Benedict.—­He advised me to go to the Captain General and obtain permission to make excavations, in which case he promised to assist me to the utmost of his power.

Thereupon the Swiss departed, and I neither saw nor heard anything farther of him during the time that I continued at Saint James.

The bookseller was never weary of showing me about his native town, of which he was enthusiastically fond.  Indeed, I have never seen the spirit of localism, which is so prevalent throughout Spain, more strong than at Saint James.  If their town did but flourish, the Santiagians seemed to care but little if all others in Galicia perished.  Their antipathy to the town of Coruna was unbounded, and this feeling had of late been not a little increased from the circumstance that the seat of the provincial government had been removed from Saint James to Coruna.  Whether this change was advisable or not, it is not for me, who am a foreigner, to say; my private opinion, however, is by no means favourable to the alteration.  Saint James is one of the most central towns in Galicia, with large and populous communities on every side of it, whereas Coruna stands in a corner, at a considerable distance from the rest.  “It is a pity that the vecinos of Coruna cannot contrive to steal away from us our cathedral, even as they have done our government,” said a Santiagian; “then, indeed, they would be able to cut some figure.  As it is, they have not a church fit to say mass in.”  “A great pity, too, that they cannot remove our hospital,” would another exclaim; “as it is, they are obliged to send us their sick, poor wretches.  I always think that the sick of Coruna have more ill-favoured countenances than those from other places; but what good can come from Coruna?”

Accompanied by the bookseller, I visited this hospital, in which, however, I did not remain long; the wretchedness and uncleanliness which I observed speedily driving me away.  Saint James, indeed, is the grand lazar-house for all the rest of Galicia, which accounts for the prodigious number of horrible objects to be seen in its streets, who have for the most part arrived in the hope of procuring medical assistance, which, from what I could learn, is very scantily and inefficiently administered.  Amongst these unhappy wretches I occasionally observed the terrible leper, and instantly fled from him with a “God help thee,” as if I had been a Jew of old.  Galicia is the only province of Spain where cases of leprosy are still frequent; a convincing proof this, that the disease is the result of foul feeding, and an inattention to cleanliness, as the Gallegans, with regard to the comforts of life and civilized habits, are confessedly far behind all the other natives of Spain.