l over wheel, and to establish reservoirs at different
elevations, as it would scarcely be possible to work a wheel of such
dimensions as to carry jars to the height required (more than three
hundred feet), even though furnished with ropes, which are made to turn
round the wheel and descend below it.

Crossing the bridge, the road quits the river, or rather is left for a
certain space by it, until it meets it at the distance of a mile. This
road is a favourite promenade of the inhabitants, and deservedly so. On
each side, for the distance of a mile, it is bordered by hedges of
magnificent rose-trees. These hedges are double on both sides, enclosing
walks for the promenaders on foot. Behind those on the outside, the
colours are varied by the pale green of the olive-tree; and over them
occasional clusters of lime-trees, mingled with the acacia and laburnum,
furnish shade, in case of an excess of sunshine. This promenade, flanked
on one side by the hills, and on the other, by the highly cultivated
plain, in parts of which the Tagus is seen occasionally to peep through
its wooded banks, is most delicious during the rose season. I should
especially recommend the visitor of Toledo to repair to it during the
first hour after sunrise, when thronged with birds, which are here
almost tame, and fill the air with their music; and also in the evening,
when frequented by the mantilla-hooded fair of the city.

There is, however, notwithstanding the beauty and gay appearance of this
profusion of roses, a singular effect produced by their situation.
Usually seen surrounded by other flowers or by well-kept grass or earth,
they do not look quite themselves on the side on which they rest their
bushy foundations on a dusty road, covered with deep ruts. The fish out
of water forms a hackneyed, not to say a dried up, comparison; but we
can compare the rather pallid and unnatural appearance of these plants
to that of a bevy of ladies, who, tired of the monotony of a ball-room
in Grosvenor Place, should resolve, precisely at the crisis when
candle-light is more than ever required for their rather suffering
complexions, to compel their partners to lead them, at sunrise, a
galopade down Tattersall's yard. The roses, thus misplaced, are
nevertheless roses, and cease not to be fair, in spite of their unusual
_entourage_, and to contribute to the beauty and novelty of this
picturesque promenade.

Amongst the variety of harmless weaknesses by which