain.”“That is the republican view of the matter,” replied Dr. Winstock. “But the builder of this mighty fabric believed he was serving God acceptably in rearing it; and we must judge him by his motive, and consider the age in which he lived. Observe, as Mr Ford says in his hand-book, that the pantheon, or crypt where the kings are buried, is just under the steps of the high altar: it was so planned by Philip, that the host, when it was elevated, might be above the royal dead. Now we will go into therelicario.”“I think I have seen about relics enough to last me the rest of my lifetime,” said Sheridan.“You need not see them if you do not wish to do so,” laughed the surgeon. “This is a tolerably free country just now, and you can do as you please.”But the captain followed his party.“The French carried away vast quantities of the treasures of the church when they were engaged in conquering the country. But they left the bones of the saints, which the pious regard as the real treasures. Among other things stolen was a statue presented by the people of Messina to Philip III., weighing two hundred pounds, of solid silver, and holding in its hand a gold vessel weighing twenty-six pounds; besides forty-seven of the richest vases, and a heavy crown set with rubies and other precious stones,” continued Dr. Winstock, consulting a guide-book he carried in his hand. “This book says there are 7,421 relics here now, amongwhich are ten whole bodies, 144 heads, 306 whole legs and arms; here is one of the real bars of the gridiron on which St. Lawrence was martyred, with portions of the broiled flesh upon it; and there is one of his feet, with a piece of coal sticking between the toes.”“But where did they get that bar of the gridiron?” asked Murray earnestly. “St. Lawrence was broiled in the third century.”“I don’t know,” replied the doctor. “You must not ask me any questions of that kind, for I cannot answer them.”The party returned to the church again; and the surgeon called the attention of his companions to the oratorios, one on each side of the altar, which are small rooms for the use of the royal persons when they attend the mass.“The one on the left is the one used by Philip II.,” added the doctor. “You see the latticed window through which he looked at the priest. Next to it is his cabinet, where he worked and where he died. We shall visit them from the palace.”After looking at the choir, and examining the bishop’s throne, the party with a dozen others visited the pantheon, or royal tomb. The descent is by a flight of marble steps, and the walls are also of the same material. At the second landing are two doors, that on the left leading to the “pantheon de los infantes,” which is the tomb of those queens who were not mothers of sovereigns of Spain, and of princes who did not sit on the throne. There are sixty bodies here, including Don Carlos, the son of Philip, Don John of Austria, who asked to be buried here as the proper reward forhis services, and other persons whose names are known to history.After looking at these interesting relics of mortality, the tourists descended to the pantheon, which is a heathenish name to apply to a Christian burial-place erected by one so pious as Philip II. It is octagonal in form, forty-six feet in diameter and thirty-eight feet high. It is built entirely of marble and jasper. It contains an altar of the same stone, where mass is sometimes celebrated. These mortuary chapels were not built by Philip II., who made only plain vaults; but by Philip III. and Philip IV., who did not inherit the taste for simplicity of their predecessor on the throne. Around the tomb are twenty-six niches, all of them made after the same pattern, each containing a sarcophagus, in most of which is the body of a king or queen. On the right of the altar are the kings, and on the left the queens. All of them are labelled with the name of the occupant, as “Carlos V.,” “Filipe II.,” “Fernando VII.,” &c.“Can it be possible that we see the coffins of Charles V. and Philip II.?” said Sheridan, who was very much impressed by the sight before him.“There is no doubt of it,” replied the doctor.“I can hardly believe that the body of Philip II. is in that case,” added the captain. “I see no reason to doubt the fact; but it seems so very strange that I should be looking at the coffin of that cold and cruel king who lived before our country was settled, and of whom I have read so much.”“I think before you leave Spain you will see something that will impress you even more than this.”“What is it?”“I will not mention it yet; for it is better not to anticipate these things. All the kings of Spain from Charles V. are buried here, except Philip V. and Ferdinand VI.”“What an odd way they have here of spelling Charles and Philip!” said Murray. “These names don’t look quite natural to me.”“Carlos Quinto is the Spanish for Charles Fifth; and Ferdinand Seventh is Fernando Septimo, as you see on the urn. But our way of writing these things is as odd to the Spaniards as theirs is to us. The late queen and her father, when they came to the Escurial, used to hear mass at midnight in this tomb.”“That was cheerful,” added Sheridan.“They had a fancy for that sort of thing. Maria Louisa, Philip’s wife, scratched her name on one of these marble cases with her scissors.”The party in the pantheon returned to the church to make room for another company to visit it. Dr. Winstock and his friends ascended the grand staircase, and from the top of the building obtained a fine view of the surrounding country, which at this season was as desolate and forbidding as possible. After this they took a survey of the monastery, most of which has the aspect of a barrack. They looked with interest at some of the portraits among the pictures, especially at those of Philip and Charles V. In the library they glanced at the old manuscripts, and at the catalogue in which some of Philip’s handwriting was pointed out to them.They next went to the palace, which is certainly amean abode for a king, though it was improved and adorned by some of the builder’s successors. Philip asked only a cell in the house he had erected and consecrated to God; and so he made the palace very simple and plain. Some of the long and narrow rooms are adorned with tapestries on the walls; but there is nothing in the palace to detain the visitor beyond a few minutes, except the apartments of Philip II. They are two small rooms, hardly more than six feet wide. One of them is Philip’s cabinet, where he worked on affairs of state; and the other is the oratory, where he knelt at the little latticed window which commanded a view of the priests at the high altar of the church. The old table at which he wrote, the chair in which he sat, and the footstool on which he placed his gouty leg, are still there. The doctor, who had been here before, pointed them out to the students.“It almost seems as though he had just left the place,” said Sheridan. “I don’t see how a great king could be content to spend his time in such a gloomy den as this.”“It was his own fancy, and he made his own nest to suit himself,” replied the doctor. “He was writing at that table when the loss of the invincible armada was announced to him. It is said he did not move a muscle, though he had wasted eighteen years of his life and a hundred million ducats upon the fleet and the scheme. He was kneeling at the window when Don John of Austria came in great haste to tell him of the victory of Lepanto; but he was not allowed to see the king till the latter had finished his devotions.”“He was a cool old fellow,” added Murray.“When he was near the end, he caused himself to be carried in a litter all over the wonderful building he had erected, that he might take a last look at the work of his hands,” continued the doctor. “He was finally brought to this place, where he received extreme unction; and, having taken leave of his family, he died, grasping the crucifix which his father had held in his last moments.”The party passed out of the buildings, and gave some time to the gardens and grounds of the Escurial. There are some trees, a few of them the spindling and ghostly-looking Lombardy poplars; but, beyond the immediate vicinity of the “eighth wonder,” the country is desolate and wild, without a tree to vary the monotony of the scene. The doctor led the way down the hill to theCasita del Principe, which is a sort of miniature palace, built for Charles IV. when he was a boy. It is a pretty toy, containing thirty-three rooms, all of them of reduced size, and with furniture on the same scale. It contains some fine pictures and other works of art.The tourists dined, and devoted the rest of the day to wandering about in the vicinity of the village. Some of them walked up to theSilla del Rey, or king’s chair, where Philip overlooked the work on the Escurial. At five o’clock the ship’s company took the slow train, and arrived at Madrid at half-past seven, using up two hours and a half in going thirty-two miles.“I am sorry it is too dark for you to see the country,” said the doctor, after the train started.“Why, sir, is it very fine?” asked Sheridan.“On the contrary, it is, I think, the most desolateregion on the face of the globe; with hardly a village, not a tree, nothing but rocks to be seen. It reminds me of some parts of Maine and New Hampshire, where they have to sharpen the sheep’s noses to enable them to feed among the rocks. The people are miserable and half savage; and it is said that many of them are clothed in sheepskins, and live in burrows in the ground, for the want of houses; but I never saw any thing of this kind, though I know that some of the gypsys in the South dwell in caves in the sides of the hills. Agriculture is at the lowest ebb, though Spain produces vast quantities of the most excellent qualities of grain. Like a portion of our own country, the numerous valleys are very fertile, though in the summer the streams of this part of Spain are all dried up. The gypsys camp in the bed of the Manzanares, at Madrid. Alexandre Dumas and his son went to a bull-fight at the capital. The son was faint, as you may be, and a glass of water was brought to him. After taking a swallow, he handed the rest to the waiter, saying, ‘Portez cela au Manzanares: cela lui fera plaisir.’ (Carry that to the Manzanares: it will give it pleasure).”“Good for Dumas,fils!” exclaimed Murray.“There is a prejudice against trees in Spain. The peasants will not plant them, or suffer them to grow, except those that bear fruit; because they afford habitations for the birds which eat up their grain. Timber and wood for fuel are therefore very scarce and very dear in this part of the country. But this region was not always so barren and desolate as it is now. In the wars with the Moors, both armies began by cutting down the trees and burning the villages. More ofthis desolation, however, was caused by a very remarkable privilege, called themesta, granted to certain of the nobility. It gave them the right of pasturage over vast territories, including the Castiles, Estremadura, and La Mancha. It came to be a legal right, and permitted immense flocks of sheep to roam across the country twice a year, in the spring and autumn. In the time of Philip II., the wandering flocks of sheep were estimated at from seven to eight millions. They devoured every thing before them in the shape of grass and shrubs. This privilege was not abolished till 1825.”“I should think Philip and the rest of the kings who lived at the Escurial would have had a nice time in going to and from the capital,” said Sheridan. “He did not have a palace-car on the railroad in those days.”“After Philip’s day they did not live there a great deal of the time, not so much because it was inconvenient as because it was a gloomy and cheerless place. They used to make it a rule to spend six weeks of the year there; though the last of the sovereigns did not live there at all, I believe. But they had good roads and good carriages for their time. The Spaniards do not make many roads; but what they do make are first-class. I am sorry we do not go to Segovia, though there is not much there except the cathedral and the Roman aqueduct, which is a fine specimen. But you have seen plenty of these things. Six miles from Segovia is La Granja, or the Grange, which is sometimes called the palace of San Ildefonso. It is areal sitio, or royal residence, built by Philip V. It is a summerretreat, in the midst of pine forests four thousand feet above the sea-level. We went through Valladolid in the night. Columbus died there, you remember; and Philip II. was born there; but there is nothing of great interest to be seen in the city.”When the train arrived at Madrid, a lot of small omnibuses, holding about eight persons each, were waiting for the company; and they were driven to thePuerta del Sol, where the principal hotels are located. Half of the party went to theGrand Hotel de Paris, and the other half to theHotel de los Principes. Dr. Winstock and hisprotégéswere quartered at the former.On shore no distinction was made between officers and seamen, and no better rooms were given to the former than to the latter. As two students occupied one wide bed, they were allowed to pair off for this purpose. It so happened that the captain and the first lieutenant had one of the worst rooms in the house. After they had gone up two pairs of stairs, a sign on the wall informed them that they had reached the first story; and four more brought them to the seven-by-nine chamber, with a brick floor, which they were to occupy. The furniture was very meagre.In Spain hotels charge by the day, the price being regulated by the size and location of the room. Such as that we have just described was thirty-fivereales. A good sized inside room, two flights nearer the earth, was fiftyreales, with an increase of fiverealesfor an outside room looking into the street. The table was the same for all the guests. The price per day varies from thirty to sixtyrealesin Spain, forty being themost common rate at the best hotels out of Madrid. From two to fourrealesa day is charged for attendance, and one or two for candles. Two dollars a day is therefore about the average rate. Only two meals a day are served for this price,—a breakfast at ten or eleven, and dinner at six.It is the fashion in Spain, for an individual or company to conduct several hotels in different cities. The Fallola brothers run the grand Hotel de Paris in Madrid, the ones with the same name in Seville and in Cadiz, and the Hotel Suiza in Cordova; and they are the highest-priced hotels on the peninsula, and doubtless the best. The company that manages the Hotel de Los Principes in Madrid also have the Rizzi in Cordova, the Londres in Seville, the Cadiz in Cadiz, and the Siete Suelos in Granada, in which the prices are more moderate. The Hotel Washington Irving at Granada, and the Alameda in Malaga, are under the same management, and charge forty-four and fortyrealesa day respectively, besides service and lights. Though Spain is said to be an expensive country to live in, these prices in 1870 were only about half those charged in the United States.Railroad fares are about two cents and a half a mile, second class; and about a third higher, first class. A one-horse carriage for two costs forty cents an hour in Madrid; and for four persons, two horses, fifty cents. A very handsome carriage, with driver and footman in livery, may be had for five dollars a day.After supper the students walked about thePuerta del Sol, and took their first view of the capital of Spain.

