MY Letters are so long, that it is hard to believe when I finish them, that I have any thing else more to tell you; yet, my dear Cousin, I never close any, but there remains still sufficient for another: When I were onely to speak to you of my Friendship, this would be an inexhaustible Subject; you may make some Judgment of it from the Pleasure I find in obeying your Commands. You are desirous to know all the Particulars of my Voyage, I will therefore go on to relate them:

I set out very late from Victoria, by reason of my stay at the Governness’s, whom I before mention’d; and we went to lie at Miranda; the Country is very pleasant as far as Avigny; we came afterwards by a difficult Way to the Banks of the River Urola, whose Noise is the greater, in that ’tis full of Rocks, on which the Water dashes, beats up, and falls down, and forms natural Cascades in several places: We continu’d to ascend the high Mountains of the Pyrenees, where we ran a thousand several Dangers: we saw the ancient Ruines of an old Castle, where Ghosts and Spirits have their Apartments, as well as in that of Quebara, it is near Gargason; and being to stop there to shew my Pasport, because here certain Customs are paid to the King, I learnt from the Alcade of the Borough, who drew near my Litter to talk with me, that it is the common Report of the Country, That there were formerly a King and a Queen here, who had so fine and beautiful a Woman to their Daughter, that she was rather taken for a Goddess than a Mortal Creature: she was call’d Mira; and it is from her Name came the Mira of the Spaniards, which is to say, ‘Look you’; for as soon as ever she appear’d, all the People attentively beheld her, and cried out, ‘Mira, Mira’; and here’s the Etymology of a Word drawn far enough. This Princess was never seen by any Body who became not desperately in love with her; but her Disdainfulness and Indifference made all her Lovers pine away: The famous Basilisk never kill’d so many People as the Beautiful and Dreadful Mira; she thus depopulated her Father’s Kingdom, and all the Countries thereabouts were full of the deceased and dying Lovers. After they had in vain Addrest themselves to her, they lastly applied themselves to Heaven, to demand Vengeance on her Cruelty: The Gods at length grew Angry, and the Goddesses were not much behind them in the Exercise of this Passion: so that to punish her, the Scourges of Heaven finish’d the Destruction of her Father’s Kingdom: In this general Calamity he consulted the Oracle, which told him, ‘That all these Miseries would not have an end, till Maria had expiated the Mischiefs which her Eyes had done; and that she must be gone: That Destiny would conduct her to th’ place where she was to lose her repose and liberty.’ The Princess obey’d, believing it imposible for her to be touch’d with Tenderness: She carried only her Nurse with her; she was clad like a simple Shepherdess, lest she should be taken notice of, whether at Sea or Land. She ran over a great Part of the World, committing every day two or three Dozen of Murthers; for her Beauty was not diminisht by the Fatigue of her Travels: She arriv’d at length near this old Castle, which belong’d to a young Count, call’d Nios, endowed with a thousand Perfections, but extream Proud and Reserv’d: he spent his time in the Woods; as soon as ever he perceiv’d a Woman, he fled from her, and of all Things he saw in the World, she was his greatest Aversion. The beautiful Mira was resting herself one day under the shade of some Trees, when Nios past by, cloathed with a Lion’s Skin, a Bow at his Girdle, and a Mace on his Shoulder; his Hair was all clotted together, and his Face be-smear’d like a Chimney-Sweeper’s, (this Circumstance is observable) yet the Princess thought him the most handsome Man in the World; she ran after him as if she had been mad; and he ran from her as if he had been in the same condition: she lost the sight of him; she knew not where to find him: she is now in the greatest Sorrow, weeping Day and Night with her Nurse. Nios return’d to the Chase; she saw him again, and would have follow’d him: as soon as he perceiv’d her, he did as at first, and Mira betook herself again to her Lamentations; but her Passion giving her new strength, she out-ran him, stopt him, taking hold of his Locks, intreating him to look on her, thinking this was enough to engage him: He cast his Eyes on her with as much Indifference as if she had been an ordinary Person. Never Woman was more surpriz’d; she would not leave him; she came maugre him to his Castle: where, as soon as she had entred, he there left her, and was no more seen. The poor Mira, being not to be comforted, died with Grief: And from that time you hear deep Sighs and Groans which come from the Castle of Nios. The young Wenches of the Country are used to go there, and carry her little Presents of Fruits and Milk, which they set down at the Mouth of a Cave, where no body dare enter: they said, this was to comfort her; but this has been abolisht as superstitious. And though I believed not a word of whatever was told me at Garganson, in relation to Mira and Nios, yet I was pleas’d in the Recital of this Story, of which I omit a thousand Particulars, for fear of tiring you by its length. My Waiting-woman was so affected with this Relation, that she was for having us return back again, to set at the Mouth of the Cave some red Partridges, which my People had bought: she imagin’d the Princess’s Ghost would be mightily comforted in receiving this Testimony of our good Will; but for my part, I thought I should be more content than her, in having those Partridges for my Supper. We past the River of Urola, on a great Stone-Bridge, and having went over another, with difficulty enough, by reason of the melted Snow, we arriv’d at Miranda d’ Ebro; this is a great Village, or a little Town: here is a large place adorn’d with a Fountain; the River Ebro, which is one of the most considerable of Spain, traverses it: You see on the Top of a Mountain the Castle, with several Towers; it appears to be of some strength; and there issues out so great a Stream from a Rock on which it is built, that it turns several Mills: I could not observe any thing else worth writing to you.

