my face, gave a loud laugh, a long leap, and clapped his hands thrice above his head.  Perceiving that he did not understand me, I repeated my demand in French, and was again answered by the laugh, leap, and clapping.  At last he said in broken Spanish, “Master mine, speak Spanish in God’s name, and I can understand you, and still better if you speak Gallegan, but I can promise no more.  I heard what the alquilador told you, but he is the greatest embustero in the whole land, and deceived you then as he did when he promised to accompany you.  I serve him for my sins; but it was an evil hour when I left the deep sea and turned guide.”  He then informed me that he was a native of Padron, and a mariner by profession, having spent the greater part of his life in the Spanish navy, in which service he had visited Cuba and many parts of the Spanish Americas, adding, “when my master told you that I should bear you pleasant company by the way, it was the only word of truth that has come from his mouth for a month; and long before you reach Finisterra you will have rejoiced that the servant, and not the master, went with you:  he is dull and heavy, but I am what you see.”  He then gave two or three first-rate summersets, again laughed loudly, and clapped his hands.  “You would scarcely think,” he continued, “that I drove that little pony yesterday heavily laden all the way from Coruna.  We arrived at Padron at two o’clock this morning; but we are nevertheless both willing and able to undertake a fresh journey.  No tenga usted cuidao, as my master said, no one ever complains of that pony or of me.”  In this kind of discourse we proceeded a considerable way through a very picturesque country, until we reached a beautiful village at the skirt of a mountain.  “This village,” said my guide, “is called Los Angeles, because its church was built long since by the angels; they placed a beam of gold beneath it, which they brought down from heaven, and which was once a rafter of God’s own house.  It runs all the way under the ground from hence to the cathedral of Compostella.”

Passing through the village, which he likewise informed me possessed baths, and was much visited by the people of Santiago, we shaped our course to the north-west, and by so doing doubled a mountain which rose majestically over our heads, its top crowned with bare and broken rocks, whilst on our right, on the other side of a spacious valley, was a high range, connected with the mountains to the northward of Saint James.  On the summit of this range rose high embattled towers, which my guide informed me were those of Altamira, an ancient and ruined castle, formerly the principal residence in this province of the counts of that name.  Turning now due west, we were soon at the bottom of a steep and rugged pass, which led to more elevated regions.  The ascent cost us nearly half an hour, and the difficulties of the ground were such, that I more than once congratulated myself on having left my own horses behind, and being mounted on the gallant little pony which, accustomed to such paths, scrambled bravely forward, and eventually brought us in safety to the top of the ascent.