"bare fare," disregarding the look of impotent fury the fellow casts upon us as we enter the station.

The ticket-office consists but of one large whitewashed room containing a buffet, a cigar stall, and the despacho para billetes, a small pigeon-hole to which all have to fight their way to procure their tickets. Of course I leave all this to Julio, and at 8 P. M. we find ourselves once more on the rail, bound for Alicante. This time our party consists of two Spanish civil engineers (very civil they afterwards prove); a stout old gentleman; his better half, a shrewish old dame, with 'the "hi of an awk;" their niece, a beautiful creature with a fair complexion and rich golden hair; and their servant, a strapping handsome lass, to whom the engineers are remarkably, and I think officiously attentive, for the poor wench gets but little sleep the whole night. Cigars -O tempora! O mores!-are speedily produced, for Spanish ladies do not at all object to smoking, and my own private "cutty" being soon in full operation, the consumption of tobacco and dense fumes of smoke become really terrific. To my English notions, the thing at first seems scandalous, but the novelty is decidedly agreeable, and I feel little disposed to question its propriety. Finding that one of the engineers speaks French, I get into conversation with

him, and as night advances, persuade him to take me on to the locomotive, though he makes it a sine quâ non that I shall lend him my cape for the ride.

The night is dark as Erebus, the country flat and bare as the desert. With a deafening scream off we The engine-driver, a Spaniard, keeps inciting the wretched stoker to fresh exertions every moment, shoving in coke in the most reckless manner, till the steam fairly roars out of the safety-valve, when, of course, open flies the furnace-door and out rush the flames. Then the infatuated creature is continually turning on the gauge-cocks to make sure of the boiler supply, so that what with one thing and another, I am roasted in the legs, drenched in the body, and frozen in the head from the rush of the bleak night air. After a run of about twenty miles, heartily sick of this mode of travelling, which affords but little scope to my inquisitive turn of mind, I return to the carriage, where Julio is affecting to be soundly asleep. The sly dog! I strongly suspect that he has been otherwise engaged during my absence, and the empressement with which he takes leave of the ladies in the morning, goes far to confirm my suspicions. At about 4 A. M. we stop at Albacete, a thriving town, called the Sheffield of Spain, where are manufactured the puñales and cuchillos, long

pointed knives, so often used for murderous purposes by this excitable, hot-blooded race. Here the engineers leave us, and we continue our journey with the old couple and the young females. The former are apparently buried in profound repose, though I cannot but persuade myself that the stern old lady is sleeping with one eye open, which is watching me with spectral glare. That basilisk optic haunts me in my broken slumbers like a hideous nightmare. As the poor bird, transfixed with horror, gazes entranced at the advancing form of the deadly serpent, so do I encounter with shuddering awe the eye of that fearful old woman. The lovely señora sees it not, nor does the handsome Abigail, and I am prepared to take a solemn affidavit that my gallant comrade does not observe it: I alone am under its spell, and vainly endeavouring to shake off its baneful influence by resolutely gazing at the rising sun, the fiery orb seems to dilate and resolves itself into a human eye. Heaven and earth, it is too much! I collapse into my seat and stare fixedly at nothing, till on the arrival of the train at a station near Noveldar, a movement is made by our fellowtravellers, and to my inexpressible relief they quit the carriage after a ceremonious and courteous adios. The ban is removed; I feel a mighty weight lifted from my chest, and in joyful mood join with Julio

ARRIVAL AT ALICANTE.

65

in a jovial chorus, before the termination of which the train is rapidly approaching its destination.

We are now surrounded by lofty, rugged mountains, yellow and bare, without the slightest sign of vegetation. The outline of the hills is picturesque : the hard profile of the craggy rocks and deserts of stone, glittering in the already burning rays of the morning sun, form a truly Arabian picture, and one would scarcely feel surprised to see a train of camels issuing from any of the defiles we are rapidly passing.

Suddenly Julio pokes his head out of the window and exclaims in hearty accents, "There is Alicante !" I look forth and in the distance descry a lofty rock towering above the horizon. That rock is Alicante: in a few minutes we run into the station and are at our journey's end.

F

THE BULL-RING-ALICANTE.

CHAPTER IV.

I REACH THE FIRST STAGE OF MY JOURNEY, PAUSE,

AND START AFRESH.

THE first stage of my scamper is reached, and I resolve to rest awhile from the fatigues of travelling before again girding my loins for a fresh start. But my determination is not altogether voluntary: having done so much, seen so much, suffered so much, and enjoyed so much, it is now absolutely necessary should halt for a few days to recruit my wearied frame, and defer my departure from Alicante till the ensuing Saturday. Nor had I cause to regret my