The three Knights I spake of to you, were arriv’d before me, and giv’n all requisite Orders for Supper; so we eat together: And tho’ the Night appear’d well advanced, because the Days are short in this Season, yet ’twas not late; so that these Gentlemen, who shew’d me great Respect and Civility, askt me, How I would pass the time? I proposed to them the playing at Ombre, and that I would go Halves with Don Fernand de Toledo. They accepted the Offer: Don Fernand de Cardonne said, He had rather Converse with me than Play: so the three others began, and I for some time gave myself over to the looking on them, with great Pleasure, for their Way is quite different from ours: They never utter a word; I do not say, to complain, (for this would be unworthy the Spanish Gravity) but to demand a gano, or to cut higher, or to shew that one may take some other Advantage: In a word, they seem to be Statues, or Pieces of German Clockwork, never appearing transported with either good or bad Luck. Among other Discourse which I had with D. Fred. de Cardonne, he told me, There were two observable things in Catalonia, one of which is a Mountain of Salt, partly white as Snow, and the other part clearer and more transparent than Chrystal: that there is Blue, Green, Violet, Orange, and a thousand different Colours, which yet loses its tincture when wetted; it continually forms itself, and grows there: and though commonly the places where Salt is to be found, are so barren, that you see not so much as an Herb, yet there are here Pine-Trees of great height, and excellent Vineyards: When the Sun darts its Rays on this Mountain, it looks as if it wholly consisted of the most precious Stones in the World: but the best of it is, that it yields a good Revenue.

