A huge bowl of coffee was then called for, which was placed upon a table, around which gathered the national soldiers:  there was silence for a moment, which was interrupted by a voice roaring out, “el panuelo!” A blue kerchief was forthwith produced, which appeared to contain a substance of some kind; it was untied, and a gory hand and three or four dissevered fingers made their appearance, and with these the contents of the bowl were stirred up.  “Cups! cups!” cried the nationals.

“Ho, ho, Don Jorge,” cried Baltasarito, coming up to me with a cup of coffee, “pray do me the favour to drink upon this glorious occasion.  This is a pleasant day for Spain, and for the gallant nationals of Madrid.  I have seen many a bull funcion, but none which has given me so much pleasure as this.  Yesterday the brute had it all his own way, but to-day the toreros have prevailed, as you see, Don Jorge.  Pray drink; for I must now run home to fetch my pajandi to play my brethren a tune, and sing a copla.  What shall it be?  Something in Gitano?

“Una noche sinava en tucue.”

You shake your head, Don Jorge.  Ha, ha; I am young, and youth is the time for pleasure; well, well, out of compliment to you, who are an Englishman and a monro, it shall not be that, but something liberal, something patriotic, the Hymn of Riego—­Hasta despues, Don Jorge!”

CHAPTER XV

The Steamer—­Cape Finisterre—­The Storm—­Arrival at Cadiz—­The New Testament—­Seville—­Italica—­The Amphitheatre—­The Prisoners—­The Encounter—­Baron Taylor—­The Street and Desert.

At the commencement of November, I again found myself on the salt water, on my way to Spain.  I had returned to England shortly after the events which have been narrated in the last chapter, for the purpose of consulting with my friends, and for planning the opening of a biblical campaign in Spain.  It was now determined by us to print the New Testament, with as little delay as possible, at Madrid; and I was to be entrusted with the somewhat arduous task of its distribution.  My stay in England was very short, for time was precious, and I was eager to return to the field of action.

I embarked in the Thames, on board the M- steamer.  We had a most unpleasant passage to Falmouth; the ship was crowded with passengers, most of them poor consumptive individuals, and other invalids fleeing from the cold blasts of England’s winter to the sunny shores of Portugal and Madeira.  In a more uncomfortable vessel, especially steam ship, it has never been my fate to make a voyage.  The berths were small and insupportably close, and of these wretched holes mine was amongst the worst, the rest having been bespoken before I arrived on board; so that to avoid the suffocation which seemed to threaten me should I enter it, I lay upon the floor of one of the cabins throughout the voyage.  We remained at Falmouth twenty-four hours, taking in coal, and repairing the engine, which had sustained considerable damage.