hrough the arched gateway of a Gothic
castle.

In this part of Spain one does not hear the sounds of the guitar; these
commence further on. On Sundays and holydays, the fair of Tolosa, and of
the other Basque towns, flourish their castagnettes to the less romantic
whinings of the violin; but, in traversing the country, the ear is
continually met by a sound less musical, although no less national, than
that of the guitar--a sort of piercing and loud complaint, comparable to
nothing but the screams of those who have "relinquished hope" at Dante's
grim gateway.

These unearthly accents assail the ear of the traveller long before he
can perceive the object whence they proceed; but, becoming louder and
louder, there will issue from a narrow road, or rather ravine, a
diminutive cart, shut in between two small round tables for wheels.
Their voice proceeds from their junction with the axle, by a
contrivance, the nature of which I did not examine closely enough to
describe. A French tourist expresses much disgust at this custom, which
he attributes to the barbarous state of his neighbours, and their
ignorance of mechanical art; it is, however, much more probable that the
explanation given by the native population is the correct one. According
to this, the wheels are so constructed for the useful purpose of
forewarning all other drivers of the approach of a cart. The utility of
some such invention is evident. The mountain roads are cut to a depth
often of several yards, sometimes scores of yards, (being probably
dried-up beds of streams,) and frequently for a distance of some
furlongs admit of the passage of no more than one of these carts at a
time, notwithstanding their being extremely narrow. The driver,
forewarned at a considerable distance by a sound he cannot mistake,
seeks a wide spot, and there awaits the meeting.

You need not be told that human experience analysed resolves itself into
a series of disappointments. I beg you to ask yourself, or any of your
acquaintances, whether any person, thing, or event ever turned out to be
exactly, or nearly, such as was expected he, she, or it would be.
According to the disposition of each individual, these component parts
of experience become the bane or the charm of his life.

This truth may be made, by powerful resolve, the permanent companion of
your reflections, so as to render the expectation of disappointment
stronger than any other expectation. What then? If you know the