CHAPTER VIII.SARAGOSSA AND BURGOS.Theship’s company of the American Prince departed from Barcelona at three o’clock in the afternoon, for Saragossa, or Zaragoza as the Spaniards spell it. At first the route was through a beautiful and highly cultivated country, and then into the mountains. By five o’clock it was too dark to see the landscape; and the students, tired after the labors of the day, were disposed to settle themselves into the easiest positions they could find, and many of them went to sleep.At Manresa the train stopped for supper, which was all ready for the students when they arrived, Mr. Lowington had employed four experienced couriers for the double tour across the peninsula. One was to precede each of the two parties to engage accommodations, and make terms with landlords, railroad agents, and others; and one was to attend each party to render such service as might be required of him. The journeys were all arranged beforehand, so that trains were to have extra cars, and meals were to be ready at stations and hotels.The train arrived at Saragossa just before four o’clock in the morning. The cars, or carriages as they are called in Europe, were precisely like those in use inEngland. Only six persons were put in each compartment; and the boys contrived various plans to obtain comfortable positions for sleeping. Some of them spread their overcoats on the floor for beds, using their bags for pillows; and others made couches on the seats. Most of them were able to sleep the greater part of the night. But theFonda del Universowas prepared for their reception, and they were glad enough to turn into the fifty beds ready for them.At nine o’clock all hands were piped to breakfast. The meal was served in courses, and was essentially French. Some of the waiters spoke French; but there was really no need of saying any thing, for each dish of the bill of fare was presented to every person at the table. After the meal, the students were assembled in the large reading-room,—the hotel had been recently built,—and Professor Mapps was called upon by the principal to say something about Saragossa, in order that the tourists might know a little of the history of the place they were visiting. The instructor took a convenient position, and began his remarks:—“The old monks used to write history something after the manner of the Knickerbocker’s History of New York; and they put it on record that Saragossa was founded by Tubal, nephew of Noah; but you will not believe this. The city probably originated with the Phoenicians, and was a place of great importance in the time of Julius Cæsar, who saw its military value as commanding the passage of the Ebro, and built a wall around it. It was captured by the Suevi in 452, and taken from them by the Goths fourteen years later. Inthe eighth century the Moors obtained possession of the city, and held it till the twelfth, when it was conquered by Alfonso of Aragon. It contains many relics of the Roman and Moorish works.“Saragossa has been the scene of several noted sieges, the most famous of which was that of 1808, when the French captured the place after the most desperate resistance on the part of the Aragonese. The brave defenders of the city had no regular military organization, and were ill-provided with arms and ammunition. The people chose for a leader a young man whose name was Palafox: he was as brave as a lion, but not versed in military science. The siege lasted sixty-two days, and the fighting was almost incessant. It was ‘war to the knife’ on the part of the Aragonese, and they rejected all overtures to surrender. Famine made fearful havoc among them, and every house was a hospital. Even the priests and the women joined in the strife. I dare say you have all heard of the ‘Maid of Saragossa,’ who is represented in pictures as a young woman assisting in working a gun in the battle. Her name was Augustina; and she was a very pretty girl of twenty-two. Her lover was a cannonneer, and she fought by his side. When he was mortally wounded, she worked the gun herself. You will find something about her in ‘Childe Harold.’“At length the French got into the town; but the conflict was not finished, for the people fought for twenty-one days more in the streets. Fifteen thousand were either dead or dying when the French entered the city. At last the authorities agreed to surrender, but only on the most honorable terms. It has been estimated,that, out of a population of one hundred and fifty thousand, fifty-four thousand perished in battle or by famine and pestilence.”After these brief remarks, the party separated, and divided up into small squads to see the city as they pleased. As usual, Captain Sheridan and Murray joined themselves to Dr. Winstock, who was as much at home in Saragossa as he was in Paris.“You will find that this city is thoroughly Spanish; and doubtless you will see some of the native costumes,” said the doctor, as they left the hotel.“But this hotel is as much French as though it were in France,” added Murray, who desired when in Spain to do as the Spaniards did, so as to learn what they do.“That is very true; but we shall come to the true Spanish hotel in due time, and I have no doubt you will get enough of it in a very short time,” laughed Dr. Winstock. “There are three classes of hotels in Spain, though at the present time they are all about the same thing. Afondais a regular hotel; aposadais the tavern of the smaller country towns; and aventais a still lower grade of inn. A drinking-shop, which we sometimes call a ‘saloon’ in the United States, is aventorroor aventorillo; and atabernais a place where smoking and wine-drinking are the business of their frequenters. Aparadoris a hotel where the diligences stop for meals, and may also be afonda.”“Afondais a hotel,” said Sheridan; “and we may not be able to remember any more than that.”“When you see the names I have given you on the signs, you will understand what they mean. But ourbusiness now is to see this city. Like Barcelona, it has one principal wide street extending through the middle of it: all the other avenues are nothing more than lanes, very narrow and very dirty. It is on the Ebro, and has a population of some eighty thousand people.”“How happens it that this place is not colder? It is in about the same latitude as New York City; and now, in the month of December, it is comfortably warm,” said Sheridan.“These valleys have a mild climate; and the vine and olive are their principal productions. It is not so on the high table-land in the centre of Spain. At Madrid, for instance, the weather will be found to be quite cold at this time. The weather is so bitter there sometimes that the sentinels on guard have to be changed every quarter of an hour, as they are in danger of being frozen to death.”The party walked first to the great square, in the centre of which is a public fountain. They paused to look at the people. Most of the men wore some kind of a mantle or cloak. This garment was sometimes the Spanish circular cloak, worn with a style and grace that the Spaniard alone can attain. That of the poorer class was often nothing but a striped blanket, which, however, they slung about them with no little of the air of those who wore better garments. They were generally tall, muscular, but rather bony fellows, with an expression as solemn as though they were doing duty at a funeral. Some of them wore the broad-brimmedsombrero; some had handkerchiefs wound around their heads, like turbans; and others sported the ordinary hat or cap.The party could not help laughing when they saw, for the first time, a priest wearing a hat which extended fore and aft at least three feet, with the sides rolled up close to the body. Everybody was dignified, and moved about at a funeral pace.At the fountain women and girls were filling the jars of odd shape with water, and bearing them away poised on one of their hips or on the head. Several donkeys were standing near, upon which their owners were loading the sacks of water they had filled.“Bags of water!” exclaimed Murray.“They do not call them bags, but skins,” said the doctor. “You can see the legs and neck of the animal, which are very convenient in handling them. These skins are more easily transported on the backs of the donkeys than barrels, kegs, or jars could be. Many kinds of wine are transported in these skins, which could hardly be carried on the back of an animal in any other way. Except a few great highways, Spain is not provided with roads. In some places, when you ride in a carriage, you will take to the open fields; and very rough indeed they are sometimes.”The party proceeded on their walk, and soon reached the Cathedral of San Salvador, generally calledEl Seo; a term as applicable to any other cathedral in Aragon as to this one. It is a sombre old structure: a part of it is said to have been built in the year 290; and pious people have been building it till within three hundred and fifty years of the present time. There are some grand monuments in it; among them that of Arbues, who was assassinated for carrying out the decrees of the Inquisition. The people of Aragon did not takekindly to this institution; but the murder was terribly avenged, and the Inquisition established its authority in the midst of the tumult it had excited. Murillo, the great Spanish painter, made the assassination of Arbues the subject of one of his principal pictures.Saragossa has two cathedrals, the second of which is calledEl Pilar, because it contains the very pillar on which the Virgin landed when she came down from heaven in one of her visits to Spain. It appears that St. James—Santiago in Spanish—came to Spain after the crucifixion of the Saviour, in the year 40, to preach the gospel to the natives. When he had got as far as Saragossa, he was naturally tired, and went to sleep. In this state the Virgin came to him with a message from the Saviour, requiring him to build a chapel in honor of herself. She stood on a jasper pillar, and was attended by a multitude of angels. St. James obeyed the command of the heavenly visitor, and erected a small chapel, only sixteen feet long and half as wide, where the Virgin often attended public worship in subsequent years. On this spot, and over the original chapel, was built the present church. On the pillar stands a dingy image of the Virgin, which is said to be from the studio of St. Luke, who appears to have been both a painter and a sculptor. It is clothed in the richest velvet, brocade, and satin, and is spangled with gold and diamonds. It cures all diseases to which flesh is heir; for which the grateful persons thus healed have bestowed the most costly presents. It is little less than sacrilege to express any disbelief in this story of the Virgin, or in the miracles achieved by the image.Dr. Winstock and his young companions went from the churches, to take a walk in the older part of the city. The narrow streets reminded them of Constantinople, while many of the buildings were similar, the upper part projecting out over the street. The balconies were shaded with mats, like the parti-colored draperies that hang from the windows in Naples. Many of the houses were of the Moorish fashion, with thepatio, or court-yard, in the centre, with galleries around it, from which admission to the various apartments is obtained. Saragossa has a leaning tower built of brick, which was the campanile, or belfry, of the town.The party of the surgeon spent the rest of the day in a walk through the surrounding country, crossing the Ebro to the suburb of the city. Near the bridge they met a couple of ladies who wore the mantilla, a kind of veil worn as a head-dress, instead of the bonnet, which is a part of the national costume of Spain. All over Spain this fashion prevails, though of course the modes of Paris are adopted by the most fashionable ladies of the capital and other cities.At four o’clock the ship’s company dined at the hotel, and then wandered about the city at will till dark. They were advised to retire at an early hour, and most of them did so. They were called at half-past four in the morning, and at six were on the train. At half-past eight they were at Tudela, the head of navigation on the Ebro. At quarter past one they were at Miranda, on the line from Bayonne to Madrid, where dinner was waiting for them. This meal was decidedly Spanish, though it was served in courses. The soup was odorousof garlic, which is the especial vice of Spanish cookery to those who have an aversion to it. Then came the national dish, theolla podrida, a kind of stew made of every kind of meat and every kind of vegetable, not omitting a profusion of garlic. Some of the students declared that it was “first-rate.” A few did not like it at all, and more were willing to tolerate it. We do not consider it “bad to take.” The next dish was calves’ brains fried in batter, which is not national, but is oftener had at the hotels thanolla podrida. The next course was mutton chops, followed by roast chicken, with a salad. The dessert was fruit and raisins. On the table was plenty ofVal de Peñaswine, which the students were forbidden to taste.At half-past two the tourists departed, and at twenty minutes to six arrived in the darkness at Burgos. The port watch went to theFonda del Norte, and the starboard to theFonda Rafaela. The doctor and the captain were at the latter, and it was more like the inns of Don Quixote’s time than any that Sheridan had seen. It had no public room except thecomedor, or dining-room. The hotel seemed to be a number of buildings thrown together around a court-yard, on one side of which was the stable. Sheridan and Murray were shown to a room with six other students, but the apartment contained four beds. It was large enough for four more, being not less than thirty feet long, and half as wide. It was comfortably furnished, and every thing about it was clean and neat. The establishment was not unlike an old-fashioned country tavern in New England.Dinner, or, as the students called it, supper, was served at six o’clock. The meal was Spanish, beingabout the same as the one they had taken at Miranda. Instead of theolla podridawas a kind of stew, which in the days of Gil Blas would have been called aragout.“This isn’t a bad dinner,” said Murray, when they had finished the third course.“It is a very good one, I think,” replied Sheridan.“I have been reading books of travel in Spain for the last two weeks, most of them written by Englishmen; and I had come to the conclusion that we should be starved to death if we left the ship for more than a day or two. The writers found a great deal of fault with their food, and growled about garlic. I rather like garlic.”“The doctor says the English are very much given to grumbling about every thing,” added Sheridan. “I don’t think we shall starve if we are fed as well as we have been so far.”“Our room is as good as we have found in most of the hotels in other countries. So far, the trains on the railroads have been on time instead of an hour late, as one writer declared they always were.”“If one insists upon growling, it is easy enough to find something to growl at.”In the evening some of the party strolled about town, but it was as quiet as a tomb; for the rule in Spain is, “Early to bed, and late to rise.” But the students were out of bed in good time in the morning, and taking a view of the city. They found a very pretty promenade along the little river Arlanzon, whose waters find their way into the Duero; and at a considerable distance from it obtained a fine view of the greatcathedral. It is impossible to obtain any just view of it, except at a distance, on account of the mass of buildings which are huddled around it, and close to it. But the vast church towers above them all, and presents to the eye a forest of spires great and small. Near the river, in an irregularplaza, is an old gateway, which is quite picturesque. The structure looks like a castle, with round towers at the corners, and circular turrets. On the front are a number of figures carved in stone.Breakfast was served at half-past ten, and dinner at six, at theFonda; but special tables were set for the students at more convenient hours. A Spanish meal could not be agreeable to nice and refined American people. The men often sit with their hats on, and between the courses smoke a cigarette, orcigarilloin Spanish. They converse in an energetic tone, but are polite if addressed, though they mind their own business severely, and seem to be devoid of curiosity—or at least are too dignified to stare—in regard to strangers. The food is very odorous of onions and garlic, and in the smaller inns consists largely of stews or ragouts, generally of mutton or kidneys. New cheese, not pressed, is sometimes an item of the bill of fare.Val de Pañaswine is furnished free all over Spain at thetable d’hote; but it always tastes of the skins in which it is transported, and most Americans who partake of it think it is poor stuff. Great quantities of it are exported to Bordeaux, where it is manufactured into claret.After breakfast, the students were assembled to enable Professor Mapps to tell them something about the history of the city, to which he added a very full accountof the Cid. Of his remarks we can give only an abstract.Burgos is one of the most famous cities of Castile, of which it was at one time the capital. The name comes from the same word as “Burg,” and means a fortified eminence; and such it is, being on the watershed between the basins of the Ebro and the Duero. It was founded in 884 by a Castilian knight. It was the birthplace of Ferdinand Gonzales, who first took the title of Count of Castile, shook off the yoke of Leon, and established the kingdom of Castile. The city is on the direct line to Madrid from Paris. The French captured the place in 1808; and it was twice besieged and taken by the Duke of Wellington in the peninsular war.The Cid is the popular hero of Spain, and especially of the people of Burgos. He was the King Arthur of Spain, and there is about as much romance in his history as in that of the British demigod. The Cid Campeador, “knight champion,” was born about 1040, and died when he was not much over fifty. His name was Rodrigo Ruy Diaz; and his marvellous exploits are set forth in the “Poem of the Cid,” believed to have been written in the twelfth century. It is the oldest poem in the Spanish language. His first great deed was to meet the Count Gomez, who had grossly insulted the Cid’s aged father, in a fair fight in the field, and utterly vanquish him, cutting off his head. The old man was unable to eat from brooding over his wrong; but, when Ruy appeared with the head of the slain count, his appetite was restored. By some he is said to have married Ximena, the daughter of his deadadversary. Great was the fame of the Cid’s prowess after this exploit. Shortly after this event, five Moorish kings, with a powerful force, entered Castile; and the Cid roused the country to oppose their progress, and fell upon the enemy, routing the five kings with great slaughter, and making all of them his prisoners. Then he fought for King Ferdinand against the Aragonese, and won all that was in dispute. When France demanded the homage of his king, he entered that country, and won a victory which settled the question of homage for all time. After this event he did considerable domestic fighting when Castile was divided among the sons of the dead sovereign; and was finally banished by the new king. He departed with his knights and men-at-arms, and took up a strong position in the territory of the Moors, where he made war, right and left, with all the kingdoms of the peninsula except his own country, which he had the grace to except in his conquests. He took Valencia, where he seems to have established himself. His last exploit in the flesh was the capture of Murviedro. Then he died, and was buried in Valencia.Now that the Cid, who had been the scourge of the Moors, was dead, the Christians could no longer hold out against the infidels, and were in danger of losing what they had gained. In this emergency they clothed the corpse of the dead hero in armor, and fastened it on his war-steed, placing his famous sword in his hand. Thus equipped for battle, the dead Cid was led into the field in the midst of the soldiers. The very sight of him struck terror to the hearts of the Moslems, and the defunct warrior won yet another battle. He wasmarched through the land, the enemy fleeing before him in every direction, to Burgos. He seems not to have been buried when he got there, but was embalmed and placed in a chair of state, where he went into the business of working miracles. His long white beard fell upon his breast, his sword was at his side, and he seemed to be alive rather than dead. One day a Jew, out of bravado, attempted to take hold of his venerable beard, when the Cid began to draw his sword, whereat the Jew was so frightened that he fainted away. When he recovered he at once became a Christian. The Cid was a fiery man, and did not hesitate to slap the face of a king or the pope, if he was angry. Even after he was dead, and sitting in his chair, he sometimes lost his temper; and Ximine found it expedient to bury him, in order to keep him out of trouble.The students went to the cathedral first. It is a vast pile of buildings, and is considered one of the finest churches in Europe. There is an immense amount of fine and delicate work about it, which cannot be described. The dome is so beautiful that Philip II. said it was the work of angels rather than men. The choir is quite a lofty enclosure, which obstructs the view from the pavement. The archbishop’s palace, and the cloister, on one side, seem to be a part of the church. It contains, as usual, a great many chapels, each of which has its own treasures of art or antiquity. In one of them is the famous Christ of Burgos, which is said to have been made by Nicodemus after he and Joseph of Arimathea had buried the Saviour. As usual, it was found in a box floating in the sea. The hair, beard, eyelashes, and the thorns, are allreal; and a French writer says the skin of the figure is human. The image works miracles without number, sweats on Friday, and even bleeds at times; and is held in the highest veneration by the people.In another chapel is the coffer of the Cid, an old worm-eaten chest bound with iron. When the champion was banished by the king, as he wanted to go off with flying colors, and was in need of a large sum of money, he filled this chest with sand and stones, and, without allowing them to look into it, assured a couple of rich Jews that it was full of gold and jewels. They took his word for it (strange as such a transaction would be in modern times), and loaned the money he needed. When he had captured Valencia, he paid the loan, and exposed the cheat he had put upon them. Of course they were willing to forgive him after he had paid the money.The next point of interest with the students was the town hall, where they were permitted to look upon the bones of the Cid and his wife, which are kept in a box, with a wire screen over them to prevent any heathen from stealing them. The bones are all mixed up, and no one can tell which belong to the Cid and which to his wife.At noon Dr. Winstock procured an antiquated carriage at the hotel stable, and took Sheridan and Murray out into the country. After a ride of a couple of miles they reached Miraflores, which is a convent founded by John II., and finished by Isabella I. Its church contains the royal tomb in which John II. is buried, and is one of the finest things of the kind in the world, the sculpture being of the most delicate character. Several other Castilian kings are buried in this place.The little party took the carriage again, intending to visit the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña. There was no road, only an ill-defined track across the fields; and very rough fields they were, covered with rocks so thick that the vehicle often had to pass over many of them. The passengers were terribly shaken up. On the way they occasionally met a peasant riding on or leading a mule or donkey loaded with various commodities carried in panniers. They were interesting as a study.San Pedro is nothing but a ruin. It was established in the fifth century; and in the ninth the Moors destroyed the edifice, and killed two hundred monks who lived in it. It was rebuilt; and, being the favorite convent of the Cid, he requested that he might be buried in it. The monument is in a side chapel, and looks as though it had been whitewashed at no very remote period. The doctor read the inscription on the empty tomb. A dirty peasant who joined the party as soon as they got out the carriage followed them at every step, almost looking into their mouths when they spoke.When the party started to return, things began to be very lively with them. First Sheridan rubbed his legs; then Murray did so; and before long the doctor joined in the recreation.“What’s the matter?” asked the surgeon, laughing.“I don’t know; but my legs feel as though I had an attack of the seven-years’ itch,” replied the captain with a vigorous attempt to reach and conquer the difficulty.“That’s just my case,” added Murray, with an equally violent demonstration.“I don’t understand it,” continued the captain.“I do,” answered the surgeon, vigorously rubbing one of his legs.“What is it?” asked Sheridan, suspecting that they all had some strange disease.“Cosas de España,” laughed the doctor.“But that is Spanish; and I don’t understand the lingo.”“Acosa de Españais a ‘thing of Spain;’ fleas are things of Spain; and that is what is the matter with you and me. The lining of this carriage has been repaired by covering it in part with cloth with a long nap, which is alive with fleas.”“The wicked flea!” exclaimed Murray.“He goeth about in Spain, seeking whom he may devour,” added the doctor.When they reached the hotel, supper was ready; but they did not want any just then, for no one feels hungry while a myriad of fleas are picking his bones. Garments were taken off, and brushed on the inside; the skin was washed with cologne-water; and the party were happy till they took in a new supply.At about eleven at night, the ship’s company took the train south, and at quarter past eight the next morning were atEl Escorial.

