The Press.
London, England, 1853-08-20 00:00:00

THE PRESS.

we came to a little bridge with a great hole broken through
its arch, and, strange to say, workmen mending it. Then,
fording the Cluadaira below the dam of a picturesque will,
we reached, after a mile or two, the edge of the dehesa, or
wilderness. Here we picketed our ponies—that is to say,
we drove an iron spike into the ground; and to that spike
there is a ring, and through that ring there is a cord—
which cord, being tied at about seven yards length round
the ponv's neck, allows him to graze with much more fresh
air and liberty to sweeten his vegetable diet than ever the
prisoner of Chilton had.
Not satisfied with this, however, my little black beast
must needs break away, and, pulling up his spike, scamper
back towards Seville, whose spires and towers still appeared
in the distance. The other pony followed his example,
and we ran after them.

I will leave the whole party running while I tell you why
we stopped on the margin of the dehesa. If you had ever
been a load little boy run away from school, which 1 ant ex•
ceedingly glad you never were, you would know that the
first thing one does on emerging from one's immediate
troubles, or the world at large, is to stop and think. We
had broken loose from the trammels of society dis-
guised in a strange garb—with ponies to carry us wher-
ever we chose, and were about to realise the romance of
many dreams.
We had, besides, to load our pistols (for we were full of
ideas of the dangers of the road), to arrange our saddles,
and cloaks, and mantas, which, in the hurry of setting off,
had been badly organised; we also intended to take a
sketch of the last appearance of Seville. Tn Spain, the
preface to everything is a cigarillo, a little squib of tobacco
rolled in thin paper, which it takes a man of average talent
six months to learn to make. We had just accomplished
this delicate operation, and were about to light, when the
ponies ran away, and we after them.
We had not gone far, though far enough to ace clearly
that they could go much faster than we could follow, when
the thought of our innocent and helpless alfotjas left a
prey to any ravening marauder who might cross the wilder.
ness brought us up short. H— went back to guard the
baggage, and I followed the ponies, expecting I should
have to go hack all the way to the livery-stable in the Calls
del Viscaino.

At the picturesque mill I heard they had recrossed the
Onadaim at full gallop, and I trudged along beneath the
sultry sun of February, in much despondence and perspi-
ration, till I happened to think of the broken bridge,
where the workmen must have stopped them. So it
turned out, for soon after I was met by two of them lead-
ing the truants. They had got their saddles turned round,
and each had trampled off one of his stirrups.
Having tried in vain riding the one to lead the other, I
led them Lack, and arriving hot and breathless within half
a mile alma encampment, I was startled by the report of
a pistol in that direction, Approaching cautiously, I could
see nothing of H—, and the terrible idea flashed across
my mind that robbers had found him alone guarding the
baggage, and had shot him. Then it occurred to me that
when they found the two alfoijas they would presume he
had a companion (who might institute a search unless
also disposed of), and were therefore perhaps lying in wait
among the low brushwood to shoot me also, es soon as I
should come within range.
I therefore approached by as open ground as possible,
that they might not get too easy a shot at me; and, when
I came as near as I thought safe, I shouted his name.
After an anxions moment or two an answer was returned
in well-known accents which relieved me from my appre-
hensions. Still the shot was to be accounted for.

Has your imagination prepared you for something dread-
ful? Mime had—oomelhing like what follows.
I approached the spot, and found H— sitting among
the cloaks and luggage, smoking, but I saw in an instant
by the expression of his face, and the nervona twitch of his
lips, which made the cigar end shake, that something
serious had happened.
" I have been and done it, and there he lies, poor fellow;
but it was his own fault."
" Good heavens !" I exclaimed, as, turning where he
pointed, I saw at about seven yards distance the foot. of a
man sticking out of a plot of brnahwood. "Good
heavens ! is he deal?—what is the meaning of all this?—
what has happened ?—and here is another saddle !—and
what is that grey horse ?"
" I will tell you, but in the meanwhile we had better
pack our beasts and be off as quick as we can. I was
sitting here about a quarter of nn hour ago, when this
man came riding across the dehesa, and, seeing me, turned
this way. I had loaded my long pistols, and bad one of
them ready cocked in my hand, under a fold of the cloak
I was lying on. After askinr, me a good many impudent
questions, which I answered with as much patience as I
could—he said at last,
" Ah ! I see you are a foreigner, probably on a long
journey. Es regular sine firers ilium (it is to be supposed
you have money). That is what I am come for, with your
permission. I am Pedro Paredes, for that which your
worship may please to command—a notable bandit, at
whose name the civil guards tremble.' Saying this,
he unslung his escopet from the hinder peak of his
saddle, and dismounted to take a steadier shot in case
of need.
"Instead of getting up, I pulled the saddle-bags and
cloaks into a heap, and, lying on my stomach, resented
the muzzle of my pistol over the battery. Now then,
you impudent rascal; I said, ' lay down your gun and go
away, or I'll shoot you before you can coax your rusty old
piece to go oft And I shoal.) advise you never again to
try your hand on Englishmen with English pistols !
" He hesitated and turned pale, and was stepping
back, when I said, ' If you move without leaving your gun,
I fire. Here, - I have the advantage—at a distance, you
" No English dog shall make a jest of the Andaluz,
he said, a sudden fury flushing his face. He presented
his gun as quickly as he could, and we both tired at the

same moment, but my pistol had been on his heart
during the discussion, and through his heart it went—
but I had a nearish ehcape—look at the rim of my hat."
Sure enough, there was a round hole in the broad up.
turned brim of the CaJanie'.