The other Particular he mentioned to me, was of a Fountain, whose Water is very good, and of the same Colour as Claret: ‘I have never heard any thing of this,’ said I to him, ‘but one of my Relations, who has been in Catalonia, has assured me there is a Fountain near Balut, whose Water is as others are for Colour, and yet whatever you put therein, appears like Gold.’ ‘I have seen it, Madam,’ continued Don Frederic; ‘and I remember a Man that was very covetous, and more foolish, went thither every Day to put therein his Silver, hoping in time ’twould be chang’d into Gold; but he was so far from enriching himself that he was ruin’d; for some Peasants, more subtle and crafty than he, having perceived what he did, stood watching a little lower, and the Stream of the Water would now and then bring some Pieces to them. If you return into France by Catalonia,’ added he, ‘you will see this Fountain,’ ‘It is not that which can draw me thither,’ reply’d I, ‘but the desire of passing by Montserat, wou’d make me undertake a longer Journey.’ ‘It is situated,’ said he, ‘near Barcelona, and is a place of great Devotion: It seems as if the Rock were sawed through the middle; the Church stands high, is small and obscure. By the help of the Fourscore and Ten Lamps of Silver, you perceive the Image of the Virgin, which looks very duskish, and is held for miraculous. The Altar cost Philip the Second thirty thousand Crowns; and here is every Day seen Pilgrims from all Parts of the World; this Holy Place abounds with Hermitages, inhabited by Persons of great Devotion: These are commonly Men of good Birth, who have not left the World till they have well tryed it, and who appear much taken with the Sweets of their Retirements, though the Place be dismal; and ’twould been impossible to have had access to it, had not a Passage been cut through the Rocks. Yet you find here several agreeable Objects, a curious Prospect, various Springs, Gardens well drest by these Religioses own hands, and every where a certain Air of Solitude and Devotion, which mightily affects those who come there. We have another famous place of Devotion,’ added he, ‘and that is Nuestra Senora del Pilar: it is at Saragossa, in a Chappel on a Pillar of Marble, where our Lady holds the Babe Jesus in her Arms. It is pretended, that the Virgin appeared on this same Pillar to St. James; and the Image is here worshipt with great Reverence. It cannot be well observ’d, because it stands so high, and in a very dark place; so that without the Flambeaux it could not be seen at all. Here are always Fifty Lamps burning; Gold and precious Stones shine here on all sides; and the Pilgrims come here in great Sholes. But yet,’ says he, ‘I may truly say, in favour of Saragossa that ’tis one of the finest Towns you shall see; it is situated along the Ebre, in a vast Field, is adorn’d with great Buildings, rich Churches, a stately Bridge, fine open Places, and the most charming Women in the World, who love French, and will omit nothing to oblige you to speak well of ’em, if you pass by there.’ I told him, I had already heard several things spoken of them to their commendation: ‘But,’ continu’d I, ‘this Country is very Barren, and the Souldiers can hardly subsist in it.’ ‘In effect,’ replied he, ‘whether the Air be bad, or that they want Necessaries, the Flemmings and Germans cannot live there; and if they do not die there, ’tis because they run away. The Spaniards and Neopolitans are more prone than they to desert; these last pass through France, to return into their Country; the others Coast the Pyrenees along Languedoc, and enter Castille by Navarre, or Biscaye. This is a Course which the old Souldiers fail not to steer; for the new-rais’d ones, they perish in Catalonia, being not accustomed thereto; and ’tis certain there’s no place where War is more troublesome to the King of Spain: He maintains his Forces here with great Charge, and the Advantage which the Enemy gains of him is not small; and I very well know they are more sensible at Madrid for the smallest Loss in Catalonia, than they would be for the greatest in Flanders, or Milan, or else-where. But at present,’ continues he, ‘we are going to be more at our Ease than we have been, being expected at Court, that the Peace will be lasting, because they talk much of a Marriage which will make a new Alliance; and the Marquess de Los Balbares, Plenipotentiary at Nimiguen, has receiv’d Orders to pass speedily to France, to demand of that King, Mademoiselle d’ Orleans; therefore it is not doubted but the Marriage will be concluded: But it is thought very strange, Don John of Austria should consent to this Marriage.’ ‘You will do me a singular Pleasure,’ said I, interrupting him, ‘if you would inform me of some Particularities touching this Prince: It is natural for to have a Curiosity in relation to Persons of this Character; and when a body comes into a Court where one was never before, that I may not appear a Novice, I should have some previous Notices.’ He answered me, It would be a great satisfaction to him, if he could relate any thing might please me; and he began thus:

‘You will not, perhaps, Madam, think it amiss, that I begin at the Original of Things, and tell you, That this Prince was Son of one of the finest Women in Spain, named Maria Calderona; she was a Player, and the Duke de Medina de las Torres became desperately in love with her: This Cavalier had so many Advantages above others, that Calderonna lov’d him no less than she was beloved by him. In the Heat of this Intrigue, Philip the Fourth saw her, and preferr’d her to one of the Queen’s Maids of Honour, and who was so griev’d at this Change of the King, whom she really loved, and had a Son by, that she retired from the World, and betook herself to Las del Calsas Reales, where she put on the Religio’s Habit. As for Calderonne, her inclination lying wholly towards the Duke de Medina, she would not hearken to the King, without the Duke would thereto consent: She spake to him of it, and offered to withdraw secretly where he would; but the Duke fearing to incur the King’s Displeasure, answer’d her, He was resolv’d to yield up to His Majesty a Treasure which he was not in a Capacity to contend for. She made him a thousand Reproaches for this; she call’d him Traytor to his Love, ingrateful towards his Mistress: And moreover, told him, That though he was so Happy as that he could dispose of his Heart as he pleased, yet she could not do the same; and therefore he must continue to visit her, or prepare to see her die with Despair. The Duke affected with so great a Passion, promised to feign a Journey to Andalousia, and to remain with her hid in a Closet: he effectually parted from the Court, and afterwards shut himself up (as it was agreed) whatever Risque he ran by so imprudent Conduct. The King, in the mean time, was very Amorous, and remain’d very well satisfi’d: She had, during this, Don John d’Austria, and the Resemblance he had with the Duke de Medina de Las Torres, had made it be thought that he was his Son; but tho’ the King had other Children, and particularly the Bishop of Malaga, good Fortune decided in his Favour, and he has been only acknowledg’d.

