It was now past noon, and the heat was exceedingly fierce:  I saw scarcely a living being in the streets, the stones of which burnt my feet through the soles of my boots.  I passed through the square of the Constitution, which presents nothing particular to the eye of the stranger, and ascended the hill to obtain a nearer view of the castle.  It is a strong heavy edifice of stone, with round towers, and, though deserted, appears to be still in a tolerable state of preservation.  I became tired of gazing, and was retracing my steps, when I was accosted by two Gypsies, who by some means had heard of my arrival.  We exchanged some words in Gitano, but they appeared to be very ignorant of the dialect, and utterly unable to maintain a conversation in it.  They were clamorous for a gabicote, or book in the Gypsy tongue.  I refused it them, saying that they could turn it to no profitable account; but finding that they could read, I promised them each a Testament in Spanish.  This offer, however, they refused with disdain, saying that they cared for nothing written in the language of the Busne or Gentiles.  They then persisted in their demand, to which I at last yielded, being unable to resist their importunity; whereupon they accompanied me to the inn, and received what they so ardently desired.

In the evening I was visited by Mr. Phillipi, who informed me that he had ordered a cabriolet to call for me at the inn at eleven at night, for the purpose of conveying me to Bonanza, and that a person there who kept a small wine-house, and to whom the chests and other things had been forwarded, would receive me for the night, though it was probable that I should have to sleep on the floor.  We then walked to the beach, where there were a great number of bathers, all men.  Amongst them were some good swimmers; two, in particular, were out at a great distance in the firth of the Guadalquivir, I should say at least a mile; their heads could just be descried with the telescope.  I was told that they were friars.  I wondered at what period of their lives they had acquired their dexterity at natation.  I hoped it was not at a time when, according to their vows, they should have lived for prayer, fasting, and mortification alone.  Swimming is a noble exercise, but it certainly does not tend to mortify either the flesh or the spirit.  As it was becoming dusk, we returned to the town, when my friend bade me a kind farewell.  I then retired to my apartment, and passed some hours in meditation.

It was night, ten o’clock;—­eleven o’clock, and the cabriolet was at the door.  I got in, and we proceeded down the avenue and along the shore, which was quite deserted.  The waves sounded mournfully; everything seemed to have changed since the morning.  I even thought that the horse’s feet sounded differently, as it trotted slowly over the moist firm sand.  The driver, however, was by no means mournful, nor inclined to be silent long: