“Mirad que Santiguo! que Santiguo de los demonios!” {15} exclaimed many voices, whilst for fear of consequences we hastened away.

The day was exceedingly hot, and we wended our way slowly along the plains of Old Castile.  With all that pertains to Spain, vastness and sublimity are associated:  grand are its mountains, and no less grand are its plains, which seem of boundless extent, but which are not tame unbroken flats, like the steppes of Russia.  Rough and uneven ground is continually occurring:  here a deep ravine and gully worn by the wintry torrent; yonder an eminence not unfrequently craggy and savage, at whose top appears the lone solitary village.  There is little that is blithesome and cheerful, but much that is melancholy.  A few solitary rustics are occasionally seen toiling in the fields—­fields without limit or boundary, where the green oak, the elm or the ash are unknown; where only the sad and desolate pine displays its pyramid-like form, and where no grass is to be found.  And who are the travellers of these districts?  For the most part arrieros, with their long trains of mules hung with monotonous tinkling bells.  Behold them with their brown faces, brown dresses, and broad slouched hats;—­the arrieros, the true lords of the roads of Spain, and to whom more respect is paid in these dusty ways than to dukes and condes;—­the arrieros, sullen, proud, and rarely courteous, whose deep voices may be sometimes heard at the distance of a mile, either cheering the sluggish animals, or shortening the dreary way with savage and dissonant songs.

Late in the afternoon, we reached Medina del Campo, formerly one of the principal cities of Spain, though at present an inconsiderable place.  Immense ruins surround it in every direction, attesting the former grandeur of this “city of the plain.”  The great square or market-place is a remarkable spot, surrounded by a heavy massive piazza, over which rise black buildings of great antiquity.  We found the town crowded with people awaiting the fair, which was to be held in a day or two.  We experienced some difficulty in obtaining admission into the posada, which was chiefly occupied by Catalans from Valladolid.  These people not only brought with them their merchandise but their wives and children.  Some of them appeared to be people of the worst description:  there was one in particular, a burly savage-looking fellow, of about forty, whose conduct was atrocious; he sat with his wife, or perhaps concubine, at the door of a room which opened upon the court:  he was continually venting horrible and obscene oaths, both in Spanish and Catalan.  The woman was remarkably handsome, but robust and seemingly as savage as himself; her conversation likewise was as frightful as his own.  Both seemed to be under the influence of an incomprehensible fury.  At last, upon some observation from the woman, he started up, and drawing a long knife from his girdle, stabbed at her naked bosom; she, however,