The vessel being repaired, we again embarked, and in two days arrived in safety at Cadiz.  I found great confusion reigning there; numerous bands of the factious were reported to be hovering in the neighbourhood.  An attack was not deemed improbable, and the place had just been declared in a state of siege.  I took up my abode at the French hotel in the Calle de la Niveria, and was allotted a species of cockloft, or garret, to sleep in, for the house was filled with guests, being a place of much resort, on account of the excellent table d’hote which is kept there.  I dressed myself and walked about the town.  I entered several coffee-houses:  the din of tongues in all was deafening.  In one no less than six orators were haranguing at the same time on the state of the country, and the probability of an intervention on the part of England and France.  As I was listening to one of them, he suddenly called upon me for my opinion, as I was a foreigner, and seemingly just arrived.  I replied that I could not venture to guess what steps the two governments would pursue under the present circumstances, but thought that it would be as well if the Spaniards would exert themselves more and call less on Jupiter.  As I did not wish to engage in any political conversation, I instantly quitted the house, and sought those parts of the town where the lower classes principally reside.

I entered into discourse with several individuals, but found them very ignorant; none could read or write, and their ideas respecting religion were anything but satisfactory,—­most professing a perfect indifference.  I afterwards went into a bookseller’s shop and made inquiries respecting the demand for literature, which, he informed me, was small.  I produced a London edition of the New Testament in Spanish, and asked the bookseller whether he thought a book of that description would sell in Cadiz.  He said that both the type and paper were exceedingly beautiful, but that it was a work not sought after, and very little known.  I did not pursue my inquiries in other shops, for I reflected that I was not likely to receive a very favourable opinion from booksellers respecting a publication in which they had no interest.  I had, moreover, but two or three copies of the New Testament with me, and could not have supplied them had they even given me an order.

Early on the twenty-fourth, I embarked for Seville in the small Spanish steamer the Betis:  the morning was wet, and the aspect of nature was enveloped in a dense mist, which prevented my observing surrounding objects.  After proceeding about six leagues, we reached the north-eastern extremity of the Bay of Cadiz, and passed by Saint Lucar, an ancient town near to the spot where the Guadalquivir disembogues itself.  The mist suddenly disappeared, and the sun of Spain burst forth in full brilliancy, enlivening all around, and particularly myself, who had till then been lying on the deck in a dull melancholy stupor.