bow of the head on the part of the alcalde, which might be compared to a short grace, this worshipful and worshipping company flew helter skelter upon the repast. We waited some time to see the end of it,—but despairing of doing so, proceeded on our route.
About mid-day, we came to the edge of a river, half as wide over as the Thames, at the new tunnel. We had passed, for the last six miles, along its banks, through a country so beautiful as to make it difficult to describe it. The road was a smooth, green, turf, skirted with luxuriant and flowering shrubs, now contracted, and now opening into spacious glens, and so winding in its course, that, every now and then, the river, which seemed to oppose our further progress, was, quickly, in our rear, and snatched from our speculation. We came, however, at length to "that bourne from which no traveller returns"—who determines to go forward: we were on the bank of the river, and, to my astonishment, learnt we had to wade through it. Whilst
