_Sin trabajo_.

'There is no short cut
Without some deep rut.'

says the Spanish proverb.

We now began to descend the valley by a broad and excellent _carretera_,
or carriage road, which was cut out of the steep side of the mountain on
our right. On our left was the gorge, down which tumbled the run of
water which I have before mentioned. The road was tortuous, and at every
turn the scene became more picturesque. The gorge gradually widened, and
the brook at its bottom, fed by a multitude of springs, [grew] more
considerable; but it was soon far beneath us, pursuing its headlong
course till it reached level ground, where it flowed in the midst of a
beautiful but confined prairie. There was something silvan and savage in
the mountains on the further side, clad from foot to pinnacle with trees,
so closely growing that the eye was unable to obtain a glimpse of the
hill-sides which were uneven with ravines and gulleys, the haunts of the
wolf, the wild boar and the _corso_ or mountain-stag; the last of which,
as I was informed by a peasant who was driving a car of oxen, frequently
descended to feed in the prairie and were shot for the sake of their
skins, for the flesh being strong and disagreeable is held at no account.
But notwithstanding the wildness of these regions, the handiworks of man
were visible. The sides of the gorge though precipitous were yellow with
little fields of barley, and we saw a hamlet and church down in the
prairie below, whilst merry songs ascended to our ears from where the
mowers were toiling with their scythes, cutting the luxuriant and
abundant grass. I could scarcely believe that I was in Spain, in general
so brown, so arid and cheerless, and I almost fancied myself in Greece,
in that land of ancient glory, whose mountain and forest scenery
Theocritus has so well described.

At the bottom of the valley we entered a small village washed by the
brook, which had now swelled almost to a stream. A more romantic
situation I had never witnessed. It was surrounded and almost overhung
by huge mountains, and embowered in trees of various kinds; waters
sounded, nightingales sang, and the cuckoo's full note boomed from the
distant branches, but the village was miserable. The huts were built of
slate-stones, of which the neighbouring hills seemed to be principally
composed, and roofed with the same, but not in the neat tidy manner of
English houses, for the slates were of all sizes