Rivadeo is one of the principal seaports of Galicia, and is admirably situated for commerce, on a deep firth, into which the river Mirando debouches.  It contains many magnificent buildings, and an extensive square or plaza, which is planted with trees.  I observed several vessels in the harbour; and the population, which is rather numerous, exhibited none of those marks of misery and dejection which I had lately observed among the Ferrolese.

On the morrow Martin of Rivadeo made his appearance at the appointed hour with his mare.  It was a lean haggard animal, not much larger than a pony; it had good points, however, and was very clean in its hinder legs, and Martin insisted that it was the best animal of its kind in all Spain.  “It is a factious mare,” said he, “and I believe an Alavese.  When the Carlists came here it fell lame, and they left it behind, and I purchased it for a dollar.  It is not lame now, however, as you shall soon see.”

We had now reached the firth which divides Galicia from the Asturias.  A kind of barge was lying about two yards from the side of the quay, waiting to take us over.  Towards this Martin led his mare, and giving an encouraging shout, the creature without any hesitation sprang over the intervening space into the barge.  “I told you she was a facciosa,” said Martin; “none but a factious animal would have taken such a leap.”

We all embarked in the barge and crossed over the firth, which is in this place nearly a mile broad, to Castro Pol, the first town in the Asturias.  I now mounted the factious mare, whilst Antonio followed on my own horse.  Martin led the way, exchanging jests with every person whom he met on the road, and occasionally enlivening the way with an extemporaneous song.

We were now in the Asturias, and about noon we reached Navias, a small fishing town, situate on a ria or firth; in the neighbourhood are ragged mountains, called the Sierra de Buron, which stand in the shape of a semi-circle.  We saw a small vessel in the harbour, which we subsequently learned was from the Basque provinces, come for a cargo of cider or sagadua, the beverage so dearly loved by the Basques.  As we passed along the narrow street, Antonio was hailed with an “Ola” from a species of shop in which three men, apparently shoemakers, were seated.  He stopped for some time to converse with them, and when he joined us at the posada where we halted, I asked him who they were:  “Mon maitre,” said he, “ce sont des messieurs de ma connoissance.  I have been fellow servant at different times with all three; and I tell you beforehand, that we shall scarcely pass through a village in this country where I shall not find an acquaintance.  All the Asturians, at some period of their lives, make a journey to Madrid, where, if they can obtain a situation, they remain until they have scraped up sufficient to turn to advantage in their own country; and as I have served in all the