was much hubbub, shouting, and trampling, at the end of which period the order was given to proceed.  Scarcely had we left the village when the flambeaux were extinguished, and we were left in almost total darkness; for some time we were amongst woods and trees, as was evident from the rustling of leaves on every side.  My horse was very uneasy and neighed fearfully, occasionally raising himself bolt upright.  “If your horse is not more quiet, cavalier, we shall be obliged to shoot him,” said a voice in an Andalusian accent; “he disturbs the whole cavalcade.”  “That would be a pity, sergeant,” I replied, “for he is a Cordovese by the four sides; he is not used to the ways of this barbarous country.”  “Oh, he is a Cordovese,” said the voice, “vaya, I did not know that; I am from Cordova myself.  Pobrecito! let me pat him—­yes, I know by his coat that he is my countryman—­shoot him, indeed! vaya, I would fain see the Gallegan devil who would dare to harm him.  Barbarous country, io lo creo:  neither oil nor olives, bread nor barley.  You have been at Cordova.  Vaya; oblige me, cavalier, by taking this cigar.”

In this manner we proceeded for several hours, up hill and down dale, but generally at a very slow pace.  The soldiers who escorted us from time to time sang patriotic songs, breathing love and attachment to the young Queen Isabel, and detestation of the grim tyrant Carlos.  One of the stanzas which reached my ears, ran something in the following style:-

“Don Carlos is a hoary churl,
Of cruel heart and cold;
But Isabel’s a harmless girl,
Of only six years old.”

At last the day began to break, and I found myself amidst a train of two or three hundred people, some on foot, but the greater part mounted, either on mules or the pony mares:  I could not distinguish a single horse except my own and Antonio’s.  A few soldiers were thinly scattered along the road.  The country was hilly, but less mountainous and picturesque than the one which we had traversed the preceding day; it was for the most part partitioned into small fields, which were planted with maize.  At the distance of every two or three leagues we changed our escort, at some village where was stationed a detachment.  The villages were mostly an assemblage of wretched cabins; the roofs were thatched, dank, and moist, and not unfrequently covered with rank vegetation.  There were dunghills before the doors, and no lack of pools and puddles.  Immense swine were stalking about, intermingled with naked children.  The interior of the cabins corresponded with their external appearance:  they were filled with filth and misery.