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of envy, those of pity and respect. It gives an air of decorum and modesty, and softens an indifferent skin. Every one in England has been struck with the air of respectability which mourning confers even on ladies' maids. The prevalence of black veils and dark cloaks on the Alameda and in the church conveys to the newly arrived stranger the idea of a population of nuns and clergymen. As far as woman is concerned, the dress is so becoming that the difficulty is to look ugly in it; hence, in spite of the monotony, we are pleased with a uniformity which becomes all alike; those who cannot see its merits should lose no time in consulting their oculist.

The beauty of the Spanish women is much exaggerated, at least as far as features and complexion are concerned: more loveliness is to be seen in one fine day in Regent Street than in a year in Spain. Their charm consists in symmetry of form, natural grace of manner and expression, and not a little, as in the case of a carp, or Raie au beurre noir, in the dressing; yet, such is the tyranny of fashion, that these women are willing to risk the substance for the shadow, and to strive, instead of remaining inimitable originals, to become second-rate copies.

The veil, which completely covered the back of the head, is thrown apart in front; but a partial concealmeat of the features is thought, in ancient days as now, to be an ornament (Strabo, iii. 249). This concealment evidently is of Oriental origin, as in the East a woman will show anything rather than her face, for points of honour are conventional; nor is the custom quite obsolete in Andalucia.'-pp. 196, 197.

We shall be excused for having transcribed passages likely, while affording fair specimens of Mr. Ford's manner of observing and writing, to interest equally those who do and those who do not contemplate a visit to Spain. On the same principle we must give a bit of his chapter on Spanish wines, and take the wine of Xeres-Sherry :

This wine was first known in England about the time of our Henry VII. It became popular under Elizabeth, when those who under Essex sacked Cadiz brought home the fashion of good "sherris sack." The wine is still called on the spot " Seco," in contradistinction to the sweet malvoisies and pajaretes of Xerez. The Spaniards scarcely know sherry beyond its immediate vicinity. More is drunk at Gibraltar, as the red faces of the red coats evince, than in Madrid, Toledo, Salamanca, and Valladolid. Sherry is, in fact, a foreign wine, and made and drunk by foreigners; nor do the generality of Spaniards like its strength, and still less its high price. At Seville, in the best houses, one glass only is handed round. It is very dear and costs half a dollar a bottle on the spot. Pure genuine sherry, from ten to twelve years old, is worth from 50 to 80 guineas per butt, in the shop, and when freight, insurance, duty, and charges are added, will stand the importer from 100 to 130 guineas in his cellar. A butt will run from 108 to 112 gallons, and the duty is 5s. 6d. per gallon. Such a butt will bottle about 52 dozen. The reader will now appreciate the bargains of those "pale" and "golden sherries" advertised at "36s. the dozen, bottles included."

They

They are maris expers, although much indebted to Thames water, Cape wine, French brandy, and Devonshire cider.

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Sherry is a purely artificial wine, and when perfect is made up from many different butts: the entire" is in truth the result of Xerez grapes, but of many sorts and varieties of flavour. Thus one barrel corrects another, by addition or subtraction, until the proposed standard aggregate is produced. All this is managed by the Capataz or head man, who is usually a Montanes from the Asturian mountains, and often becomes the real master of his nominal master, whom he cheats, as well as the grower. Some make large fortunes: one died recently worth 300,000l. The whole system is cheerfully explained, as there is no mystery; nor, provided a satisfactory beverage be produced, can it much signify whether the process be natural or artificial: all champagne, to a certain degree, is a manufacture.'—pp. 232, 233.

Thus opens a luculent Essay on Cigars :

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"The manufactory of the cigar is the only active one carried on in the Peninsula. The buildings are palaces; witness Seville, Malaga, and Valencia. As a cigar is a sine quâ non in a Spaniard's mouth, it must have its page in a Spanish Handbook. Ponz (ix. 201) remarks, "You will think me tiresome with my tobacconistical details, but the vast bulk of my readers will be more pleased with it than with an account of all the pictures in the world." "The fact is, Squire," says Sam Slick, "the moment a man takes to a pipe, he becomes a philosopher; it is the poor man's friend; it calms the mind, soothes the temper, and makes a man patient under trouble," and hunger, heat, and despotism, he might have added. Can it be wondered at that the Oriental and Spanish population should cling to this relief from whips and scorns, and the oppressor's wrong? "Quoique puisse dire," said Molière, "Aristote et toute la philosophie, il n'y a rien d'égal au tabac." The divine Isaac Barrow resorted to this panpharmacon whenever he wished to collect his thoughts; Sir Walter Raleigh, the patron of Virginia, smoked a pipe just before he lost his head, "at which some formal people were scandalized; but," adds Aubrey, "I think it was properly done to settle his spirits."