SARAGOSSA AND BURGOS.

Theship’s company of the American Prince departed from Barcelona at three o’clock in the afternoon, for Saragossa, or Zaragoza as the Spaniards spell it. At first the route was through a beautiful and highly cultivated country, and then into the mountains. By five o’clock it was too dark to see the landscape; and the students, tired after the labors of the day, were disposed to settle themselves into the easiest positions they could find, and many of them went to sleep.

At Manresa the train stopped for supper, which was all ready for the students when they arrived, Mr. Lowington had employed four experienced couriers for the double tour across the peninsula. One was to precede each of the two parties to engage accommodations, and make terms with landlords, railroad agents, and others; and one was to attend each party to render such service as might be required of him. The journeys were all arranged beforehand, so that trains were to have extra cars, and meals were to be ready at stations and hotels.

The train arrived at Saragossa just before four o’clock in the morning. The cars, or carriages as they are called in Europe, were precisely like those in use inEngland. Only six persons were put in each compartment; and the boys contrived various plans to obtain comfortable positions for sleeping. Some of them spread their overcoats on the floor for beds, using their bags for pillows; and others made couches on the seats. Most of them were able to sleep the greater part of the night. But theFonda del Universowas prepared for their reception, and they were glad enough to turn into the fifty beds ready for them.

At nine o’clock all hands were piped to breakfast. The meal was served in courses, and was essentially French. Some of the waiters spoke French; but there was really no need of saying any thing, for each dish of the bill of fare was presented to every person at the table. After the meal, the students were assembled in the large reading-room,—the hotel had been recently built,—and Professor Mapps was called upon by the principal to say something about Saragossa, in order that the tourists might know a little of the history of the place they were visiting. The instructor took a convenient position, and began his remarks:—

“The old monks used to write history something after the manner of the Knickerbocker’s History of New York; and they put it on record that Saragossa was founded by Tubal, nephew of Noah; but you will not believe this. The city probably originated with the Phoenicians, and was a place of great importance in the time of Julius Cæsar, who saw its military value as commanding the passage of the Ebro, and built a wall around it. It was captured by the Suevi in 452, and taken from them by the Goths fourteen years later. Inthe eighth century the Moors obtained possession of the city, and held it till the twelfth, when it was conquered by Alfonso of Aragon. It contains many relics of the Roman and Moorish works.

“Saragossa has been the scene of several noted sieges, the most famous of which was that of 1808, when the French captured the place after the most desperate resistance on the part of the Aragonese. The brave defenders of the city had no regular military organization, and were ill-provided with arms and ammunition. The people chose for a leader a young man whose name was Palafox: he was as brave as a lion, but not versed in military science. The siege lasted sixty-two days, and the fighting was almost incessant. It was ‘war to the knife’ on the part of the Aragonese, and they rejected all overtures to surrender. Famine made fearful havoc among them, and every house was a hospital. Even the priests and the women joined in the strife. I dare say you have all heard of the ‘Maid of Saragossa,’ who is represented in pictures as a young woman assisting in working a gun in the battle. Her name was Augustina; and she was a very pretty girl of twenty-two. Her lover was a cannonneer, and she fought by his side. When he was mortally wounded, she worked the gun herself. You will find something about her in ‘Childe Harold.’

“At length the French got into the town; but the conflict was not finished, for the people fought for twenty-one days more in the streets. Fifteen thousand were either dead or dying when the French entered the city. At last the authorities agreed to surrender, but only on the most honorable terms. It has been estimated,that, out of a population of one hundred and fifty thousand, fifty-four thousand perished in battle or by famine and pestilence.”

After these brief remarks, the party separated, and divided up into small squads to see the city as they pleased. As usual, Captain Sheridan and Murray joined themselves to Dr. Winstock, who was as much at home in Saragossa as he was in Paris.

“You will find that this city is thoroughly Spanish; and doubtless you will see some of the native costumes,” said the doctor, as they left the hotel.

“But this hotel is as much French as though it were in France,” added Murray, who desired when in Spain to do as the Spaniards did, so as to learn what they do.

“That is very true; but we shall come to the true Spanish hotel in due time, and I have no doubt you will get enough of it in a very short time,” laughed Dr. Winstock. “There are three classes of hotels in Spain, though at the present time they are all about the same thing. Afondais a regular hotel; aposadais the tavern of the smaller country towns; and aventais a still lower grade of inn. A drinking-shop, which we sometimes call a ‘saloon’ in the United States, is aventorroor aventorillo; and atabernais a place where smoking and wine-drinking are the business of their frequenters. Aparadoris a hotel where the diligences stop for meals, and may also be afonda.”

“Afondais a hotel,” said Sheridan; “and we may not be able to remember any more than that.”

“When you see the names I have given you on the signs, you will understand what they mean. But ourbusiness now is to see this city. Like Barcelona, it has one principal wide street extending through the middle of it: all the other avenues are nothing more than lanes, very narrow and very dirty. It is on the Ebro, and has a population of some eighty thousand people.”

“How happens it that this place is not colder? It is in about the same latitude as New York City; and now, in the month of December, it is comfortably warm,” said Sheridan.

“These valleys have a mild climate; and the vine and olive are their principal productions. It is not so on the high table-land in the centre of Spain. At Madrid, for instance, the weather will be found to be quite cold at this time. The weather is so bitter there sometimes that the sentinels on guard have to be changed every quarter of an hour, as they are in danger of being frozen to death.”

The party walked first to the great square, in the centre of which is a public fountain. They paused to look at the people. Most of the men wore some kind of a mantle or cloak. This garment was sometimes the Spanish circular cloak, worn with a style and grace that the Spaniard alone can attain. That of the poorer class was often nothing but a striped blanket, which, however, they slung about them with no little of the air of those who wore better garments. They were generally tall, muscular, but rather bony fellows, with an expression as solemn as though they were doing duty at a funeral. Some of them wore the broad-brimmedsombrero; some had handkerchiefs wound around their heads, like turbans; and others sported the ordinary hat or cap.

The party could not help laughing when they saw, for the first time, a priest wearing a hat which extended fore and aft at least three feet, with the sides rolled up close to the body. Everybody was dignified, and moved about at a funeral pace.

At the fountain women and girls were filling the jars of odd shape with water, and bearing them away poised on one of their hips or on the head. Several donkeys were standing near, upon which their owners were loading the sacks of water they had filled.

“Bags of water!” exclaimed Murray.

“They do not call them bags, but skins,” said the doctor. “You can see the legs and neck of the animal, which are very convenient in handling them. These skins are more easily transported on the backs of the donkeys than barrels, kegs, or jars could be. Many kinds of wine are transported in these skins, which could hardly be carried on the back of an animal in any other way. Except a few great highways, Spain is not provided with roads. In some places, when you ride in a carriage, you will take to the open fields; and very rough indeed they are sometimes.”

The party proceeded on their walk, and soon reached the Cathedral of San Salvador, generally calledEl Seo; a term as applicable to any other cathedral in Aragon as to this one. It is a sombre old structure: a part of it is said to have been built in the year 290; and pious people have been building it till within three hundred and fifty years of the present time. There are some grand monuments in it; among them that of Arbues, who was assassinated for carrying out the decrees of the Inquisition. The people of Aragon did not takekindly to this institution; but the murder was terribly avenged, and the Inquisition established its authority in the midst of the tumult it had excited. Murillo, the great Spanish painter, made the assassination of Arbues the subject of one of his principal pictures.

Saragossa has two cathedrals, the second of which is calledEl Pilar, because it contains the very pillar on which the Virgin landed when she came down from heaven in one of her visits to Spain. It appears that St. James—Santiago in Spanish—came to Spain after the crucifixion of the Saviour, in the year 40, to preach the gospel to the natives. When he had got as far as Saragossa, he was naturally tired, and went to sleep. In this state the Virgin came to him with a message from the Saviour, requiring him to build a chapel in honor of herself. She stood on a jasper pillar, and was attended by a multitude of angels. St. James obeyed the command of the heavenly visitor, and erected a small chapel, only sixteen feet long and half as wide, where the Virgin often attended public worship in subsequent years. On this spot, and over the original chapel, was built the present church. On the pillar stands a dingy image of the Virgin, which is said to be from the studio of St. Luke, who appears to have been both a painter and a sculptor. It is clothed in the richest velvet, brocade, and satin, and is spangled with gold and diamonds. It cures all diseases to which flesh is heir; for which the grateful persons thus healed have bestowed the most costly presents. It is little less than sacrilege to express any disbelief in this story of the Virgin, or in the miracles achieved by the image.

Dr. Winstock and his young companions went from the churches, to take a walk in the older part of the city. The narrow streets reminded them of Constantinople, while many of the buildings were similar, the upper part projecting out over the street. The balconies were shaded with mats, like the parti-colored draperies that hang from the windows in Naples. Many of the houses were of the Moorish fashion, with thepatio, or court-yard, in the centre, with galleries around it, from which admission to the various apartments is obtained. Saragossa has a leaning tower built of brick, which was the campanile, or belfry, of the town.

The party of the surgeon spent the rest of the day in a walk through the surrounding country, crossing the Ebro to the suburb of the city. Near the bridge they met a couple of ladies who wore the mantilla, a kind of veil worn as a head-dress, instead of the bonnet, which is a part of the national costume of Spain. All over Spain this fashion prevails, though of course the modes of Paris are adopted by the most fashionable ladies of the capital and other cities.

At four o’clock the ship’s company dined at the hotel, and then wandered about the city at will till dark. They were advised to retire at an early hour, and most of them did so. They were called at half-past four in the morning, and at six were on the train. At half-past eight they were at Tudela, the head of navigation on the Ebro. At quarter past one they were at Miranda, on the line from Bayonne to Madrid, where dinner was waiting for them. This meal was decidedly Spanish, though it was served in courses. The soup was odorousof garlic, which is the especial vice of Spanish cookery to those who have an aversion to it. Then came the national dish, theolla podrida, a kind of stew made of every kind of meat and every kind of vegetable, not omitting a profusion of garlic. Some of the students declared that it was “first-rate.” A few did not like it at all, and more were willing to tolerate it. We do not consider it “bad to take.” The next dish was calves’ brains fried in batter, which is not national, but is oftener had at the hotels thanolla podrida. The next course was mutton chops, followed by roast chicken, with a salad. The dessert was fruit and raisins. On the table was plenty ofVal de Peñaswine, which the students were forbidden to taste.

At half-past two the tourists departed, and at twenty minutes to six arrived in the darkness at Burgos. The port watch went to theFonda del Norte, and the starboard to theFonda Rafaela. The doctor and the captain were at the latter, and it was more like the inns of Don Quixote’s time than any that Sheridan had seen. It had no public room except thecomedor, or dining-room. The hotel seemed to be a number of buildings thrown together around a court-yard, on one side of which was the stable. Sheridan and Murray were shown to a room with six other students, but the apartment contained four beds. It was large enough for four more, being not less than thirty feet long, and half as wide. It was comfortably furnished, and every thing about it was clean and neat. The establishment was not unlike an old-fashioned country tavern in New England.

Dinner, or, as the students called it, supper, was served at six o’clock. The meal was Spanish, beingabout the same as the one they had taken at Miranda. Instead of theolla podridawas a kind of stew, which in the days of Gil Blas would have been called aragout.

“This isn’t a bad dinner,” said Murray, when they had finished the third course.

“It is a very good one, I think,” replied Sheridan.

“I have been reading books of travel in Spain for the last two weeks, most of them written by Englishmen; and I had come to the conclusion that we should be starved to death if we left the ship for more than a day or two. The writers found a great deal of fault with their food, and growled about garlic. I rather like garlic.”

“The doctor says the English are very much given to grumbling about every thing,” added Sheridan. “I don’t think we shall starve if we are fed as well as we have been so far.”

“Our room is as good as we have found in most of the hotels in other countries. So far, the trains on the railroads have been on time instead of an hour late, as one writer declared they always were.”

“If one insists upon growling, it is easy enough to find something to growl at.”

In the evening some of the party strolled about town, but it was as quiet as a tomb; for the rule in Spain is, “Early to bed, and late to rise.” But the students were out of bed in good time in the morning, and taking a view of the city. They found a very pretty promenade along the little river Arlanzon, whose waters find their way into the Duero; and at a considerable distance from it obtained a fine view of the greatcathedral. It is impossible to obtain any just view of it, except at a distance, on account of the mass of buildings which are huddled around it, and close to it. But the vast church towers above them all, and presents to the eye a forest of spires great and small. Near the river, in an irregularplaza, is an old gateway, which is quite picturesque. The structure looks like a castle, with round towers at the corners, and circular turrets. On the front are a number of figures carved in stone.

Breakfast was served at half-past ten, and dinner at six, at theFonda; but special tables were set for the students at more convenient hours. A Spanish meal could not be agreeable to nice and refined American people. The men often sit with their hats on, and between the courses smoke a cigarette, orcigarilloin Spanish. They converse in an energetic tone, but are polite if addressed, though they mind their own business severely, and seem to be devoid of curiosity—or at least are too dignified to stare—in regard to strangers. The food is very odorous of onions and garlic, and in the smaller inns consists largely of stews or ragouts, generally of mutton or kidneys. New cheese, not pressed, is sometimes an item of the bill of fare.Val de Pañaswine is furnished free all over Spain at thetable d’hote; but it always tastes of the skins in which it is transported, and most Americans who partake of it think it is poor stuff. Great quantities of it are exported to Bordeaux, where it is manufactured into claret.

After breakfast, the students were assembled to enable Professor Mapps to tell them something about the history of the city, to which he added a very full accountof the Cid. Of his remarks we can give only an abstract.

Burgos is one of the most famous cities of Castile, of which it was at one time the capital. The name comes from the same word as “Burg,” and means a fortified eminence; and such it is, being on the watershed between the basins of the Ebro and the Duero. It was founded in 884 by a Castilian knight. It was the birthplace of Ferdinand Gonzales, who first took the title of Count of Castile, shook off the yoke of Leon, and established the kingdom of Castile. The city is on the direct line to Madrid from Paris. The French captured the place in 1808; and it was twice besieged and taken by the Duke of Wellington in the peninsular war.

The Cid is the popular hero of Spain, and especially of the people of Burgos. He was the King Arthur of Spain, and there is about as much romance in his history as in that of the British demigod. The Cid Campeador, “knight champion,” was born about 1040, and died when he was not much over fifty. His name was Rodrigo Ruy Diaz; and his marvellous exploits are set forth in the “Poem of the Cid,” believed to have been written in the twelfth century. It is the oldest poem in the Spanish language. His first great deed was to meet the Count Gomez, who had grossly insulted the Cid’s aged father, in a fair fight in the field, and utterly vanquish him, cutting off his head. The old man was unable to eat from brooding over his wrong; but, when Ruy appeared with the head of the slain count, his appetite was restored. By some he is said to have married Ximena, the daughter of his deadadversary. Great was the fame of the Cid’s prowess after this exploit. Shortly after this event, five Moorish kings, with a powerful force, entered Castile; and the Cid roused the country to oppose their progress, and fell upon the enemy, routing the five kings with great slaughter, and making all of them his prisoners. Then he fought for King Ferdinand against the Aragonese, and won all that was in dispute. When France demanded the homage of his king, he entered that country, and won a victory which settled the question of homage for all time. After this event he did considerable domestic fighting when Castile was divided among the sons of the dead sovereign; and was finally banished by the new king. He departed with his knights and men-at-arms, and took up a strong position in the territory of the Moors, where he made war, right and left, with all the kingdoms of the peninsula except his own country, which he had the grace to except in his conquests. He took Valencia, where he seems to have established himself. His last exploit in the flesh was the capture of Murviedro. Then he died, and was buried in Valencia.

Now that the Cid, who had been the scourge of the Moors, was dead, the Christians could no longer hold out against the infidels, and were in danger of losing what they had gained. In this emergency they clothed the corpse of the dead hero in armor, and fastened it on his war-steed, placing his famous sword in his hand. Thus equipped for battle, the dead Cid was led into the field in the midst of the soldiers. The very sight of him struck terror to the hearts of the Moslems, and the defunct warrior won yet another battle. He wasmarched through the land, the enemy fleeing before him in every direction, to Burgos. He seems not to have been buried when he got there, but was embalmed and placed in a chair of state, where he went into the business of working miracles. His long white beard fell upon his breast, his sword was at his side, and he seemed to be alive rather than dead. One day a Jew, out of bravado, attempted to take hold of his venerable beard, when the Cid began to draw his sword, whereat the Jew was so frightened that he fainted away. When he recovered he at once became a Christian. The Cid was a fiery man, and did not hesitate to slap the face of a king or the pope, if he was angry. Even after he was dead, and sitting in his chair, he sometimes lost his temper; and Ximine found it expedient to bury him, in order to keep him out of trouble.

The students went to the cathedral first. It is a vast pile of buildings, and is considered one of the finest churches in Europe. There is an immense amount of fine and delicate work about it, which cannot be described. The dome is so beautiful that Philip II. said it was the work of angels rather than men. The choir is quite a lofty enclosure, which obstructs the view from the pavement. The archbishop’s palace, and the cloister, on one side, seem to be a part of the church. It contains, as usual, a great many chapels, each of which has its own treasures of art or antiquity. In one of them is the famous Christ of Burgos, which is said to have been made by Nicodemus after he and Joseph of Arimathea had buried the Saviour. As usual, it was found in a box floating in the sea. The hair, beard, eyelashes, and the thorns, are allreal; and a French writer says the skin of the figure is human. The image works miracles without number, sweats on Friday, and even bleeds at times; and is held in the highest veneration by the people.

In another chapel is the coffer of the Cid, an old worm-eaten chest bound with iron. When the champion was banished by the king, as he wanted to go off with flying colors, and was in need of a large sum of money, he filled this chest with sand and stones, and, without allowing them to look into it, assured a couple of rich Jews that it was full of gold and jewels. They took his word for it (strange as such a transaction would be in modern times), and loaned the money he needed. When he had captured Valencia, he paid the loan, and exposed the cheat he had put upon them. Of course they were willing to forgive him after he had paid the money.

The next point of interest with the students was the town hall, where they were permitted to look upon the bones of the Cid and his wife, which are kept in a box, with a wire screen over them to prevent any heathen from stealing them. The bones are all mixed up, and no one can tell which belong to the Cid and which to his wife.

At noon Dr. Winstock procured an antiquated carriage at the hotel stable, and took Sheridan and Murray out into the country. After a ride of a couple of miles they reached Miraflores, which is a convent founded by John II., and finished by Isabella I. Its church contains the royal tomb in which John II. is buried, and is one of the finest things of the kind in the world, the sculpture being of the most delicate character. Several other Castilian kings are buried in this place.

The little party took the carriage again, intending to visit the Monastery of San Pedro de Cardeña. There was no road, only an ill-defined track across the fields; and very rough fields they were, covered with rocks so thick that the vehicle often had to pass over many of them. The passengers were terribly shaken up. On the way they occasionally met a peasant riding on or leading a mule or donkey loaded with various commodities carried in panniers. They were interesting as a study.

San Pedro is nothing but a ruin. It was established in the fifth century; and in the ninth the Moors destroyed the edifice, and killed two hundred monks who lived in it. It was rebuilt; and, being the favorite convent of the Cid, he requested that he might be buried in it. The monument is in a side chapel, and looks as though it had been whitewashed at no very remote period. The doctor read the inscription on the empty tomb. A dirty peasant who joined the party as soon as they got out the carriage followed them at every step, almost looking into their mouths when they spoke.

When the party started to return, things began to be very lively with them. First Sheridan rubbed his legs; then Murray did so; and before long the doctor joined in the recreation.

“What’s the matter?” asked the surgeon, laughing.

“I don’t know; but my legs feel as though I had an attack of the seven-years’ itch,” replied the captain with a vigorous attempt to reach and conquer the difficulty.

“That’s just my case,” added Murray, with an equally violent demonstration.

“I don’t understand it,” continued the captain.

“I do,” answered the surgeon, vigorously rubbing one of his legs.

“What is it?” asked Sheridan, suspecting that they all had some strange disease.

“Cosas de España,” laughed the doctor.

“But that is Spanish; and I don’t understand the lingo.”

“Acosa de Españais a ‘thing of Spain;’ fleas are things of Spain; and that is what is the matter with you and me. The lining of this carriage has been repaired by covering it in part with cloth with a long nap, which is alive with fleas.”

“The wicked flea!” exclaimed Murray.

“He goeth about in Spain, seeking whom he may devour,” added the doctor.

When they reached the hotel, supper was ready; but they did not want any just then, for no one feels hungry while a myriad of fleas are picking his bones. Garments were taken off, and brushed on the inside; the skin was washed with cologne-water; and the party were happy till they took in a new supply.

At about eleven at night, the ship’s company took the train south, and at quarter past eight the next morning were atEl Escorial.