‘Don John’s Friends say, That ’twas by reason of the Exchange which had been made of the Son of Calderonna, for the Son of Queen Elizabeth; and here’s how they set forth this Change, which is a Story made on purpose to impose on the World, and which I believe has no ground of Truth: They pretend, the King being desperately in love with this Player, she became big with Child at the same time as the Queen; and seeing the King’s Passion was so greatly towards her, that she might expect any thing, she so ordered it, that she made him promise her, That if the Queen had a Son, and she likewise, he should put hers in his place: “What will you lose by this, Sir?” said she, “Will it not be your Son that will still Reign, only with this difference, that loving me, as you say you do, you will love him likewise the better.” She had Wit, and the King could deny her nothing; he consented, and in effect the Business was manag’d with that Address, that the Queen being brought to Bed of a Son, and Calderonna of another, the Exchange was made. He that should have Reign’d, and who bore the Name of Baltazar, died at the Age of fourteen Years: The King was told, ’twas with over-heating himself at Tennis; but the truth is, this Prince was suffered to keep bad Company, which procured for him his Misfortunes; it is said likewise, That Don Pedro d’Arragon, his Governour, and Chief Gentleman of his Chamber, more contributed to this than any other, suffering him to bring into his Apartment a Woman he lov’d; after this he was taken with a violent Fever, and conceal’d the Occasion: The Phisicians who were ignorant of it, thought to ease him by frequent Bleedings, which put an end to what strength he had; and by this means they ended his Life. The King knowing, but too late, what had hapn’d, banisht Don Pedro for not hindring this Excess, or for not having timely discover’d it.

‘In the mean time Don John of Austria, who was brought up as the Natural Son, chang’d not his Condition, though this ought to have been, had he been indeed the lawful Son; yet notwithstanding this, his Creatures affirm, He so exactly resembles Q. Elizabeth, that she needs no other Picture of her Likeness. And this Opinion fails not of gaining Belief with the People, who run violently after Novelties, and who so Passionately loved this great Queen, that they bewail her still as if she was but now deceas’d. It is true, that if Don John of Austria would make his Advantage of the favourable Dispositions of the People, he has met with several Opportunities of extending his Fortune very far; but his only Aim is to serve the King, and to keep his Subjects in those Sentiments of Fidelity they ought to have for him.

‘To return to Calderonna: The King surprized one day the Duke de Medina with her, and in the excess of his Rage, he ran to him with his Poynard in his Hand; he was about to kill him, when this Woman placed herself between, telling him, He might strike her if he would. Having the most extream Passion for her, he could not but Pardon him, contenting himself only with banishing him: But understanding she continu’d to love him, and write to him, he studied only how to get a new Passion; when he had one strong enough not to apprehend the Charms of Calderonna, he sent word to her to retire into a Monastery, as is customary when the King forsakes his Mistress. She put it not off, writing a Letter to the Duke, to bid him Adieu: And she receiv’d the Veil of a Religio from the Hand of the Apostolick Nuncio, who became since Innocent X. It is very likely the King believ’d Don John was his real Son, seeing he loved him so dearly: One thing will appear to you very singular, which is, that a King of Spain having Natural Sons owned by him, they never enter Madrid during his Life: So Don John was brought up at Ocanna, which is some Leagues distant from it. The King, his Father, came oft thither, and he made him come even to the Gates of the Town, where he went to meet him. This Custom comes from that the Grandees of Spain dispute the Rank which these Princes would hold. Don John, before he went into Catalonia, remain’d commonly at Buen Retiro, which is a Royal Seat, at one of the farthest parts of Madrid, a little without the Gate: And he shew’d himself so little, that he was never seen at any Publick Feast during the Life of the late King: but since, Times have chang’d, and his Fortunes stand on a different bottom.