" Thank God you are no worse, but what are we
to do? " _ -

.
"We had better leave him as he is ; he has fallen with
the gun clutched in his hand. If we don't disturb him,
and they find him after a day or two, with money in his
pocket, and all those silver buttons on his clothes they
will think he has destroyed himself; I have unsaddled his
horse, and turned him loose. He will probably stray away,
and not attract immediate attention ; we must throw the
saddle and bridle into another bush. There now—we had
better put earth between us, as they say."
I could easily perceive that he was deeply shocked,
though the excitement gave a sort of painful levity to his
manner.
Before mounting, I went to look at the corpse, the first
I had ever seen of one who had died a violent death. He
had staggered backwards and fallen flat on his back, his
arms and legs stretched out—one hand grasped the barrel
of his escopet, and the other a bunch of slender pahafts
stems, whose fan-like heads, rustling to the almost imper-
ceptible breeze, seemed as if the dead hand stirred them.
I bent aside a bush of rosemary which shadowed the face.
One eyelid was propped up by a rosemary sprig, and th
eye beneath still glared upwards with a glazed and stupefied
look of fierceness and terror. In bending the bush back
to look into his face, I had stirred the sprig, and at first it
seemed that lie was alive. However, letting go the twigs
in my horror, I saw how it was.
He was a tine, handsomish man, of about twenty-two or
three, with marked and striking features, denoting, how-
ever, more strength of passion than intellect. The healthy
sunburnt browns of his swarthy face were turned to
ghastly yellows on the bloodless and ashy skin. The
bright-coloured facings and glittering silver tags and
brooches of his dress, too, added a painful contrast of holi-
day splendour to the faded hues of death.

The subsequent encounter with the bandit's
sweetheart, whose portrait the author takes,
and afterwards carries away in the confusion
occasioned by the recognition of her dead
lover, is admirably recounted. As the tourists
proceed they meet with other incidents
scarcely less exciting. In the mountains
of Granada they fall in with a Cambridge
friend, who is travelling with his young bride
disguised as his younger brother. Coming
out of Malaga, they successfully experiment in
the Robin Hood style upon a certain beggar
whom they suspect of having no real title to
his vocation. And later on their journey they
so improve in audacity as to rob, either meta-
phorically or really, the author only knows
which, a couple of Cambridge acquaintances
of the lecture-room, whom they consider they
have compensated by contributing an incident
to their book. Here is a specimen of the diffi-
culties to be encountered in order to obtain
your letters in the Peninsula :
-

Coming down by the Post-office—[this is at Granada;—
(which is in the same street with our Fonda de la Amist ad
and in the direct way between it and the Alhambra), we,
found the postmaster sorting the letters ; and, inquiring with
a palpitathigheart if there was a letter for my name, I was
told it 111114 " regular que no" (probably there was
not ), but, that the list would be out in a few minutes.
When that portentous document was watered up it proved
a blank as far as I was concerned; but knowing that, as
many things in Spain are very inefficiently done with much
pomp and circumstance, the names on the list bear often
but n very vague resemblance to the real address on the
letters, 1 lingered pensively studying the column of
" cartes estnuijeras" till I fixed upon " No. 3sl, Don Orr-
!pan Estrin," which I asked to look at.
I had but slight hopes, and the official seemed to hesi•
tate in giving it me, having so suddenly changed my name.
But I suppose he judged by my exclamation of delight on
seeing your handwriting that 1 was the rightful owner,
for he allowed me to purchase it (at about twice its weight
in silver) and carry it away in triumph. In transcribing
the address he had begun boldly with the first Christian
name George, which he had translated Gregorio--passing
over the intermediate writing as works of supererogation
he had taken the Esquire—slight/ymoditied—for the patro-
nymic. However, I got my letter.
- - -

its
Cuenca, with environs, which had been
commended to the authors by the united tes-
timony of Ford, Sterling, and Gayangos, ap-
pear to have interested them most of Spanish
cities. Ronda they were disappointed with,
having come upon it from the wrong direction,
and have here an account to settle with the
author of the Handbook. After Madrid they
finished with Segovia,Valladolid, and Victoria,
selling their ponies at Irun under the following
discount gements :
We went out to get our passport/4 r %Nell. so as to be
ready to set off to-morrow morning by the Bayonne
diligence. As we were discoursing with one of the officers
of police before the door of the bureau, and advertising our
ponies by telling the price they would probably have to go
at if they were not rescued by some more worthy bidder,
we were joined by a blustering corporal.
" He had beard of our case, (anti° 1 and it was a shame
to take advantage of the hurry of travellers, to get valuable

AUGUST 20, 1853.

animals for nothing but a mere eerejo of an old song. If
it was his case he would do as an officer in his regiment
had done at Valencia.