CHAPTER IX.THE HOLD OF THE TRITONIA.Raimundowas in the hold of the Tritonia. He had made for himself a hiding-place under the dunnage in the run, by removing a quantity of ballast, and arranging a number of empty casks so as to conceal his retreat from any who might search the hold for him. The task had been ingeniously accomplished; and those who looked for him had examined every hole and corner above the ballast, that could possibly hold a person of his size; and they had no suspicion that there was room even for a cat under the dunnage.The young Spaniard had fully considered his situation before he ventured into the waters of Spain. He was fully prepared for the event that had occurred. The plan of his hiding-place was his own; but he knew that he could not make it, or remain in it for any considerable time, without assistance. If he spent a week or even three days in his den, he must have food and drink. He did not believe the squadron would remain many weeks in Spanish waters; and it was his purpose to stay in the hold during this time, if he found it necessary to do so. A confederate was therefore indispensable to the success of the scheme.Certain work required to be done in the hold, such as getting up stores and keeping every thing in order, was divided among the stewards. Those employed in the cabin attended to the after-hold, and those in the steerage to the fore-hold. One of the former was a Cuban mulatto, a very bright fellow, who spoke Spanish as well as English. Raimundo had become quite intimate with him, because they both spoke their native tongue, which it was pleasant to each to hear, and the steward had become very fond of him. His name was Hugo; and Raimundo was confident the man would be his friend in the emergency.During study hours, the vice-principal and the professors were employed in the steerage. When the quarter-watch to which the young Spaniard belonged was off duty, instead of spending his time on deck as his companions did in fine weather, he remained in the cabin, which at times was entirely deserted. He found that Hugo was willing to listen to him; and by degrees he told him his whole story, as he had related it to Scott, and disclosed the plan he intended to adopt when his uncle or his agents should put in a claim for him. Hugo was ready and anxious to take part in the enterprise. There could be no doubt in regard to his fidelity, for the steward would have perilled his life in the service of the young Spaniard.At a favorable time they visited the hold together; and Raimundo indicated what was to be done in the preparation of the hiding-place. Both of them worked at the job. The ballast taken from the hold was carefully distributed in other places under the dunnage. Hugo had charge of the after-hold, and his being there so much excited no suspicion.When the ship’s company returned, after the lecture, Raimundo waited in the cabin till he was alone with Hugo; for all hands were on deck, observing the strange scenes around them. He then descended to the hold, and deposited himself in the den prepared for him. His faithful confederate had lined it with old garments and pieces of sail-cloth, so that the place was not as uncomfortable as it might have been. The “mysterious disappearance” had been duly effected.Hugo carried food and drink to his charge in the morning, and left a pail of water for his ablutions, if he chose to make them. Of course the steward was very nervous while the several searches were in progress; but, as he spoke Spanish, he was able to mislead thealguacil, even while he professed to desire that every part of the vessel should be examined. Hugo not only provided food and water for the self-made prisoner, but he informed him, when he could, what was going on; so that he knew when all hands had gone on shore, and was duly apprised of the fact that the Josephines and Tritonias were to proceed to Lisbon in the Prince. But the steward dared not remain long in the hold, while Salter was in the cabin. Raimundo wanted to get on board of the steamer that day or night, if it were possible; but the chances were all against him.Hugo assured him that it would be entirely safe for him to leave his hiding-place, as he could easily keep out of the way of any chance visitor in the hold, and he would notify him if another search was likely to be made. Availing himself of this permission, Raimundo crawled out of his hole. It was arelief to his limbs to stretch them; and he exercised himself as freely as he could. While he was thus engaged, he saw the fore-scuttle opened, and some one come down. The fugitive stepped behind the mainmast. He saw the figure of one of the students, as he judged that he was from his size, moving stealthily in the gloom of the place. In a moment more, he rushed up the steps, and disappeared. In an instant afterwards, Raimundo saw a flame flash up from the pile of rubbish.The vessel was on fire, or she soon would be; for there was fire near her timbers. Grasping the bucket of water Hugo had left for his ablutions, he poured enough on the fire to extinguish it, and then retreated to the covert of the mainmast. A second time the incendiary-match was applied; and again the fugitive put it out with the contents of the pail. For the third time the incendiary pile that was to doom the beautiful Tritonia to destruction was lighted; and this time the wretch who applied the match evidently intended to remain till the flames were well under way. The fugitive was greatly disturbed; for, if he showed himself to the incendiary, he would betray his secret, and expose his presence. But he could not hesitate to save the vessel at whatever consequences to himself; and, as soon as he saw the blaze, he rushed aft, accosted the villain, and stamped out the fire, for he had entirely emptied the pail.“What are you about, you villain? Do you mean to burn the vessel?” demanded Raimundo, who did not yet know who the incendiary was.Bill Stout was startled, not to say overwhelmed, bythis unexpected interference with his plans. He recognized the second master, whose mysterious disappearance had excited so much astonishment. But he was prompt to see, that, if Raimundo had detected him in a crime, he had possession of the fugitive’s secret. Somebody on shore wanted the second master, and an officer had come on board for him. Perhaps he was guilty of some grave misdemeanor, and for that reason would not allow himself to be caught; for none of the students except Scott knew why the young Spaniard was required on shore. Bill Stout did not care: he only saw that it was an even thing between himself and Raimundo.“Who are you?” asked the fugitive, when he had waited a moment for an answer to his first question.“I advise you not to speak too loud, Mr. Raimundo, unless you wish to have the chief steward know you are here,” replied Bill, when he had recovered his self-possession, and taken a hurried view of the situation.“Stout!” exclaimed Raimundo, identifying the familiar voice.But he spoke in a low tone, for he was not disposed to summon Mr. Salter to the hold, though he had felt that he sacrificed himself and his plan when he showed himself to the incendiary.“That’s my name,” replied the young villain.“I understand what you were scheming at in your watch on deck. Lingall, Pardee, and Gibbs are your associates in this rascality,” added Raimundo.Stout, who was not before aware that he had been watched by the second master or by any other officer, was rather taken aback by this announcement; but hepromptly denied that the students named were concerned in the affair.“Lingall is with you, I know. I see how you have managed the affair. He is your companion in the brig, which was built over the midship scuttle,” continued Raimundo. “But why do you desire to burn the vessel?”“Because I want to get out of her,” replied Bill sullenly. “But I can’t stop here to talk.”“Do you really mean to burn the Tritonia?”“That’s what I did mean; but, since you have found me out, I shall not be likely to do it now.”“Whatever you do, don’t do that. You are in the waters of Spain now, and I don’t know but you would have to be tried and punished for it in this country.”Bill Stout had no idea of being tried and punished for the crime in any country; and he had not even considered it a crime when he thought of the matter. He did not expect to be found out when he planned the job: villains never expect to be. But he was alarmed now; and the deed he had attempted seemed to be a hundred times more wicked and dangerous than at any time before.“I can’t stop here: Salter will miss me if I do,” added Bill, moving up the ladder.“Wait a minute,” interposed Raimundo, who was willing to save himself from exposure if he could.“I’ll come down again, after a while,” answered Bill, as he opened the scuttle, and got into the brig.“Why did you stay down so long?” demanded Bark Lingall nervously.“It’s all up now, and we can’t do any thing,” repliedBill sullenly, as he seated himself on his stool, and picked up one of his books.“What’s the matter?”“We are found out.”“Found out!” exclaimed Bark; and his heart rose into his throat at the announcement. “How can that be?”“I was seen doing it.”“Who saw you?”“You couldn’t guess in a month,” added Bill, who fixed his gaze on his book while he was talking.“Didn’t I hear you speaking to some one in the hold, Bill?” asked Bark, as he picked up a book, in order to follow the studious example of his companion.“I was speaking to some one,” replied Bill.“Who was it?”“Raimundo; and he knew that you were concerned in the job without my mentioning your name;” and Bill explained what had passed between himself and the second master.“Raimundo!” exclaimed Bark, in a musing manner. “Then he mysteriously disappeared into the hold.”“He did; and he has us where the hair is short,” added Bill.“And perhaps we have him where the hair is long enough to get hold of. All we have to do is to tell Salter, when he comes to look at us, that Raimundo is in the hold.”“We won’t do it; and then Raimundo won’t say we set the vessel on fire,” protested Bill.“Wait a bit, Bill. He is a spooney, a chaplain’s lamb. He may keep still till he gets out of his ownscrape, whatever it may be, and then blow on us when he is safe himself.”“I don’t know: I shall see him again after Salter has paid us another visit.”The chief steward came into the steerage a few minutes later; and seeing both of the prisoners engaged in study, as he supposed, he probably believed the hour of reformation had come. As soon as he had gone, Bill opened the scuttle again, and went down into the hold; but he was unwilling to leave the brig for more than a few moments at a time, lest some accident should betray his absence to the chief steward. He arranged a plan by which he could talk with Raimundo without danger from above. Returning to the brig, he lay down on the floor, with a book in his hand, so that his head was close to the scuttle. Bark was seated on the floor, also with a book in his hand, in such a position as to conceal the trap-door, which was raised a few inches, from the gaze of Mr. Salter, if he should happen suddenly to enter the steerage. Raimundo was to stand on the steps of the ladder, with his head on a level with the cabin floor, where he could hear Bill, and be heard by him.“I think we can’t afford to quarrel,” said Bill magnanimously. “We are all in the same boat now. I suppose you are wanted on shore for some dido you cut up before you left your home.”“I did nothing wrong before I left my home,” replied Raimundo; and it galled him terribly to be obliged to make terms with the rascals in the brig. “My trouble is simply a family affair; and, if captured, I shall be subjected to no penalty whatever.”“Is that all?” asked Bill, sorry it was no worse.“That’s all; but for reasons I don’t care to explain, I do not wish to be taken back to my uncle in Barcelona. But I will give myself up before I will let you burn the Tritonia,” replied Raimundo, with no little indignation in his tones.“Of course, as things stand now, we shall not burn the vessel,” added Bill: “we will make a fair trade with you.”“I shall make no trades of any kind; but I leave you free to do what you think best, and I shall remain so myself,” said Raimundo, who was too high-toned to bargain with fellows wicked enough to burn the beautiful Tritonia. “It is enough that I wish to get away from this city.”“If you clear out, you won’t blow on us,” added Bill, willing to put the best construction on the statement of the second master.“I promise nothing; but this I say: if you burn the Tritonia, whether I am on board or a thousand miles away, I will inform the principal who set the fire.”“Of course we should not do any thing of that sort now,” added Bark, whose head was near enough to the scuttle to enable him to hear all that was said.“I shall be obliged to keep out of the way of all on board, for the present at least,” said Raimundo.“We are satisfied with that,” replied Bill, who seemed to be in haste to reach some other branch of the subject.“Very well: then there is nothing more to be said,” answered Raimundo, who was quite willing to close the interview at this point.The conspirators were not so willing; for the chance of escape held out to them by the burning of the vessel was gone, and they were very much dissatisfied with the situation. It would be madness to repeat the attempt to destroy the vessel; and the future looked very unpromising. All hands were going off on a very desirable cruise in the steamer. Ben Pardee and Lon Gibbs had apparently deserted them when tempted by the voyage to Lisbon. They had a dismal prospect of staying in the brig, under the care of Marline and Rimmer, for the next three weeks.The second master had plenty of time to think over his arrangements for the next week or two; and he was not much better satisfied with the immediate prospect for the future, than were the occupants of the brig. His accommodations were far less comfortable than theirs; and the experience of a single night had caused him to fear that he might take cold and be sick. Besides, he had not calculated that the Tritonia was to lie at this port for two or three weeks, thus increasing the danger and discomfort of his situation. If he had to abandon his hiding-place, he preferred to take his chances at any other port rather than Barcelona. It was more than probable that Marline and Rimmer would overhaul the hold, and re-stow the boxes and barrels while the vessel was at anchor; and possibly the principal had ordered some repairs at this favorable time.His chance of getting on board of the Prince before she sailed was too small to afford him any hope. The change the principal had made in the programme interfered sadly with his calculations. Mr. Lowington had made this alteration in order to enable the students tovisit the northern and central parts of the peninsula before the weather became too cold to permit them to do so with any degree of comfort. The fugitive was willing, therefore, to change his plans if it was possible.“Hold on a minute,” interposed Bill Stout, when Raimundo was about to descend the ladder. “What are you going to do with yourself while the vessel lies here for the next three weeks?”“I shall have to keep out of sight in the hold,” replied the second master.“But you can’t do that. You will starve to death.”“I have looked out for that.”Though Bill Stout asked some questions on this point, Raimundo declined to say in what manner he had provided for his rations.“Do you know who are in charge on board now?” asked Bill.“Only Mr. Salter and one of the stewards,” replied the fugitive.“Why don’t you use your chance while Marline and Rimmer are ashore, and leave the vessel? You can get away without being seen.”“I can’t get out of the vessel without going through the cabin where Mr. Salter is,” answered Raimundo; but the suggestion gave him a lively hope.“Yes, you can: you can get out by the fore-scuttle, go over the bow, and roost on the bobstay till a shore boat comes along,” added Bill. “Only you musn’t let the steward see you. Salter is in the cabin, and he won’t know any thing about it.”Raimundo was grateful for the suggestion, though he was not willing to acknowledge it, considering thesource from which it came. Hugo would help him, instead of being a hinderance. The steward would call a boat, and have it all ready for him when he got out of the vessel. He could even keep Mr. Salter in the cabin, while he made his escape, by engaging his attention in some matter of business.“I will see what I can do,” said the fugitive as he left the ladder.He went aft to the cabin ladder, and raised the scuttle an inch. Hugo was setting the table for Mr. Salter’s lunch. He saw the trap-door raised, and he immediately went below for a jar of pickles. In five minutes Raimundo had recited his plan to him. In five minutes more Hugo had a boat at the bow of the Tritonia, waiting for its passenger. At half-past twelve, Hugo called Mr. Salter to his lunch; and, when this gentleman took his seat at the table, Hugo raised the trap, and slammed it down as though it had not been in place before. Raimundo understood the signal.The fugitive went forward, and ascended to the deck by the fore-scuttle. He was making his way over the bow when he found that he was followed by Bill Stout and Bark Lingall.“What are you doing here?” demanded Raimundo, astonished and annoyed at the action of the incendiaries.“We are going with you,” replied Bill Stout. “Over with you! if you say a word, we will call Salter.”Raimundo dropped into the boat that was waiting for him, and the villains from the brig followed him.

THE HOLD OF THE TRITONIA.

Raimundowas in the hold of the Tritonia. He had made for himself a hiding-place under the dunnage in the run, by removing a quantity of ballast, and arranging a number of empty casks so as to conceal his retreat from any who might search the hold for him. The task had been ingeniously accomplished; and those who looked for him had examined every hole and corner above the ballast, that could possibly hold a person of his size; and they had no suspicion that there was room even for a cat under the dunnage.

The young Spaniard had fully considered his situation before he ventured into the waters of Spain. He was fully prepared for the event that had occurred. The plan of his hiding-place was his own; but he knew that he could not make it, or remain in it for any considerable time, without assistance. If he spent a week or even three days in his den, he must have food and drink. He did not believe the squadron would remain many weeks in Spanish waters; and it was his purpose to stay in the hold during this time, if he found it necessary to do so. A confederate was therefore indispensable to the success of the scheme.

Certain work required to be done in the hold, such as getting up stores and keeping every thing in order, was divided among the stewards. Those employed in the cabin attended to the after-hold, and those in the steerage to the fore-hold. One of the former was a Cuban mulatto, a very bright fellow, who spoke Spanish as well as English. Raimundo had become quite intimate with him, because they both spoke their native tongue, which it was pleasant to each to hear, and the steward had become very fond of him. His name was Hugo; and Raimundo was confident the man would be his friend in the emergency.

During study hours, the vice-principal and the professors were employed in the steerage. When the quarter-watch to which the young Spaniard belonged was off duty, instead of spending his time on deck as his companions did in fine weather, he remained in the cabin, which at times was entirely deserted. He found that Hugo was willing to listen to him; and by degrees he told him his whole story, as he had related it to Scott, and disclosed the plan he intended to adopt when his uncle or his agents should put in a claim for him. Hugo was ready and anxious to take part in the enterprise. There could be no doubt in regard to his fidelity, for the steward would have perilled his life in the service of the young Spaniard.

At a favorable time they visited the hold together; and Raimundo indicated what was to be done in the preparation of the hiding-place. Both of them worked at the job. The ballast taken from the hold was carefully distributed in other places under the dunnage. Hugo had charge of the after-hold, and his being there so much excited no suspicion.

When the ship’s company returned, after the lecture, Raimundo waited in the cabin till he was alone with Hugo; for all hands were on deck, observing the strange scenes around them. He then descended to the hold, and deposited himself in the den prepared for him. His faithful confederate had lined it with old garments and pieces of sail-cloth, so that the place was not as uncomfortable as it might have been. The “mysterious disappearance” had been duly effected.

Hugo carried food and drink to his charge in the morning, and left a pail of water for his ablutions, if he chose to make them. Of course the steward was very nervous while the several searches were in progress; but, as he spoke Spanish, he was able to mislead thealguacil, even while he professed to desire that every part of the vessel should be examined. Hugo not only provided food and water for the self-made prisoner, but he informed him, when he could, what was going on; so that he knew when all hands had gone on shore, and was duly apprised of the fact that the Josephines and Tritonias were to proceed to Lisbon in the Prince. But the steward dared not remain long in the hold, while Salter was in the cabin. Raimundo wanted to get on board of the steamer that day or night, if it were possible; but the chances were all against him.

Hugo assured him that it would be entirely safe for him to leave his hiding-place, as he could easily keep out of the way of any chance visitor in the hold, and he would notify him if another search was likely to be made. Availing himself of this permission, Raimundo crawled out of his hole. It was arelief to his limbs to stretch them; and he exercised himself as freely as he could. While he was thus engaged, he saw the fore-scuttle opened, and some one come down. The fugitive stepped behind the mainmast. He saw the figure of one of the students, as he judged that he was from his size, moving stealthily in the gloom of the place. In a moment more, he rushed up the steps, and disappeared. In an instant afterwards, Raimundo saw a flame flash up from the pile of rubbish.

The vessel was on fire, or she soon would be; for there was fire near her timbers. Grasping the bucket of water Hugo had left for his ablutions, he poured enough on the fire to extinguish it, and then retreated to the covert of the mainmast. A second time the incendiary-match was applied; and again the fugitive put it out with the contents of the pail. For the third time the incendiary pile that was to doom the beautiful Tritonia to destruction was lighted; and this time the wretch who applied the match evidently intended to remain till the flames were well under way. The fugitive was greatly disturbed; for, if he showed himself to the incendiary, he would betray his secret, and expose his presence. But he could not hesitate to save the vessel at whatever consequences to himself; and, as soon as he saw the blaze, he rushed aft, accosted the villain, and stamped out the fire, for he had entirely emptied the pail.

“What are you about, you villain? Do you mean to burn the vessel?” demanded Raimundo, who did not yet know who the incendiary was.

Bill Stout was startled, not to say overwhelmed, bythis unexpected interference with his plans. He recognized the second master, whose mysterious disappearance had excited so much astonishment. But he was prompt to see, that, if Raimundo had detected him in a crime, he had possession of the fugitive’s secret. Somebody on shore wanted the second master, and an officer had come on board for him. Perhaps he was guilty of some grave misdemeanor, and for that reason would not allow himself to be caught; for none of the students except Scott knew why the young Spaniard was required on shore. Bill Stout did not care: he only saw that it was an even thing between himself and Raimundo.

