ice as Spanish ambassador, and in Venice he died
at an advanced age. He was a man designed to be an object of intense
hatred to the people; he was simply ruthless in his taxation.

The door of my room had a lock on the outside but none on the inside. For
the first and second night I let it pass, but on the third I told Senor
Andrea that I must have it altered.

"Senor Don Jacob, you must bear with it in Spain, for the Holy
Inquisition must always be at liberty to inspect the rooms of
foreigners."

"But what in the devil's name does your cursed Inquisition want . . . ?"

"For the love of God, Senor Jacob, speak not thus! if you were overheard
we should both be undone."

"Well, what can the Holy Inquisition want to know?"

"Everything. It wants to know whether you eat meat on fast days, whether
persons of opposite sexes sleep together, if so, whether they are
married, and if not married it will cause both parties to be imprisoned;
in fine, Senor Don Jaimo, the Holy inquisition is continually watching
over our souls in this country."

When we met a priest bearing the viaticum to some sick man, Senor Andrea
would tell me imperatively to get out of my carriage, and then there was
no choice but to kneel in the mud or dust as the case might be. The chief
subject of dispute at that time was the fashion of wearing breeches.
Those who wore 'braguettes' were imprisoned, and all tailors making
breeches with 'braguettes' were severely punished. Nevertheless, people
persisted in wearing them, and the priests and monks preached in vain
against the indecency of such a habit. A revolution seemed imminent, but
the matter was happily settled without effusion of blood. An edict was
published and affixed to the doors of all the churches, in which it was
declared that breeches with braguettes were only to be worn by the public
hangmen. Then the fashion passed away; for no one cared to pass for the
public executioner.

By little and little I got an insight into the manners of the Spanish
nation as I passed through Guadalaxara and Alcala, and at length arrived
at Madrid.

Guadalaxara, or Guadalajara, is pronounced by the Spaniards with a strong
aspirate, the x and j having the same force. The vowel d, the queen of
letters, reigns supreme in Spain; it is a relic of the old Moorish
language. Everyone knows that the Arabic abounds in d's, and perhaps the
philologists are right in calling it the most ancient of languages, since
the a is