He was a thin spare man, of about sixty-five, and was dressed in a black cloak of very coarse materials; nor were his other garments of superior quality.  This plainness, however, in the appearance of his outward man was by no means the result of poverty; quite the contrary.  The benefice was a very plentiful one, and placed at his disposal annually a sum of at least eight hundred dollars, of which the eighth part was more than sufficient to defray the expenses of his house and himself; the rest was devoted entirely to the purest acts of charity.  He fed the hungry wanderer, and despatched him singing on his way, with meat in his wallet and a peseta in his purse; and his parishioners, when in need of money, had only to repair to his study, and were sure of an immediate supply.  He was, indeed, the banker of the village, and what he lent he neither expected nor wished to be returned.  Though under the necessity of making frequent journeys to Salamanca, he kept no mule, but contented himself with an ass, borrowed from the neighbouring miller.  ’I once kept a mule,’ said he; ’but some years since it was removed without my permission by a traveller whom I had housed for the night:  for in that alcove I keep two clean beds for the use of the wayfaring, and I shall be very much pleased if yourself and friend will occupy them, and tarry with me till the morning.’

* * * * *

‘What mountains are those?’ I inquired of a barber-surgeon who, mounted like myself on a grey burra, joined me about noon, and proceeded in my company for several leagues.  ‘They have many names, Caballero,’ replied the barber; ’according to the names of the neighbouring places, so they are called.  Yon portion of them is styled the Serrania of Plasencia; and opposite to Madrid they are termed the Mountains of Guadarrama, from a river of that name, which descends from them.  They run a vast way, Caballero, and separate the two kingdoms, for on the other side is Old Castile.  They are mighty mountains, and, though they generate much cold, I take pleasure in looking at them, which is not to be wondered at, seeing that I was born amongst them, though at present, for my sins, I live in a village of the plain.  Caballero, there is not another such range in Spain; they have their secrets, too—­their mysteries.  Strange tales are told of those hills, and of what they contain in their deep recesses, for they are a broad chain, and you may wander days and days amongst them without coming to any termino.  Many have lost themselves on those hills, and have never again been heard of.  Strange things are told of them:  it is said that in certain places there are deep pools and lakes, in which dwell monsters, huge serpents as long as a pine tree, and horses of the flood, which sometimes come out and commit mighty damage.  One thing is certain, that yonder, far away to the west, in the heart of those hills, there is a wonderful valley, so narrow that only at mid-day is the face of the