o give entrance,
now to a vinegar cruet, now to a salt-cellar.

At length an angelic figure actually bore in a large dish containing a
quantity of vegetables, occasioning a cry of joy to re-echo through our
end of the room. She placed it on a side-board and retired. Again the
door opened, when to our utter dismay, another apparition moved towards
the dish, took it up and carried it away; shutting the door carefully
behind her. This was the best thing that could have occurred; since it
produced a sudden outburst of mirth, which accompanied us to the table,
now speedily adorned with the materials of a plentiful repast.

The next town to Tudela, is the gay and elegant little fortress of
Pamplona, from which place an easy day's journey, through a tract of
superb mountain scenery, brings you to Tolosa, the last resting-place on
the Spanish side.

PART II.

SEVILLE.

LETTER XV.

JOURNEY TO SEVILLE. CHARACTER OF THE SPANIARDS. VALLEY OF THE RHONE.

Marseille.

In order to reach the south of Spain, the longest route is that which,
passing through France, leads by Bayonne to the centre of the northern
frontier of the Peninsula, which it then traverses from end to end. It
is not the longest in actual distance; but in regard to time, and to
fatigue, and (for all who do not travel by Diligence), by far the
longest, with regard to expense. Another route, longer, it is true, in
distance, but shorter with respect to all these other considerations, is
that by Lyons and Marseille; from either of which places, the journey
may be made entirely by steam.

The shortest of all, and in every respect, is that by the Gibraltar
mail, which leaves London and Falmouth once a week. This is a quicker
journey than that through France, even for an inhabitant of France,
supposing him resident at Paris, and to proceed to England _via le
Havre_. But there is an objection to this route for a tourist. Desirous
of visiting foreign scenes, he will find it too essentially an English
journey--direct, sure, and horribly business-like and monotonous. You
touch, it is true, at Lisbon, where during a few hours, you may escape
from the beef and Stilton cheese, if not from the Port wine; and where
you may enjoy the view of some fine scenery; but all the rest is
straight-forward, desperate paddling night and day; with the additional
objection, that being surrounded by English faces, living on English
fare, and listening to English voices, th