‘Whilst the Queen, Maria Ann of Austria, Sister to the Emperour, and the King’s Mother, Govern’d Spain; and her Son was not yet of Age to hold the Reigns of the State. She would have always Don John keep from the Court; and moreover, found herself so capable of Governing, that she had a mind to ease her Son for a long time of the Burden of Ruling. She was not troubled to see him ignorant of whatever might give a desire of Reigning: but though she brought the greatest Precautions, to hinder him from feeling he was under too strict a Tutelage, and suffered no Persons to come near him, but those she was well assured of; yet this hindred not but some of the King’s Faithful Servants hazarded themselves, by giving him to understand what he might do for his Liberty. He follow’d the Advice was given him; and in fine, having taken Measures accordingly, he stole away one Night, and went to Buen Retiro. He as soon sent from thence an Order to the Queen his Mother, not to stir out of the Palace.

‘Don John is of a middle Stature, well-shaped, Black and lively Eyes, and a most Manly Countenance. He is Polite, Generous, and very Brave. He is ignorant of nothing befitting his Birth, being well-verst in all Arts and Sciences. He writes and speaks very well Five Languages, and understands yet more. He has for a long time studied Judicial Astrology. There is no Instrument which he cannot make, and use with the best Masters. He works on all kinds of Mechanicks, makes Arms, and paints finely. He took a great Pleasure in the Mathematicks; but being charg’d with the Government of the State, he has been oblig’d to lay aside all other Employments.

‘He came to Buen-Retiro in the beginning of the Year 1677, and as soon as he was there, he sent the Queen-Mother to Toledo, because she had declared against him, and hindred his return to the King. Don John had an extream Joy in receiving from the King’s own Hand an Order to take Care of Every thing, and to manage the Affairs of the Kingdom: And ’twas not without occasion he discharged himself on him, seeing he then was ignorant of the Art of Reigning. It was alledg’d for a Reason of his slow Education, That the King his Father was dying when he gave him Life: That when he came into the World, they were fain to put him in a Box of Cotten, being so tender and small, that he could not be swadled: That he was brought up in the Arms, and on the Knees of the Ladies of the Palace, till he was Ten Years old, without putting his Foot once all this while on the Ground to walk: That in the Sequel the Queen his Mother, who was engaged by all the Ties of Natural Duty to preserve this only Heir of the Spanish Branch, fearing to lose him, dared not let him study, lest by too great an Application he should lose his Health, which in truth was very unsound: And ’twas observ’d, that the great Number of Women, with whom the King always was, and who too sharply reprehended him for his Faults which he committed, had inspired him with such a great Aversion to them, that as soon as ever he had notice a Lady staid for him in any place he was to pass, he stole another way, or kept himself shut up all day in his Chamber. The Marchioness de Luz Veles, who was his Governess, told me, she waited for an Opportunity full six months to speak with him, and when Chance had brought them unavoidably to him, he took their Requests from their Hands, but turn’d his Head another way, for fear he should see them. His Health is since so increased, that his Marriage with the Arch-Dutchess, the Emperor’s Daughter, having been broke off by Don John, by reason ’twas the Queen-Mothers Project, he has desired to marry Mademoiselle d’ Orleans. The Circumstances of the Peace which are lately concluded at Nimiguen, made him cast his Eyes towards this Princess, with whose excellent Qualities, Madam, you are better acquainted than I.

‘It is hard to believe, that having Dispositions so far from Gallantry, he should become so suddenly and vehemently in love with the Queen, as he became on the only Rehearsal of her good Qualities, and at the sight of her Picture in Minature, which was shew’d him. He never lets it go out of his Hand; he always holds it to his Heart; He Dialogues with it so prettily, as astonishes all the Courtiers; for he speaks a Language he never spoke: His Passion for the Princess furnishes him with a thousand Thoughts, which he dares not entrust any body with. He thinks no body makes haste enough; and therefore sends fresh Curriers every day to carry his Billets doux, and bring back News of her.

‘When you come to Madrid,’ added he, ‘you will hear, Madam, several Particulars which have without doubt hapned since I was there, and which will perhaps more satisfie your Curiosity than what I have related to you.’ ‘I am very much oblig’d to you,’ answer’d I, ‘for your Civilities; but do me the Favour to oblige me farther, in giving me the true Character of the Spaniards: You know them, and I am perswaded nothing has escap’d your Enquiries; You speaking to me without Passion and Interest, I may reckon my self sure of what you tell me.’ ‘Why believe you, Madam,’ replied he smiling, ‘that I shall speak to you more sincerely than another? There are Reasons which may render me suspected: They are my Masters; I must manage them; And if I be not Politick enough to do it, the Vexation of being constrained to obey them, would tempt me to entertain Notions in their Respect contrary to Truth.’ ‘However it be,’ said I, interrupting him, ‘pray tell me what you know of them.’