“Who are you?” asked the fugitive, when he had waited a moment for an answer to his first question.

“I advise you not to speak too loud, Mr. Raimundo, unless you wish to have the chief steward know you are here,” replied Bill, when he had recovered his self-possession, and taken a hurried view of the situation.

“Stout!” exclaimed Raimundo, identifying the familiar voice.

But he spoke in a low tone, for he was not disposed to summon Mr. Salter to the hold, though he had felt that he sacrificed himself and his plan when he showed himself to the incendiary.

“That’s my name,” replied the young villain.

“I understand what you were scheming at in your watch on deck. Lingall, Pardee, and Gibbs are your associates in this rascality,” added Raimundo.

Stout, who was not before aware that he had been watched by the second master or by any other officer, was rather taken aback by this announcement; but hepromptly denied that the students named were concerned in the affair.

“Lingall is with you, I know. I see how you have managed the affair. He is your companion in the brig, which was built over the midship scuttle,” continued Raimundo. “But why do you desire to burn the vessel?”

“Because I want to get out of her,” replied Bill sullenly. “But I can’t stop here to talk.”

“Do you really mean to burn the Tritonia?”

“That’s what I did mean; but, since you have found me out, I shall not be likely to do it now.”

“Whatever you do, don’t do that. You are in the waters of Spain now, and I don’t know but you would have to be tried and punished for it in this country.”

Bill Stout had no idea of being tried and punished for the crime in any country; and he had not even considered it a crime when he thought of the matter. He did not expect to be found out when he planned the job: villains never expect to be. But he was alarmed now; and the deed he had attempted seemed to be a hundred times more wicked and dangerous than at any time before.

“I can’t stop here: Salter will miss me if I do,” added Bill, moving up the ladder.

“Wait a minute,” interposed Raimundo, who was willing to save himself from exposure if he could.

“I’ll come down again, after a while,” answered Bill, as he opened the scuttle, and got into the brig.

“Why did you stay down so long?” demanded Bark Lingall nervously.

“It’s all up now, and we can’t do any thing,” repliedBill sullenly, as he seated himself on his stool, and picked up one of his books.

“What’s the matter?”

“We are found out.”

“Found out!” exclaimed Bark; and his heart rose into his throat at the announcement. “How can that be?”

“I was seen doing it.”

“Who saw you?”

“You couldn’t guess in a month,” added Bill, who fixed his gaze on his book while he was talking.

“Didn’t I hear you speaking to some one in the hold, Bill?” asked Bark, as he picked up a book, in order to follow the studious example of his companion.

“I was speaking to some one,” replied Bill.

“Who was it?”

“Raimundo; and he knew that you were concerned in the job without my mentioning your name;” and Bill explained what had passed between himself and the second master.

“Raimundo!” exclaimed Bark, in a musing manner. “Then he mysteriously disappeared into the hold.”

“He did; and he has us where the hair is short,” added Bill.

“And perhaps we have him where the hair is long enough to get hold of. All we have to do is to tell Salter, when he comes to look at us, that Raimundo is in the hold.”

“We won’t do it; and then Raimundo won’t say we set the vessel on fire,” protested Bill.

“Wait a bit, Bill. He is a spooney, a chaplain’s lamb. He may keep still till he gets out of his ownscrape, whatever it may be, and then blow on us when he is safe himself.”

“I don’t know: I shall see him again after Salter has paid us another visit.”

The chief steward came into the steerage a few minutes later; and seeing both of the prisoners engaged in study, as he supposed, he probably believed the hour of reformation had come. As soon as he had gone, Bill opened the scuttle again, and went down into the hold; but he was unwilling to leave the brig for more than a few moments at a time, lest some accident should betray his absence to the chief steward. He arranged a plan by which he could talk with Raimundo without danger from above. Returning to the brig, he lay down on the floor, with a book in his hand, so that his head was close to the scuttle. Bark was seated on the floor, also with a book in his hand, in such a position as to conceal the trap-door, which was raised a few inches, from the gaze of Mr. Salter, if he should happen suddenly to enter the steerage. Raimundo was to stand on the steps of the ladder, with his head on a level with the cabin floor, where he could hear Bill, and be heard by him.

“I think we can’t afford to quarrel,” said Bill magnanimously. “We are all in the same boat now. I suppose you are wanted on shore for some dido you cut up before you left your home.”

“I did nothing wrong before I left my home,” replied Raimundo; and it galled him terribly to be obliged to make terms with the rascals in the brig. “My trouble is simply a family affair; and, if captured, I shall be subjected to no penalty whatever.”

“Is that all?” asked Bill, sorry it was no worse.

“That’s all; but for reasons I don’t care to explain, I do not wish to be taken back to my uncle in Barcelona. But I will give myself up before I will let you burn the Tritonia,” replied Raimundo, with no little indignation in his tones.

“Of course, as things stand now, we shall not burn the vessel,” added Bill: “we will make a fair trade with you.”

“I shall make no trades of any kind; but I leave you free to do what you think best, and I shall remain so myself,” said Raimundo, who was too high-toned to bargain with fellows wicked enough to burn the beautiful Tritonia. “It is enough that I wish to get away from this city.”

“If you clear out, you won’t blow on us,” added Bill, willing to put the best construction on the statement of the second master.

“I promise nothing; but this I say: if you burn the Tritonia, whether I am on board or a thousand miles away, I will inform the principal who set the fire.”

“Of course we should not do any thing of that sort now,” added Bark, whose head was near enough to the scuttle to enable him to hear all that was said.

“I shall be obliged to keep out of the way of all on board, for the present at least,” said Raimundo.

“We are satisfied with that,” replied Bill, who seemed to be in haste to reach some other branch of the subject.

“Very well: then there is nothing more to be said,” answered Raimundo, who was quite willing to close the interview at this point.

The conspirators were not so willing; for the chance of escape held out to them by the burning of the vessel was gone, and they were very much dissatisfied with the situation. It would be madness to repeat the attempt to destroy the vessel; and the future looked very unpromising. All hands were going off on a very desirable cruise in the steamer. Ben Pardee and Lon Gibbs had apparently deserted them when tempted by the voyage to Lisbon. They had a dismal prospect of staying in the brig, under the care of Marline and Rimmer, for the next three weeks.

The second master had plenty of time to think over his arrangements for the next week or two; and he was not much better satisfied with the immediate prospect for the future, than were the occupants of the brig. His accommodations were far less comfortable than theirs; and the experience of a single night had caused him to fear that he might take cold and be sick. Besides, he had not calculated that the Tritonia was to lie at this port for two or three weeks, thus increasing the danger and discomfort of his situation. If he had to abandon his hiding-place, he preferred to take his chances at any other port rather than Barcelona. It was more than probable that Marline and Rimmer would overhaul the hold, and re-stow the boxes and barrels while the vessel was at anchor; and possibly the principal had ordered some repairs at this favorable time.

His chance of getting on board of the Prince before she sailed was too small to afford him any hope. The change the principal had made in the programme interfered sadly with his calculations. Mr. Lowington had made this alteration in order to enable the students tovisit the northern and central parts of the peninsula before the weather became too cold to permit them to do so with any degree of comfort. The fugitive was willing, therefore, to change his plans if it was possible.

“Hold on a minute,” interposed Bill Stout, when Raimundo was about to descend the ladder. “What are you going to do with yourself while the vessel lies here for the next three weeks?”

“I shall have to keep out of sight in the hold,” replied the second master.

“But you can’t do that. You will starve to death.”

“I have looked out for that.”

Though Bill Stout asked some questions on this point, Raimundo declined to say in what manner he had provided for his rations.

“Do you know who are in charge on board now?” asked Bill.

“Only Mr. Salter and one of the stewards,” replied the fugitive.

“Why don’t you use your chance while Marline and Rimmer are ashore, and leave the vessel? You can get away without being seen.”

“I can’t get out of the vessel without going through the cabin where Mr. Salter is,” answered Raimundo; but the suggestion gave him a lively hope.

“Yes, you can: you can get out by the fore-scuttle, go over the bow, and roost on the bobstay till a shore boat comes along,” added Bill. “Only you musn’t let the steward see you. Salter is in the cabin, and he won’t know any thing about it.”

Raimundo was grateful for the suggestion, though he was not willing to acknowledge it, considering thesource from which it came. Hugo would help him, instead of being a hinderance. The steward would call a boat, and have it all ready for him when he got out of the vessel. He could even keep Mr. Salter in the cabin, while he made his escape, by engaging his attention in some matter of business.

“I will see what I can do,” said the fugitive as he left the ladder.

He went aft to the cabin ladder, and raised the scuttle an inch. Hugo was setting the table for Mr. Salter’s lunch. He saw the trap-door raised, and he immediately went below for a jar of pickles. In five minutes Raimundo had recited his plan to him. In five minutes more Hugo had a boat at the bow of the Tritonia, waiting for its passenger. At half-past twelve, Hugo called Mr. Salter to his lunch; and, when this gentleman took his seat at the table, Hugo raised the trap, and slammed it down as though it had not been in place before. Raimundo understood the signal.

The fugitive went forward, and ascended to the deck by the fore-scuttle. He was making his way over the bow when he found that he was followed by Bill Stout and Bark Lingall.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Raimundo, astonished and annoyed at the action of the incendiaries.

“We are going with you,” replied Bill Stout. “Over with you! if you say a word, we will call Salter.”

Raimundo dropped into the boat that was waiting for him, and the villains from the brig followed him.

