Cas, into their box adjoining. The scene, to me especially, who have not seen the magnificence of the Madrid arena, was animating and brilliant in the highest degree. Fancy an immense amphitheatre with four great tiers of boxes, and a range of uncovered seats in front; the whole crowded almost to suffocation; the boxes filled with ladies in full dress, and the seats below by gaily dressed and most enthusiastic spectators—two military bands of music, playing beautiful airs from the operas; an extraordinary variety of brilliant costumes, all lighted up by the eternally deep, blue sky; ladies and peasants, and officers in full uniform, and you may conceive that it must have been altogether a varied and curious spectacle.
About half past six, a flourish of trumpets announced the president, who came in uniform with his staff, and took his seat to the music of "Guerra! Guerra! I bellici trombi." Shortly after the matadors and picadors, the former on foot, the latter on horseback, made their entry, saluting all round the arena, and were received with loud cheering.
Bernardo's dress of blue and silver was very superb, and cost him five hundred dollars. The signal was given—the gates were thrown open, and a bull sprang into the arena; not a great, fierce-looking animal, as they are in Spain, but a small, angry, wild looking beast, with a troubled eye.
"Thrice sounds the clarion; lo! the signal falls,
The den expands, and expectation mute
Gapes round the silent circle's peopled walls.
Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute,