" This officer had a splendid horse, and when his regi-
ment was suddenly ordered away to Tarifa, rarqiu ! nobody
would make him a bid for the horse, though he was
worth at least three hundred dollars, rarqjo! thinking, no
doubt, that by hanging back they would get him for aiwost

Hut when he was going to embark he had the horse
led down to the shore, and some thought he would take
the horse aboard with him ; but that was impossible, for
it was a foot regiment, and he had no peituitudon. So
when he had to go aboard himself, in the presence of
those scoundrelly dealers who Na tome to beat hint down
to the lowest he would tike, he said, ' Cargiu ! you shall
Vtot *heat die, earojo ! You would not give me a lair
Wii.4e, And, corgi° ! you shall have him for nothing—but,
at the same time, I will make it a fair price. for he shall
not be worth a earqjo: Whereupon he unclasped his
navaja and cut the horse's throat, and gashed the hide all
over, so that the skin should be worth nothing either,
carafe! and I Raw it done, eureijo! and, ear4o ! I mould
advise you to do the same !---earqp ! ! !
Soon alter returning to our hotel the customer ap-
peared. He is the 5411)418W aidor of the tiovernment
lotterrofilce here, and has a bad, halite, hang-dog east of
icenuttenance.
he beat us down front thirty dollars, at which we had
'vesulgtily,iitood for some time, to twenty-five ; and finally
*o dosed the bargain at twenty-three about five
guineas. The ponies originally cost us alum'. So
that we have practically paid about five guineas and a half
each for a thousand miles of locomotion—which is not
very dear.
This melancholy occasion has inspired a sonnet, and
such as it is it shall point the end of my letter ; for I
must go to bed, as I shall have to be up at six to get the
portmanteaux out of the gedera's office, which we could
not do before, because we had no money to pay for the
carriage. Indeed, in our present dearth of money' the
clean golden coin in which our purchaser disbursed gave
Its almost as pleasant a sensation as if we had made a good

BONNET.
The Cid is sold—the Moor it mine no more.
For dollar* twenty-three, the highest bid,
This night we parted with tho Moor and Cid,
To Ynnes lottery adwanistraibr.
A thousand miles these steeds their riders bore,
By Ronda, Gib, Granada, and Madrid,
Segovia fair, and foul Valladolid,
Burgos, Vitoria, to Biscaya's shore.
Frisky and fat, rotuttl bellied as a tun,
And full of spirits, by the gate of meat,*
Each capered forth from Seville. Almost beat,
One broken•kneed—with a stiff fetlock one,
On their last legs performing their last feat,
They crossed the Pyrineses and reached Yrun.
• Puerta de la carne.

As we indicated above, nothing can be more
genial, picturesque, and acceptable than Mr.
Cayley's part in this performance. Such, in-
deed, was to be expected from the author of
" Sir Reginald de Mohun." but his publisher is
fairly open to the censures which we perceive
have been directed against him elsewhere.
The adaptation to two volumes of the arrange-
ments for one, even of the titlepage for instance
—the absence of index or table of contents—
of a list of errata, an omission of importance
where typographical errors swarm—the refer-
ence to illustrations which are not to be found
—reflect such discredit on the publisher that
we must hold them up to notice. We regret,
to conclude, that our just praise of Mr. Cayley
must be coupled with a comment so dispa-
raging to Mr. Bentley.

The History of ,qcotland, from 1689 to 1748. By
John Hill Burton. London : Longman and
Co.

THE story of Sentland from the Revolution of
1885, to the final destruction of the Jacobites,
is more full of romantic interest than any
other portion of our British annals since the
close of the seventeenth century. Amongst
the various ]►arts of the subject presenting
themes fin• a historian's skill are the struggles
of the expiring Stuart dynasty, Dundee's cam-
paign, the rebellions of 1715 and '45, with
their various episodes, the wanderings of the
" Chevalier," and the deaths on the scaffold at
Tower-hill of the last patrician " traitoro "in
our history, who expiated their ambition or
enthusiasm on the block. The battle of Killi-
erankia and the death of Clarerhouse, the
march to Derby, and the final rout at Culloden,
furnish ample matter for a writer with vivid
power. On the other hand, the civil history
of the period is one on which a really philo-
sophic historian—a Hume or a Guizot—might
profoundly ponder. The accession of the
house of' Hanover; the union with Scotland,
and its results upon English empire ; the
peculiar religionism of " the Kirk," the relation
of the Scotch aristocracy to the population at