CHAPTER X.THE ESCURIAL AND PHILIP II.Beforethe train stopped, the students obtained a fair view of the Escurial, which is a vast pile of buildings, located in the most desolate place to be found even in Spain. The village is hardly less solemn and gloomy than the tremendous structure that towers above. The students breakfasted at the twofondasin the place; and then Mr. Mapps, as usual, had something to say to them:—“The Escurial, orEl Escorialas it is called in Spanish, is a monastery, palace, and church. The name is derived fromscoriæ, the refuse of iron-lore after it is smelted; and there were iron-mines in this vicinity. The full name of the building is ‘El Real Sitio de San Lorenzo el Real del Escorial,’ or, literally, ‘The Royal Seat of St. Lawrence, the Royal, of the Escurial.’ It was built by Philip II. in commemoration of the battle of St. Quentin, in 1557, won by the arms of Philip, though he was not present at the battle. He had made a vow, that, if the saint gave him the victory, he would build the most magnificent monastery in the world in his honor. St. Lawrence was kind enough toaccommodate him with the victory; and this remarkable pile of buildings was the result. Philip redeemed his vow, and even did more than this; for, in recognition of the fact that the saint was martyred on a gridiron, he built this monastery in the form of that useful cooking implement. As you see, the structure is in the form of a square; and, within it, seventeen ranges of buildings cross each other at right angles. The towers at each corner are two hundred feet high; and the grand dome in the centre is three hundred and twenty feet high.“The total length of the building is seven hundred and forty feet, by five hundred and eighty feet wide. It was begun in 1563, when Philip laid the corner-stone with his own hands; and was completed twenty-one years later. It cost, in money of our time, fifteen millions of dollars. It has four thousand windows; though you may see that most of them are rather small. The church, which is properly the chapel of the monastery, is three hundred and seventy-five feet long, and contains forty chapels. The high altar is ninety feet high, and fifty feet wide, and is composed of jasper. Directly under it is the royal tomb, in which are laid the remains of all the sovereigns of Spain from Charles V. to the present time. The Spaniards regard the Escurial as the eighth wonder of the world. It is grand, solemn, and gloomy, like Philip who built it. In the mountain, a mile and a half from the Escurial, is a seat built of granite, which Philip used to occupy while watching the progress of the work.”The students separated, dividing into parties to suitthemselves. All the available guides were engaged for them; and in a few minutes the interior of the church presented a scene that would have astonished the gloomy Philip if he could have stepped out of his shelf below to look at it, for a hundred young Americans—from the land that Columbus gave to Castile and Leon—was an unusual sight within its cold and deserted walls.“I suppose you have read the lives of Charles V. and Philip II.,” said Dr. Winstock, as he entered the great building with his young friends.Both of them had read Robertson and Prescott and Irving; and it was because they were generally well read up that the doctor liked to be with them.“It isn’t of much use for any one who has not read the life of Philip II. to come here: at least, he would be in the dark all the time,” added the doctor.“I have seen it stated that Charles V. and his mother, Crazy Jane, both wanted a convent built which should contain a burial-place for the royal family,” said Sheridan.“That is true. All of them were very pious, and inclined to dwell in convents. Charles V. showed his taste at his abdication by retiring to Yuste,” replied the surgeon.“The architecture of the building is very plain.”“Yes,—simple, massive, and grand.”“Like Philip, as Professor Mapps said.”“It took him two years to find a suitable spot for the building,” said the doctor.“I don’t think he could have found a worse one,” laughed Murray.“But he found just the one he wanted; and he did not select it to suit you and me. Look off at those mountains on the north,—the Guadarramas. They tower above Philip’s mausoleum, but they do not belittle it. The region is rough but grand: it is desolate; but that makes it more solemn and impressive. It is a monastery and a tomb that he built, not a pleasure-house.”“But he made a royal residence of it,” suggested Murray.“For the same reason that his father chose to end his days in a monastery. Philip would be a wild fanatic in our day; but he is to be judged by his own time. He was really a king and a monk, as much one as the other. When we go into the room where he died, and where he spent the last days of his life, and recall some of his history there, we shall understand him better. I don’t admire his character, but I am disposed to do justice to him.”The party entered the church, called in Spanishtemplo: it is three hundred and twenty feet long, and it is the same to the top of the cupola.“The interior is so well proportioned that you do not get an adequate idea of the size of it,” said the doctor. “Consider that you could put almost any church in our own country into this one, and have plenty of room for its spire under that dome. It is severely plain; but I think it is grand and impressive. The high altar, which I believe the professor did not make as large as it really is, is very rich in marbles and precious stones, and cost about two hundred thousand dollars.”“That’s enough to build twenty comfortable countrychurches at home,” added Murray. “And this whole building cost money enough to build fifteen thousand handsome churches in any country. Of course there are plenty of beggars in Spain.”“That is the republican view of the matter,” replied Dr. Winstock. “But the builder of this mighty fabric believed he was serving God acceptably in rearing it; and we must judge him by his motive, and consider the age in which he lived. Observe, as Mr Ford says in his hand-book, that the pantheon, or crypt where the kings are buried, is just under the steps of the high altar: it was so planned by Philip, that the host, when it was elevated, might be above the royal dead. Now we will go into therelicario.”“I think I have seen about relics enough to last me the rest of my lifetime,” said Sheridan.“You need not see them if you do not wish to do so,” laughed the surgeon. “This is a tolerably free country just now, and you can do as you please.”But the captain followed his party.“The French carried away vast quantities of the treasures of the church when they were engaged in conquering the country. But they left the bones of the saints, which the pious regard as the real treasures. Among other things stolen was a statue presented by the people of Messina to Philip III., weighing two hundred pounds, of solid silver, and holding in its hand a gold vessel weighing twenty-six pounds; besides forty-seven of the richest vases, and a heavy crown set with rubies and other precious stones,” continued Dr. Winstock, consulting a guide-book he carried in his hand. “This book says there are 7,421 relics here now, amongwhich are ten whole bodies, 144 heads, 306 whole legs and arms; here is one of the real bars of the gridiron on which St. Lawrence was martyred, with portions of the broiled flesh upon it; and there is one of his feet, with a piece of coal sticking between the toes.”“But where did they get that bar of the gridiron?” asked Murray earnestly. “St. Lawrence was broiled in the third century.”“I don’t know,” replied the doctor. “You must not ask me any questions of that kind, for I cannot answer them.”The party returned to the church again; and the surgeon called the attention of his companions to the oratorios, one on each side of the altar, which are small rooms for the use of the royal persons when they attend the mass.“The one on the left is the one used by Philip II.,” added the doctor. “You see the latticed window through which he looked at the priest. Next to it is his cabinet, where he worked and where he died. We shall visit them from the palace.”After looking at the choir, and examining the bishop’s throne, the party with a dozen others visited the pantheon, or royal tomb. The descent is by a flight of marble steps, and the walls are also of the same material. At the second landing are two doors, that on the left leading to the “pantheon de los infantes,” which is the tomb of those queens who were not mothers of sovereigns of Spain, and of princes who did not sit on the throne. There are sixty bodies here, including Don Carlos, the son of Philip, Don John of Austria, who asked to be buried here as the proper reward forhis services, and other persons whose names are known to history.After looking at these interesting relics of mortality, the tourists descended to the pantheon, which is a heathenish name to apply to a Christian burial-place erected by one so pious as Philip II. It is octagonal in form, forty-six feet in diameter and thirty-eight feet high. It is built entirely of marble and jasper. It contains an altar of the same stone, where mass is sometimes celebrated. These mortuary chapels were not built by Philip II., who made only plain vaults; but by Philip III. and Philip IV., who did not inherit the taste for simplicity of their predecessor on the throne. Around the tomb are twenty-six niches, all of them made after the same pattern, each containing a sarcophagus, in most of which is the body of a king or queen. On the right of the altar are the kings, and on the left the queens. All of them are labelled with the name of the occupant, as “Carlos V.,” “Filipe II.,” “Fernando VII.,” &c.“Can it be possible that we see the coffins of Charles V. and Philip II.?” said Sheridan, who was very much impressed by the sight before him.“There is no doubt of it,” replied the doctor.“I can hardly believe that the body of Philip II. is in that case,” added the captain. “I see no reason to doubt the fact; but it seems so very strange that I should be looking at the coffin of that cold and cruel king who lived before our country was settled, and of whom I have read so much.”“I think before you leave Spain you will see something that will impress you even more than this.”“What is it?”“I will not mention it yet; for it is better not to anticipate these things. All the kings of Spain from Charles V. are buried here, except Philip V. and Ferdinand VI.”“What an odd way they have here of spelling Charles and Philip!” said Murray. “These names don’t look quite natural to me.”“Carlos Quinto is the Spanish for Charles Fifth; and Ferdinand Seventh is Fernando Septimo, as you see on the urn. But our way of writing these things is as odd to the Spaniards as theirs is to us. The late queen and her father, when they came to the Escurial, used to hear mass at midnight in this tomb.”“That was cheerful,” added Sheridan.“They had a fancy for that sort of thing. Maria Louisa, Philip’s wife, scratched her name on one of these marble cases with her scissors.”The party in the pantheon returned to the church to make room for another company to visit it. Dr. Winstock and his friends ascended the grand staircase, and from the top of the building obtained a fine view of the surrounding country, which at this season was as desolate and forbidding as possible. After this they took a survey of the monastery, most of which has the aspect of a barrack. They looked with interest at some of the portraits among the pictures, especially at those of Philip and Charles V. In the library they glanced at the old manuscripts, and at the catalogue in which some of Philip’s handwriting was pointed out to them.They next went to the palace, which is certainly amean abode for a king, though it was improved and adorned by some of the builder’s successors. Philip asked only a cell in the house he had erected and consecrated to God; and so he made the palace very simple and plain. Some of the long and narrow rooms are adorned with tapestries on the walls; but there is nothing in the palace to detain the visitor beyond a few minutes, except the apartments of Philip II. They are two small rooms, hardly more than six feet wide. One of them is Philip’s cabinet, where he worked on affairs of state; and the other is the oratory, where he knelt at the little latticed window which commanded a view of the priests at the high altar of the church. The old table at which he wrote, the chair in which he sat, and the footstool on which he placed his gouty leg, are still there. The doctor, who had been here before, pointed them out to the students.“It almost seems as though he had just left the place,” said Sheridan. “I don’t see how a great king could be content to spend his time in such a gloomy den as this.”“It was his own fancy, and he made his own nest to suit himself,” replied the doctor. “He was writing at that table when the loss of the invincible armada was announced to him. It is said he did not move a muscle, though he had wasted eighteen years of his life and a hundred million ducats upon the fleet and the scheme. He was kneeling at the window when Don John of Austria came in great haste to tell him of the victory of Lepanto; but he was not allowed to see the king till the latter had finished his devotions.”“He was a cool old fellow,” added Murray.“When he was near the end, he caused himself to be carried in a litter all over the wonderful building he had erected, that he might take a last look at the work of his hands,” continued the doctor. “He was finally brought to this place, where he received extreme unction; and, having taken leave of his family, he died, grasping the crucifix which his father had held in his last moments.”The party passed out of the buildings, and gave some time to the gardens and grounds of the Escurial. There are some trees, a few of them the spindling and ghostly-looking Lombardy poplars; but, beyond the immediate vicinity of the “eighth wonder,” the country is desolate and wild, without a tree to vary the monotony of the scene. The doctor led the way down the hill to theCasita del Principe, which is a sort of miniature palace, built for Charles IV. when he was a boy. It is a pretty toy, containing thirty-three rooms, all of them of reduced size, and with furniture on the same scale. It contains some fine pictures and other works of art.The tourists dined, and devoted the rest of the day to wandering about in the vicinity of the village. Some of them walked up to theSilla del Rey, or king’s chair, where Philip overlooked the work on the Escurial. At five o’clock the ship’s company took the slow train, and arrived at Madrid at half-past seven, using up two hours and a half in going thirty-two miles.“I am sorry it is too dark for you to see the country,” said the doctor, after the train started.“Why, sir, is it very fine?” asked Sheridan.“On the contrary, it is, I think, the most desolateregion on the face of the globe; with hardly a village, not a tree, nothing but rocks to be seen. It reminds me of some parts of Maine and New Hampshire, where they have to sharpen the sheep’s noses to enable them to feed among the rocks. The people are miserable and half savage; and it is said that many of them are clothed in sheepskins, and live in burrows in the ground, for the want of houses; but I never saw any thing of this kind, though I know that some of the gypsys in the South dwell in caves in the sides of the hills. Agriculture is at the lowest ebb, though Spain produces vast quantities of the most excellent qualities of grain. Like a portion of our own country, the numerous valleys are very fertile, though in the summer the streams of this part of Spain are all dried up. The gypsys camp in the bed of the Manzanares, at Madrid. Alexandre Dumas and his son went to a bull-fight at the capital. The son was faint, as you may be, and a glass of water was brought to him. After taking a swallow, he handed the rest to the waiter, saying, ‘Portez cela au Manzanares: cela lui fera plaisir.’ (Carry that to the Manzanares: it will give it pleasure).”“Good for Dumas,fils!” exclaimed Murray.“There is a prejudice against trees in Spain. The peasants will not plant them, or suffer them to grow, except those that bear fruit; because they afford habitations for the birds which eat up their grain. Timber and wood for fuel are therefore very scarce and very dear in this part of the country. But this region was not always so barren and desolate as it is now. In the wars with the Moors, both armies began by cutting down the trees and burning the villages. More ofthis desolation, however, was caused by a very remarkable privilege, called themesta, granted to certain of the nobility. It gave them the right of pasturage over vast territories, including the Castiles, Estremadura, and La Mancha. It came to be a legal right, and permitted immense flocks of sheep to roam across the country twice a year, in the spring and autumn. In the time of Philip II., the wandering flocks of sheep were estimated at from seven to eight millions. They devoured every thing before them in the shape of grass and shrubs. This privilege was not abolished till 1825.”“I should think Philip and the rest of the kings who lived at the Escurial would have had a nice time in going to and from the capital,” said Sheridan. “He did not have a palace-car on the railroad in those days.”“After Philip’s day they did not live there a great deal of the time, not so much because it was inconvenient as because it was a gloomy and cheerless place. They used to make it a rule to spend six weeks of the year there; though the last of the sovereigns did not live there at all, I believe. But they had good roads and good carriages for their time. The Spaniards do not make many roads; but what they do make are first-class. I am sorry we do not go to Segovia, though there is not much there except the cathedral and the Roman aqueduct, which is a fine specimen. But you have seen plenty of these things. Six miles from Segovia is La Granja, or the Grange, which is sometimes called the palace of San Ildefonso. It is areal sitio, or royal residence, built by Philip V. It is a summerretreat, in the midst of pine forests four thousand feet above the sea-level. We went through Valladolid in the night. Columbus died there, you remember; and Philip II. was born there; but there is nothing of great interest to be seen in the city.”When the train arrived at Madrid, a lot of small omnibuses, holding about eight persons each, were waiting for the company; and they were driven to thePuerta del Sol, where the principal hotels are located. Half of the party went to theGrand Hotel de Paris, and the other half to theHotel de los Principes. Dr. Winstock and hisprotégéswere quartered at the former.On shore no distinction was made between officers and seamen, and no better rooms were given to the former than to the latter. As two students occupied one wide bed, they were allowed to pair off for this purpose. It so happened that the captain and the first lieutenant had one of the worst rooms in the house. After they had gone up two pairs of stairs, a sign on the wall informed them that they had reached the first story; and four more brought them to the seven-by-nine chamber, with a brick floor, which they were to occupy. The furniture was very meagre.In Spain hotels charge by the day, the price being regulated by the size and location of the room. Such as that we have just described was thirty-fivereales. A good sized inside room, two flights nearer the earth, was fiftyreales, with an increase of fiverealesfor an outside room looking into the street. The table was the same for all the guests. The price per day varies from thirty to sixtyrealesin Spain, forty being themost common rate at the best hotels out of Madrid. From two to fourrealesa day is charged for attendance, and one or two for candles. Two dollars a day is therefore about the average rate. Only two meals a day are served for this price,—a breakfast at ten or eleven, and dinner at six.It is the fashion in Spain, for an individual or company to conduct several hotels in different cities. The Fallola brothers run the grand Hotel de Paris in Madrid, the ones with the same name in Seville and in Cadiz, and the Hotel Suiza in Cordova; and they are the highest-priced hotels on the peninsula, and doubtless the best. The company that manages the Hotel de Los Principes in Madrid also have the Rizzi in Cordova, the Londres in Seville, the Cadiz in Cadiz, and the Siete Suelos in Granada, in which the prices are more moderate. The Hotel Washington Irving at Granada, and the Alameda in Malaga, are under the same management, and charge forty-four and fortyrealesa day respectively, besides service and lights. Though Spain is said to be an expensive country to live in, these prices in 1870 were only about half those charged in the United States.Railroad fares are about two cents and a half a mile, second class; and about a third higher, first class. A one-horse carriage for two costs forty cents an hour in Madrid; and for four persons, two horses, fifty cents. A very handsome carriage, with driver and footman in livery, may be had for five dollars a day.After supper the students walked about thePuerta del Sol, and took their first view of the capital of Spain.

THE ESCURIAL AND PHILIP II.

Beforethe train stopped, the students obtained a fair view of the Escurial, which is a vast pile of buildings, located in the most desolate place to be found even in Spain. The village is hardly less solemn and gloomy than the tremendous structure that towers above. The students breakfasted at the twofondasin the place; and then Mr. Mapps, as usual, had something to say to them:—

“The Escurial, orEl Escorialas it is called in Spanish, is a monastery, palace, and church. The name is derived fromscoriæ, the refuse of iron-lore after it is smelted; and there were iron-mines in this vicinity. The full name of the building is ‘El Real Sitio de San Lorenzo el Real del Escorial,’ or, literally, ‘The Royal Seat of St. Lawrence, the Royal, of the Escurial.’ It was built by Philip II. in commemoration of the battle of St. Quentin, in 1557, won by the arms of Philip, though he was not present at the battle. He had made a vow, that, if the saint gave him the victory, he would build the most magnificent monastery in the world in his honor. St. Lawrence was kind enough toaccommodate him with the victory; and this remarkable pile of buildings was the result. Philip redeemed his vow, and even did more than this; for, in recognition of the fact that the saint was martyred on a gridiron, he built this monastery in the form of that useful cooking implement. As you see, the structure is in the form of a square; and, within it, seventeen ranges of buildings cross each other at right angles. The towers at each corner are two hundred feet high; and the grand dome in the centre is three hundred and twenty feet high.

“The total length of the building is seven hundred and forty feet, by five hundred and eighty feet wide. It was begun in 1563, when Philip laid the corner-stone with his own hands; and was completed twenty-one years later. It cost, in money of our time, fifteen millions of dollars. It has four thousand windows; though you may see that most of them are rather small. The church, which is properly the chapel of the monastery, is three hundred and seventy-five feet long, and contains forty chapels. The high altar is ninety feet high, and fifty feet wide, and is composed of jasper. Directly under it is the royal tomb, in which are laid the remains of all the sovereigns of Spain from Charles V. to the present time. The Spaniards regard the Escurial as the eighth wonder of the world. It is grand, solemn, and gloomy, like Philip who built it. In the mountain, a mile and a half from the Escurial, is a seat built of granite, which Philip used to occupy while watching the progress of the work.”

The students separated, dividing into parties to suitthemselves. All the available guides were engaged for them; and in a few minutes the interior of the church presented a scene that would have astonished the gloomy Philip if he could have stepped out of his shelf below to look at it, for a hundred young Americans—from the land that Columbus gave to Castile and Leon—was an unusual sight within its cold and deserted walls.

“I suppose you have read the lives of Charles V. and Philip II.,” said Dr. Winstock, as he entered the great building with his young friends.

