There are many Roman remains in the vicinity of this place, the most remarkable of which are the ruins of the ancient medicinal baths, which stand on the southern side of the river Minho, which creeps through the valley beneath the town.  The Minho in this place is a dark and sullen stream, with high, precipitous, and thickly wooded banks.

One evening I visited the baths, accompanied by my friend the bookseller.  They had been built over warm springs which flow into the river.  Notwithstanding their ruinous condition, they were crowded with sick, hoping to derive benefit from the waters, which are still famed for their sanative power.  These patients exhibited a strange spectacle as, wrapped in flannel gowns much resembling shrouds, they lay immersed in the tepid waters amongst disjointed stones, and overhung with steam and reek.

Three or four days after my arrival I was seated in the corridor which, as I have already observed, occupied the entire front of the house.  The sky was unclouded, and the sun shone most gloriously, enlivening every object around.  Presently the door of the apartment in which the strangers were lodged opened, and forth walked the whole family, with the exception of the father, who, I presumed, was absent on business.  The shabby domestic brought up the rear, and on leaving the apartment, carefully locked the door, and secured the key in his pocket.  The one son and the eleven daughters were all dressed remarkably well:  the boy something after the English fashion, in jacket and trousers, the young ladies in spotless white:  they were, upon the whole, a very good-looking family, with dark eyes and olive complexions, but the eldest daughter was remarkably handsome.  They arranged themselves upon the benches of the corridor, the shabby domestic sitting down amongst them without any ceremony whatever.  They continued for some time in silence, gazing with disconsolate looks upon the houses of the suburb and the dark walls of the town, until the eldest daughter, or senorita as she was called, broke silence with an “Ay Dios mio!”

Domestic.—­Ay Dios mio! we have found our way to a pretty country.

Myself.—­I really can see nothing so very bad in the country, which is by nature the richest in all Spain, and the most abundant.  True it is that the generality of the inhabitants are wretchedly poor, but they themselves are to blame, and not the country.

Domestic.—­Cavalier, the country is a horrible one, say nothing to the contrary.  We are all frightened, the young ladies, the young gentleman, and myself; even his worship is frightened, and says that we are come to this country for our sins.  It rains every day, and this is almost the first time that we have seen the sun since our arrival, it rains continually, and one cannot step out without being up to the ankles in fango; and then, again, there is not a house to be found.

Myself.—­I scarcely understand you.  There appears to be no lack of houses in this neighbourhood.