o be infested by brigands, we
reached Coruna, where stands the tomb of Mocre, built by the chivalrous
French in commemoration of the fall of their heroic antagonist. Many
acquire immortality without seeking it, and die before its first ray has
gilded their name; of these was Moore. There is scarcely a Spaniard but
has heard of his tomb, and speaks of it with a strange kind of awe.

At the commencement of August I found myself at St. James of
Compostella. A beautiful town is St. James, standing on a pleasant level
amidst mountains. Time has been when, with the single exception of Rome,
it was the most celebrated resort of pilgrims in the world. Its glory,
however, as a place of pilgrimage is rapidly passing away.

I was walking late one night alone in the Alameda, when a man dressed in
coarse brown garments took off his hat and demanded charity in uncouth
tones. "Benedict Mol," said I, "is it possible that I see you at
Compostella?"

It was indeed Benedict. He had walked all the way from Madrid,
supporting himself by begging.

"What motive could possibly bring you such a distance?" I asked him.

"I come for the schatz--the treasure. Ow, I do not like this country of
Galicia at all; all my bones are sore since I entered Galicia."

"And yet you have come to this country in search of treasure?"

"Ow yaw, but the schatz is buried; it is not above ground; there is no
money above ground in Galicia. I must dig it up; and when I have dug it
up I will purchase a coach with six mules, and ride out of Galicia to
Lucerne."

I gave him a dollar, and told him that as for the treasure he had come
to seek, probably it only existed in his own imagination.

_III.--The Alcalde of Finisterra_

After a visit to Pontevedra and Vigo, I returned to Padron, three
leagues from Compostella, and decided to hire a guide to Cape
Finisterra. It would be difficult to assign any plausible reason for the
ardent desire which I entertained to visit this place; but I thought
that to convey the Gospel to a place so wild and remote might perhaps be
considered an acceptable pilgrimage in the eyes of my Maker.

The first guide I employed deserted me; the second did not appear to
know the way, and sought to escape from me; and when I tried to pursue
him, my horse bolted and nearly broke my neck. I caught the guide at
last. After a very rough journey we reached the village of Finisterra,
and wound our way up the flinty sides of the huge bluff head whi