Both of them had read Robertson and Prescott and Irving; and it was because they were generally well read up that the doctor liked to be with them.

“It isn’t of much use for any one who has not read the life of Philip II. to come here: at least, he would be in the dark all the time,” added the doctor.

“I have seen it stated that Charles V. and his mother, Crazy Jane, both wanted a convent built which should contain a burial-place for the royal family,” said Sheridan.

“That is true. All of them were very pious, and inclined to dwell in convents. Charles V. showed his taste at his abdication by retiring to Yuste,” replied the surgeon.

“The architecture of the building is very plain.”

“Yes,—simple, massive, and grand.”

“Like Philip, as Professor Mapps said.”

“It took him two years to find a suitable spot for the building,” said the doctor.

“I don’t think he could have found a worse one,” laughed Murray.

“But he found just the one he wanted; and he did not select it to suit you and me. Look off at those mountains on the north,—the Guadarramas. They tower above Philip’s mausoleum, but they do not belittle it. The region is rough but grand: it is desolate; but that makes it more solemn and impressive. It is a monastery and a tomb that he built, not a pleasure-house.”

“But he made a royal residence of it,” suggested Murray.

“For the same reason that his father chose to end his days in a monastery. Philip would be a wild fanatic in our day; but he is to be judged by his own time. He was really a king and a monk, as much one as the other. When we go into the room where he died, and where he spent the last days of his life, and recall some of his history there, we shall understand him better. I don’t admire his character, but I am disposed to do justice to him.”

The party entered the church, called in Spanishtemplo: it is three hundred and twenty feet long, and it is the same to the top of the cupola.

“The interior is so well proportioned that you do not get an adequate idea of the size of it,” said the doctor. “Consider that you could put almost any church in our own country into this one, and have plenty of room for its spire under that dome. It is severely plain; but I think it is grand and impressive. The high altar, which I believe the professor did not make as large as it really is, is very rich in marbles and precious stones, and cost about two hundred thousand dollars.”

“That’s enough to build twenty comfortable countrychurches at home,” added Murray. “And this whole building cost money enough to build fifteen thousand handsome churches in any country. Of course there are plenty of beggars in Spain.”

“That is the republican view of the matter,” replied Dr. Winstock. “But the builder of this mighty fabric believed he was serving God acceptably in rearing it; and we must judge him by his motive, and consider the age in which he lived. Observe, as Mr Ford says in his hand-book, that the pantheon, or crypt where the kings are buried, is just under the steps of the high altar: it was so planned by Philip, that the host, when it was elevated, might be above the royal dead. Now we will go into therelicario.”

“I think I have seen about relics enough to last me the rest of my lifetime,” said Sheridan.

“You need not see them if you do not wish to do so,” laughed the surgeon. “This is a tolerably free country just now, and you can do as you please.”

But the captain followed his party.

“The French carried away vast quantities of the treasures of the church when they were engaged in conquering the country. But they left the bones of the saints, which the pious regard as the real treasures. Among other things stolen was a statue presented by the people of Messina to Philip III., weighing two hundred pounds, of solid silver, and holding in its hand a gold vessel weighing twenty-six pounds; besides forty-seven of the richest vases, and a heavy crown set with rubies and other precious stones,” continued Dr. Winstock, consulting a guide-book he carried in his hand. “This book says there are 7,421 relics here now, amongwhich are ten whole bodies, 144 heads, 306 whole legs and arms; here is one of the real bars of the gridiron on which St. Lawrence was martyred, with portions of the broiled flesh upon it; and there is one of his feet, with a piece of coal sticking between the toes.”

“But where did they get that bar of the gridiron?” asked Murray earnestly. “St. Lawrence was broiled in the third century.”

“I don’t know,” replied the doctor. “You must not ask me any questions of that kind, for I cannot answer them.”

The party returned to the church again; and the surgeon called the attention of his companions to the oratorios, one on each side of the altar, which are small rooms for the use of the royal persons when they attend the mass.

“The one on the left is the one used by Philip II.,” added the doctor. “You see the latticed window through which he looked at the priest. Next to it is his cabinet, where he worked and where he died. We shall visit them from the palace.”

After looking at the choir, and examining the bishop’s throne, the party with a dozen others visited the pantheon, or royal tomb. The descent is by a flight of marble steps, and the walls are also of the same material. At the second landing are two doors, that on the left leading to the “pantheon de los infantes,” which is the tomb of those queens who were not mothers of sovereigns of Spain, and of princes who did not sit on the throne. There are sixty bodies here, including Don Carlos, the son of Philip, Don John of Austria, who asked to be buried here as the proper reward forhis services, and other persons whose names are known to history.

After looking at these interesting relics of mortality, the tourists descended to the pantheon, which is a heathenish name to apply to a Christian burial-place erected by one so pious as Philip II. It is octagonal in form, forty-six feet in diameter and thirty-eight feet high. It is built entirely of marble and jasper. It contains an altar of the same stone, where mass is sometimes celebrated. These mortuary chapels were not built by Philip II., who made only plain vaults; but by Philip III. and Philip IV., who did not inherit the taste for simplicity of their predecessor on the throne. Around the tomb are twenty-six niches, all of them made after the same pattern, each containing a sarcophagus, in most of which is the body of a king or queen. On the right of the altar are the kings, and on the left the queens. All of them are labelled with the name of the occupant, as “Carlos V.,” “Filipe II.,” “Fernando VII.,” &c.

“Can it be possible that we see the coffins of Charles V. and Philip II.?” said Sheridan, who was very much impressed by the sight before him.

“There is no doubt of it,” replied the doctor.

“I can hardly believe that the body of Philip II. is in that case,” added the captain. “I see no reason to doubt the fact; but it seems so very strange that I should be looking at the coffin of that cold and cruel king who lived before our country was settled, and of whom I have read so much.”

“I think before you leave Spain you will see something that will impress you even more than this.”

“What is it?”

“I will not mention it yet; for it is better not to anticipate these things. All the kings of Spain from Charles V. are buried here, except Philip V. and Ferdinand VI.”

“What an odd way they have here of spelling Charles and Philip!” said Murray. “These names don’t look quite natural to me.”

“Carlos Quinto is the Spanish for Charles Fifth; and Ferdinand Seventh is Fernando Septimo, as you see on the urn. But our way of writing these things is as odd to the Spaniards as theirs is to us. The late queen and her father, when they came to the Escurial, used to hear mass at midnight in this tomb.”

“That was cheerful,” added Sheridan.

“They had a fancy for that sort of thing. Maria Louisa, Philip’s wife, scratched her name on one of these marble cases with her scissors.”

The party in the pantheon returned to the church to make room for another company to visit it. Dr. Winstock and his friends ascended the grand staircase, and from the top of the building obtained a fine view of the surrounding country, which at this season was as desolate and forbidding as possible. After this they took a survey of the monastery, most of which has the aspect of a barrack. They looked with interest at some of the portraits among the pictures, especially at those of Philip and Charles V. In the library they glanced at the old manuscripts, and at the catalogue in which some of Philip’s handwriting was pointed out to them.

They next went to the palace, which is certainly amean abode for a king, though it was improved and adorned by some of the builder’s successors. Philip asked only a cell in the house he had erected and consecrated to God; and so he made the palace very simple and plain. Some of the long and narrow rooms are adorned with tapestries on the walls; but there is nothing in the palace to detain the visitor beyond a few minutes, except the apartments of Philip II. They are two small rooms, hardly more than six feet wide. One of them is Philip’s cabinet, where he worked on affairs of state; and the other is the oratory, where he knelt at the little latticed window which commanded a view of the priests at the high altar of the church. The old table at which he wrote, the chair in which he sat, and the footstool on which he placed his gouty leg, are still there. The doctor, who had been here before, pointed them out to the students.

“It almost seems as though he had just left the place,” said Sheridan. “I don’t see how a great king could be content to spend his time in such a gloomy den as this.”

“It was his own fancy, and he made his own nest to suit himself,” replied the doctor. “He was writing at that table when the loss of the invincible armada was announced to him. It is said he did not move a muscle, though he had wasted eighteen years of his life and a hundred million ducats upon the fleet and the scheme. He was kneeling at the window when Don John of Austria came in great haste to tell him of the victory of Lepanto; but he was not allowed to see the king till the latter had finished his devotions.”

“He was a cool old fellow,” added Murray.

“When he was near the end, he caused himself to be carried in a litter all over the wonderful building he had erected, that he might take a last look at the work of his hands,” continued the doctor. “He was finally brought to this place, where he received extreme unction; and, having taken leave of his family, he died, grasping the crucifix which his father had held in his last moments.”

The party passed out of the buildings, and gave some time to the gardens and grounds of the Escurial. There are some trees, a few of them the spindling and ghostly-looking Lombardy poplars; but, beyond the immediate vicinity of the “eighth wonder,” the country is desolate and wild, without a tree to vary the monotony of the scene. The doctor led the way down the hill to theCasita del Principe, which is a sort of miniature palace, built for Charles IV. when he was a boy. It is a pretty toy, containing thirty-three rooms, all of them of reduced size, and with furniture on the same scale. It contains some fine pictures and other works of art.

The tourists dined, and devoted the rest of the day to wandering about in the vicinity of the village. Some of them walked up to theSilla del Rey, or king’s chair, where Philip overlooked the work on the Escurial. At five o’clock the ship’s company took the slow train, and arrived at Madrid at half-past seven, using up two hours and a half in going thirty-two miles.

“I am sorry it is too dark for you to see the country,” said the doctor, after the train started.

“Why, sir, is it very fine?” asked Sheridan.

“On the contrary, it is, I think, the most desolateregion on the face of the globe; with hardly a village, not a tree, nothing but rocks to be seen. It reminds me of some parts of Maine and New Hampshire, where they have to sharpen the sheep’s noses to enable them to feed among the rocks. The people are miserable and half savage; and it is said that many of them are clothed in sheepskins, and live in burrows in the ground, for the want of houses; but I never saw any thing of this kind, though I know that some of the gypsys in the South dwell in caves in the sides of the hills. Agriculture is at the lowest ebb, though Spain produces vast quantities of the most excellent qualities of grain. Like a portion of our own country, the numerous valleys are very fertile, though in the summer the streams of this part of Spain are all dried up. The gypsys camp in the bed of the Manzanares, at Madrid. Alexandre Dumas and his son went to a bull-fight at the capital. The son was faint, as you may be, and a glass of water was brought to him. After taking a swallow, he handed the rest to the waiter, saying, ‘Portez cela au Manzanares: cela lui fera plaisir.’ (Carry that to the Manzanares: it will give it pleasure).”

“Good for Dumas,fils!” exclaimed Murray.

“There is a prejudice against trees in Spain. The peasants will not plant them, or suffer them to grow, except those that bear fruit; because they afford habitations for the birds which eat up their grain. Timber and wood for fuel are therefore very scarce and very dear in this part of the country. But this region was not always so barren and desolate as it is now. In the wars with the Moors, both armies began by cutting down the trees and burning the villages. More ofthis desolation, however, was caused by a very remarkable privilege, called themesta, granted to certain of the nobility. It gave them the right of pasturage over vast territories, including the Castiles, Estremadura, and La Mancha. It came to be a legal right, and permitted immense flocks of sheep to roam across the country twice a year, in the spring and autumn. In the time of Philip II., the wandering flocks of sheep were estimated at from seven to eight millions. They devoured every thing before them in the shape of grass and shrubs. This privilege was not abolished till 1825.”

“I should think Philip and the rest of the kings who lived at the Escurial would have had a nice time in going to and from the capital,” said Sheridan. “He did not have a palace-car on the railroad in those days.”

“After Philip’s day they did not live there a great deal of the time, not so much because it was inconvenient as because it was a gloomy and cheerless place. They used to make it a rule to spend six weeks of the year there; though the last of the sovereigns did not live there at all, I believe. But they had good roads and good carriages for their time. The Spaniards do not make many roads; but what they do make are first-class. I am sorry we do not go to Segovia, though there is not much there except the cathedral and the Roman aqueduct, which is a fine specimen. But you have seen plenty of these things. Six miles from Segovia is La Granja, or the Grange, which is sometimes called the palace of San Ildefonso. It is areal sitio, or royal residence, built by Philip V. It is a summerretreat, in the midst of pine forests four thousand feet above the sea-level. We went through Valladolid in the night. Columbus died there, you remember; and Philip II. was born there; but there is nothing of great interest to be seen in the city.”

When the train arrived at Madrid, a lot of small omnibuses, holding about eight persons each, were waiting for the company; and they were driven to thePuerta del Sol, where the principal hotels are located. Half of the party went to theGrand Hotel de Paris, and the other half to theHotel de los Principes. Dr. Winstock and hisprotégéswere quartered at the former.

On shore no distinction was made between officers and seamen, and no better rooms were given to the former than to the latter. As two students occupied one wide bed, they were allowed to pair off for this purpose. It so happened that the captain and the first lieutenant had one of the worst rooms in the house. After they had gone up two pairs of stairs, a sign on the wall informed them that they had reached the first story; and four more brought them to the seven-by-nine chamber, with a brick floor, which they were to occupy. The furniture was very meagre.

In Spain hotels charge by the day, the price being regulated by the size and location of the room. Such as that we have just described was thirty-fivereales. A good sized inside room, two flights nearer the earth, was fiftyreales, with an increase of fiverealesfor an outside room looking into the street. The table was the same for all the guests. The price per day varies from thirty to sixtyrealesin Spain, forty being themost common rate at the best hotels out of Madrid. From two to fourrealesa day is charged for attendance, and one or two for candles. Two dollars a day is therefore about the average rate. Only two meals a day are served for this price,—a breakfast at ten or eleven, and dinner at six.

It is the fashion in Spain, for an individual or company to conduct several hotels in different cities. The Fallola brothers run the grand Hotel de Paris in Madrid, the ones with the same name in Seville and in Cadiz, and the Hotel Suiza in Cordova; and they are the highest-priced hotels on the peninsula, and doubtless the best. The company that manages the Hotel de Los Principes in Madrid also have the Rizzi in Cordova, the Londres in Seville, the Cadiz in Cadiz, and the Siete Suelos in Granada, in which the prices are more moderate. The Hotel Washington Irving at Granada, and the Alameda in Malaga, are under the same management, and charge forty-four and fortyrealesa day respectively, besides service and lights. Though Spain is said to be an expensive country to live in, these prices in 1870 were only about half those charged in the United States.

Railroad fares are about two cents and a half a mile, second class; and about a third higher, first class. A one-horse carriage for two costs forty cents an hour in Madrid; and for four persons, two horses, fifty cents. A very handsome carriage, with driver and footman in livery, may be had for five dollars a day.

After supper the students walked about thePuerta del Sol, and took their first view of the capital of Spain.

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