e intended to take with them a
supply of comforts indispensable to persons of their condition, as it
was probable that the castle might be destitute of them, having so long
been without the presence of its master; and this was the more needful,
as the castellan had received no intimation of the proposed visit. On
the following morning they set out: the castle of Alcantra was situated
in the north of Spain, among the wildest mountains, and as they
travelled onward, scenery of the most diversified kind passed before
their eyes. It was the time of the vintage; and the noble peasants of
Castile, in their picturesque costume, came homeward laden with the rich
purple grapes, singing the romantic lays of love and chivalry, which
have passed down from one generation to another. The ballads of the Cid,
and the laments of the Moors, formed the chief burden of their song.
Every now and then they could distinguish some well-known passage in
"Admiral Guarinos," "Baviaca," or "Don Roderick," or that sad-chorus,
which sounds like a Moorish sigh,

"Woe is me, Alhama!"

At sunset, they would see the peasants seated at the doors of their
cottages, cheerfully feasting upon bread and fruit, varied by the light
wine of the country, preserved in goat-skins, as it is in the East: one
leg of the skin forms the mouth of the bottle; and they noticed, what is
generally reported by travellers, that even in this time of rejoicing,
intoxication was nowhere to be witnessed. Many were the groups they met
dancing upon the grass by the light of the moon; and a pleasant thing it
was to see the white-haired grandsire looking on, and occasionally
joining the merry band of his descendants in innocent sport and
festivity, keeping a young heart under the weight of years. Clara and
Magdalena were particularly struck by the native grace displayed by the
youths and maidens in the bolero, a dance originally introduced by the
Moors: with castanets in their hands, accompanying their steps with
unpremeditated music, they would alternately advance and retreat, fly
and pursue, until, exhausted by the exercise, they would rest upon the
rustic bench or the green bank, and while away the hours with song and
guitar. What noble-looking men are the peasants of Spain! Every one of
them, from the dignity of his deportment, might well pass for a hidalgo
in disguise; and the feeling of self-respect is so common, that it has
passed into a proverb among the people that