nghold of the Archbishops of Toledo; and was erected by Don Pedro
Tenorio, the same prelate who rebuilt the bridge of San Martin, and
repaired the Moorish castle of San Servando.

Before you ascend the peak, you pass through the village of Almonacid,
from which the castle takes its name, and which, unlike that more
recently erected pile, is completely Arab in aspect. All the houses are
entered through back courts, and present no difference of appearance,
whether shops, taverns, _posadas_, or private residences. After tying my
horse in the stable of the posada, and giving him his meal of barley,
which he had carried in the _alforjas_ (travelling bags) suspended
behind the saddle, I took my own provisions out of the opposite
receptacle, and established myself before the kitchen fire.

On my asking for wine, the hostess requested I would furnish her with
two _quartos_ (one halfpenny) with which she purchased me a pint, at the
tavern next door. The host of the posada, who was seated next me, and a
friend at the opposite corner of the fire-place, favoured me, during my
meal, with their reminiscences of a battle fought here, during the
Peninsular war. They had not heard of the English having taken any part
in the quarrel, with the exception of the old woman, who recollected
perfectly the name of Wellington, and pronounced it as perfectly, but
thought he had been a Spanish general. They described the battle as a
hard fought one, and won by the French, who marched up the hill with
fixed bayonets, as the old host, almost blind, described by assuming the
attitude of a soldier jogging up a hill, and dislodged the Spanish
garrison from the castle.

I could have willingly passed a week in this village, so exciting are
the remains of Arab manners to the curiosity. The name of the place had
already raised my expectations, but the blind landlord of the posada
unconsciously won my attachment from the first moment. No sooner was I
seated, than, leaning towards me, and patting my arm to draw my
attention, he pointed to his two eyes. At first I was at a loss to
understand him; but soon discovered that he was desirous of knowing
whether I was sufficiently versed in the mysteries of Esculapius, to
prescribe for the relief of his suffering organs. To this trait he soon
added one still more characteristic, by actually speaking of Toledo, by
its Moorish appellation Tolaite. Had he worn a turban, sat cross-legged
and offered me coffee and a pi