perity of the tenants, and their
frequency cheered our way as the evening waned and the lamps began to
twinkle from their windows. At a certain station, I am reminded by my
careful mentor, the craggy mountain-tops were softened by the sunset
pink, and that then the warm afternoon air began to grow cooler, and the
dying day to empurple the uplands everywhere, without abating the charm
of the blithe cottages. It seems to have been mostly a very homelike
scene, and where there was a certain stretch of woodland its loneliness
was relieved by the antic feat of a goat lifting itself on its hind legs
to browse the olive leaves on their native bough. The air was thinner
and cooler, but never damp, and at times it relented and blew lullingly
in at our window. We made such long stops that the lights began to fade
out of the farm-windows, but kept bright in the villages, when at a
station which we were so long in coming to that we thought it must be
next to Granada, a Spanish gentleman got in with us; and though the
prohibitory notice of _No Fumadores_ stared him in the face, it did
not stare him out of countenance; for he continued to smoke like a
locomotive the whole way to our journey's end. From time to time I
meditated a severe rebuke, but in the end I made him none, and I am now
convinced that this was wise, for he probably would not have minded it,
and as it was, when I addressed him some commonplace as to the probable
time of our arrival he answered in the same spirit, and then presently
grew very courteously communicative. He told me for one thing, after we
had passed the mountain gates of the famous Vega and were making our way
under the moonlight over the storied expanse, drenched with the blood of
battles long ago, that the tall chimneys we began to see blackening the
air with their volumed fumes were the chimneys of fourteen beet-root
sugar factories belonging to the Duke of Wellington. Then I divined, as
afterward I learned, that the lands devoted to this industry were part
of the rich gift which Spain bestowed upon the Great Duke in gratitude
for his services against the Napoleonic invasion. His present heir has
imagined a benevolent use of his heritage by inviting the peasantry of
the Vega to the culture of the sugar-beet; but whether the enterprise
was prospering I could not say; and I do not suppose any reader of mine
will care so much for it as I did in the pour of the moonlight over the
roofs and towers that were