“Una romi sin pachi
Le peno a su chindomar,” &c., &c.

That is Gitano, Don Jorge; I learnt it from the toreros of Andalusia, who all speak Gitano, and are mostly of Gypsy blood.  I learnt it from them; they are all friends of mine, Montes Sevilla and Poquito Pan.  I never miss a function of bulls, Don Jorge.  Baltasar is sure to be there with his amiga.  Don Jorge, there are no bull-functions in the winter, or I would carry you to one, but happily to-morrow there is an execution, a funcion de la horca; and there we will go, Don Jorge.

We did go to see this execution, which I shall long remember.  The criminals were two young men, brothers; they suffered for a most atrocious murder, having in the dead of night broke open the house of an aged man, whom they put to death, and whose property they stole.  Criminals in Spain are not hanged as they are in England, or guillotined as in France, but strangled upon a wooden stage.  They sit down on a kind of chair with a post behind, to which is affixed an iron collar with a screw; this iron collar is made to clasp the neck of the prisoner, and on a certain signal it is drawn tighter and tighter by means of the screw, until life becomes extinct.  After we had waited amongst the assembled multitude a considerable time, the first of the culprits appeared; he was mounted on an ass, without saddle or stirrups, his legs being allowed to dangle nearly to the ground.  He was dressed in yellow sulphur-coloured robes, with a high-peaked conical red hat on his head, which was shaven.  Between his hands he held a parchment, on which was written something, I believe the confession of faith.  Two priests led the animal by the bridle; two others walked on either side, chanting litanies, amongst which I distinguished the words of heavenly peace and tranquillity, for the culprit had been reconciled to the church, had confessed and received absolution, and had been promised admission to heaven.  He did not exhibit the least symptom of fear, but dismounted from the animal and was led, not supported, up the scaffold, where he was placed on the chair, and the fatal collar put round his neck.  One of the priests then in a loud voice commenced saying the Belief, and the culprit repeated the words after him.  On a sudden, the executioner, who stood behind, commenced turning the screw, which was of prodigious force, and the wretched man—­was almost instantly a corpse; but, as the screw went round, the priest began to shout, “pax et misericordia et tranquillitas,” and still as he shouted, his voice became louder and louder, till the lofty walls of Madrid rang with it:  then stooping down, he placed his mouth close to the culprit’s ear, still shouting, just as if he would pursue the spirit through its course to eternity, cheering it on its way.  The effect was tremendous.  I myself was so excited that I involuntarily shouted “misericordia,” and so did many others.  God was not thought of; Christ was not thought of;