felt better for being in it. The weather was all
in our favour also, being dry, and neither hot nor cold, although it was
now winter in these regions. I was sorry to leave Cordoba, and so I feel
sure was aunt, and even old Jenny.

Then came the journey back to Villa Maria, and thence away westward to
Villa Mercedes. The railway to the latter place had not long been opened.

It seems all like a beautiful halo--that railway ride to the _Ultima
Thule_ of the iron horse--and, like a dream, it is but indistinctly
remembered. Let me briefly catch the salient points of this pleasant
journey.

Villa Maria we reach in the evening. The sun is setting in a golden haze;
too golden, for it bodes rain, and presently down it comes in a steady
pour, changing the dust of the roads into the stickiest of mud, and
presently into rivers. Moncrieff is here, there, and everywhere, seeing
after his manifold goods and chattels; but just as the short twilight is
deepening into night, he returns 'dressed and dry,' as he calls it, to the
snug little room of the inn, where a capital dinner is spread for us, and
we are all hungry. Even old Jenny, forgetting her troubles and travels,
makes merry music with knife and fork, and Bombazo is all smiles and
chatter. It rains still; what of that? It will drown the mosquitoes and
other flying 'jerlies.' It is even pleasant to listen to the rattle of the
rain-drops during the few lulls there were in the conversation. The sound
makes the room inside seem ever so much more cosy. Besides, there is a
fire in the grate, and, to add to our enjoyment, Bombazo has his guitar.

Even the landlord takes the liberty of lingering in the room, standing
modestly beside the door, to listen. It is long, he tells us, since he has
had so cheerful a party at his house.

Aileen, as Moncrieff calls his pretty bride, is not long in discovering
that the innkeeper hails from her own sweet Isle of Sorrow, and many
friendly questions are asked on both sides.

Bed at last. A bright morning, the sun coming up red and rosy through an
ocean of clouds more gorgeous than ever yet was seen in tame old England.

We are all astir very early. We are all merry and hungry. Farewells are
said, and by and by off we rattle. The train moves very slowly at first,
but presently warms to her work and settles down to it. We catch a glimpse
of a town some distance off, and nearer still the silver gleam of a river
reflecting the morning sun. By and by