In Spain, the Bourbon dynasty (as elsewhere) is the hereditary tobacconist-general; the privilege is generally farmed out to some contractor: accordingly, no such thing as a really good home-made cigar is to be had for love or money in the Peninsula. There is no royal road to the science of cigar-making; the article is badly made, of bad materials, and, to add insult to injury, charged at a most exorbitant price. In order to benefit the Havana, tobacco is not allowed to be grown in Spain, which it would do in perfection in the neighbourhood of Malaga; the experiment was made, and having turned out quite successful, the cultivation was immediately prohibited. The badness and dearness of the royal tobacco favours the well-meaning smuggler; this. great corrector of blundering chancellors of exchequers provides a better. and cheaper thing from Gibraltar.

The rich alone can afford to smoke good ones. Ferdinand VII, unlike his ancestor Louis XIV., “qui," says La Beaumelle, "haïssait le tabac singulièrement,

singulièrement, quoiqu'un de ses meilleurs revenus," was not only a great manufacturer but consumer thereof. He indulged in the royal extravagance of Purones, a very large thick cigar made expressly for his gracious use in the Havana. He was too good a judge to smoke his own manufacture. Even of these he seldom smoked more than the half; the remainder was a grand perquisite-palace lights. The cigar was one of his pledges of love and hatred: he would give them to his favourites; and often, when meditating a treacherous coup, he would dismiss the unconscious victim with a royal cigar: and when the happy individual got home to smoke it he was saluted by an Alguacil with an order to quit Madrid in twenty-four hours.

"On the Prados and Alamedas urchins always are running about with a slowly burning rope for the benefit of the public. At many of the sheds where water and lemonade are sold, one of these ropes, twirled like a snake round a post, and ignited, is as ready for fire, as the match of a besieged artilleryman. In the houses of the affluent a small silver chafing-dish, pruna batillum, with lighted charcoal, is usually on a table. Mr. Henningsen, chap. 10, relates that Zumalacarreguy, when about to execute some Christinos at Villa Franca, observed one (a schoolmaster) looking about, like Raleigh, for a light for his last dying puff in this life. The general took his own cigar from his mouth, and handed it to him. The schoolmaster lighted his own, returned the other with a respectful bow, and went away smoking and reconciled to be shot. This necessity of a light levels all ranks; it is allowable to stop any person for fire, "fuego," ""candela." The cigar forms the bond of union, an isthmus of communication between most heterogeneous oppositions. It is the habeas corpus of Spanish liberties. The soldier takes fire from the canon's lip; the dark face of the humble labourer is whitened by the reflection of the cigar of the grandee and lounger.'-pp. 197-99.

We have quoted chiefly from the general notices prefixed to the various sections of the Hand-book. This was natural, considering our purposes and our space; yet we feel that we leave our readers without any notion of what very many even of Mr. Ford's library readers will ultimately pronounce the most delightful characteristic of his work-the singular felicity with which he brings his very uncommon stores of knowledge and reflection and illustration-his queer as well as elegant learning, classical, mediæval, historical, artistical, poetical-to bear upon some definite locality. We find ourselves associated with the very beauidéal of a cicerone-one who knows everything that can enhance the interest of the passing wanderer, and yet tells it all with fresh animation-one in whose keeping nothing of the spirit has been suffered to evaporate. Never was life-long research poured out with more of the pretensionless facility of the first-rate table companion.

We must give one specimen of the Hand-book proper the staple of the work and we select the page on St. Yuste, which

few

few Englishmen have ever visited, and, as we believe, no Eng lishman ever before described. This celebrated convent, the final retreat of Charles V., lies on the south-west slope of the Sierra de Vera, distant seven leagues from Placentia, and about a seven hours pleasant ride. Once at Placentia, whether Madrid or Salamanca be your point, you ought on no account to deny yourself this excursion:

'Cross the Xerte, and ascend the steep Calzones, thence through olives and vineyards to the Vera or valley, which is some nine leagues in extent; after four leagues of dehesas y matos the road ascends to the left to Pasaron, a picturesque old town of Prout-like houses, toppling balconies hanging over a brawling brook. Observe a palace of the Arcos family. The road next clambers up a steep hill, amid fruit-trees of every kind. As we rode on our cheerful companions were groups of sunburnt daughters of labour, whose only dower was health and cheerfulness, who were carrying on their heads in baskets the frugal dinner of the vine-dressers. Springy and elastic was their sandaled step, un fettered by shoe or stocking, and light-hearted their laugh and song, the chorus of the sheer gaiety of youth full of health and void of care. These pretty creatures, although they did not know it, were performing an opera ballet in action and costume: how gay their short sayas of serges red, green, and yellow; how primitive the cross on their bosoms, how graceful the pañuelo on their heads: thus they tripped wantonly away under the long-leaved chesnuts. Now the beautiful Vera expands, with the yellow line of the Badajoz road running across the cistus-clad distance to Miravete: soon the Jeronomite convent appears to the left, nestling in woods about half-way up the mountain, which shelters devo→ tion from the wind. Below is the farm Magdalena, where in the worst case the night may be passed; ascend to the monastery, keeping close to a long wall. This Spanish Spalatro, to which the gout-worn empiresick Charles retired to barter crowns for rosaries away, was founded in 1404, on the site where a covey of fourteen Gothic bishops had been killed at one fell swoop by the Moors. Charles sent his son Philip (when on his way to England to marry our amiable Mary) to inspect this place, which he had years before noted as a nest for his old age: he himself planned, when in Flanders, the additional buildings, which were erected by Antonio de Villa Castin, and they lie to the warm south-west of the chapel; but on the 9th of August, 1809, dies carbone notanda, two hundred of Soult's foragers clambered up and pillaged and burnt the convent, leaving it a blackened roofless ruin. The precious archives were then consumed, all except one volume of documents, written in 1620 by Fray Luis de S. Maria. This the prior was consulting about some rights disputed by the Cuacos peasants, and seeing the enemy threw it into some bushes. That book he lent us to read; now it no doubt is lost.

'Here we met also Fray Alonzo Cavallero, an aged monk, who took the cowl October 17, 1778, and remembered Ponz and his visit. The convent is entered by the walnut-tree under which Charles used to sit,

and

and which even then was called El nogal grande. Passing to the Botica, all the few vases which escaped the French were carried off in 1820 by one Morales, a liberal apothecary, for his own shop in Garandilla. The granite-built chapel, from its thick walls, resisted the fire of the invaders, thus saving the imperial quarter to be finally gutted by the Constitutionalists. A door to the right of the altar opened to Charles's room, whence he came out to attend divine service: his bedroom, where he died, has a window through which, when ill, he could see the elevation of the Host. Here hung the Gloria of Titian, which, in his will, he directed to be placed wherever his body was, and which was moved with it to the Escorial. Philip II., however, sent a copy to S". Yuste, which was carried off to Texada by the patriots, in 1823: when the monks returned, they were too poor even to pay for bringing it back. The Coro Alto was carved in a quaint tedesque style by Rodrigo Aleman. In a vault below the high altar is the rude chest in which the Emperor's body was kept sixteen years, until removed in 1574. 'He built only four rooms- each, as usual, with large fireplaces, for he was a gouty and phlegmatic Fleming. From the projecting alcoves the views are delicious. At the west end is a pillared gallery, La Plaza del Palacio, overhanging a private garden; and connected with it is a raised archway, el Puente, by which the Emperor went down. Below is the sun-dial, erected for him by Juanuelo Turriano. He was brought here by the Emperor, who was fond of mechanical experiments. The stone step by which he mounted his horse yet remains, and here he was seated when he felt the first approach of death, as an inscription records :-" Su Magestad el Emperador Don Carlos quinto Nuestro Señor, en este lugar estava asentado quando le dió el mal, a los treinta y uno de Agosto a las quatro de la tarde: falleció a los 24 [?] de Septembre a las dos y media de la mañana, año de N°. Sr. 1558.' He arrived there, Wednesday, February 3, 1557, at one in the afternoon, and died September 21 of the next year, of premature old age, and dropping like the ripe fruit from the shaken tree. He gave the convent nothing but the honour of his company; his major-domo, Luis de Quixada (who was afterwards killed by the Moriscos, near Granada), having of course, like a true Spanish unjust steward, stripped the rooms of everything portable. Philip II. came here again in 1570, and remained two days. He refused to sleep in the room where his father died. Guardando el respeto al aposento en que murió sa padre, no queriendo dormir sino en el retrete del mismo aposento, y tan estrecho que apenas cabe una cama pequeña." So it was recorded in the old book; Δειναι γαρ κοιται και αποιχούμενοιο λεοντος. He, too, did little for the monks; and when they begged of him, replied, "You never could have had my father here a year without feathering your nest."

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'The larger pleasure-grounds lay on the other side. Nature has now resumed her sway, yet many a flower shows that once a garden smiled. A myrtle and box edge leads to El cenador de Belem (Bethelem). This exquisite gem of a cinque-cento summer-house remained perfect, until destroyed, like Abadia and Aranjuez, by Soult's anti-horticultural troops.

'Charles

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