‘The Spaniards,’ said he, ‘have always past for Fierce and Glorious: This Glory is mixt with Gravity; and they carry it so far, that one may call it an extravagant Pride: They are Brave, without being Rash; yet they are accused for not being daring enough. They are Cholerick, Revengeful, without shewing any Transport, Liberal without Ostentation, sober in their diet, very Presumptuous in Prosperity, too Rampant in Adversity: They Idolize Women; they are so prepossest in their Favour, that they shew no Discretion in the Choice of their Wives: They are Patient to Excess, Obstinate, Idle, Singular, Philosophisers: And as to the rest, Men of Honour, keeping their Words, tho it cost ’em their Lives. They have a great deal of Wit and Vivacity, easily comprehend, explain themselves in the same manner, and in few Words; They are Prudent, Jealous without measure, Disinterested, bad Oeconomists, Close, Superstitious, great Catholicks, at least in appearance: They are good Poets, and write Verses with great Facility. They would be capable of Nobler Sciences, would they vouchsafe to apply themselves thereto.

‘They have a Greatness of Soul, Elevated Wit, Constancy, a Natural Seriousness, and a Respect for Ladies, as is not seen elsewhere: They have a Set-Behaviour, full of Affectation, intoxicated with their own Merit, hardly ever in this Particular doing Right to that of others. Their Bravery consists in standing Valiantly on the Defensive Part, without giving Ground, and without dreading Danger; but they love not to seek it, which proceeds from their great Judgment: They discern Danger, and avoid it. Their greatest Defect, in my Opinion, is the Passion of Revenge, and the Means they use for this: Their Maxims hereupon are absolutely opposite to Christianity and Honour: When they have receiv’d an Affront, they make him be Assassinated who has offered it. They are not contented with this; for they cause them to be Assassinated likewise whom they have offended, in the Apprehension of being prevented, knowing well, that if they do not kill, they shall be kill’d themselves. They pretend to justifie themselves herein, when they say, That their Enemy having took the first Advantage, they ought to secure themselves of the second: That should they fail herein, they would wrong their Reputation: That you must not fight with a Man that has insulted over you, but put your self in a Condition to punish him, without running half the Danger. It is true, that Impunity authorises this Conduct; for the Priviledge of Churches and Convents in Spain, is to give an assured Retreat to Criminals; And as near as they can, they commit these Villanies hard by a Sanctuary, to have the less way to an Altar; Which you see oft embraced by a Villain, with his Poynard reeking in his Hand, and be-smeared with the Blood of the Murther which he has committed.

‘As to their Persons, they are very lean, little, fine shape, comely Head, good Faces, fine Eyes, well-set Teeth, yellow and duskish Complexion; they will have one walk slowly, commend big Legs, and a little Foot, Shooes without Heels, parting the Hair on both sides, being strait cut, and kept behind their Ears with a great Two-handed Hat, an Habit always Black, instead of a Shirt, Taffity Sleeves, or black Tabby, a Sword of a strange length, with a black Freize Cloak over all this, very strait Breeches, hanging Sleeves, and a Poynard. All this must so dis-figure a Man, let him be otherwise never so well-shaped, that they seem to affect a Garb the most disagreeable; And ones Eyes cannot with any Complacency accustom themselves to this sight.’

Don Frederick would have continued on his Discourse, and I had so much pleasure in hearing him, that I would not have interrupted him; but he broke off himself, having observ’d that the Play was at an end, and considering, that we were to set out early next Morning, he thought I might be desirous of retiring; he therefore with the other Gentlemen, bad me good Night. I rose in effect very soon next Morning, because ’twas a great Journey to Birbiesca, where we intended to lie. We follow’d the River to avoid the Mountains, and past at Oron, a great River, which falls into the Ebre. We a while after entred into so strait a Way, that our Litters could scarce pass: We ascended along a very strait Coast to Pancorvo, whose Castle I saw standing on a rais’d Ground, not far distant: We traverst a great Plain; and this was a Novelty to us, to see an even Country: This here is surrounded with several Mountains, which seem linkt together as a Chain, and especially those of Occa: We must again pass over a little River, before we can come to Birbiesca: This is only a Borough, which has nothing remarkable but its Colledge, and some few pleasant Gardens along the Water. But I may say, we came thither in worse Weather than any we had yet: I was so tired, that as soon as I arriv’d I went to Bed: so that I saw not Don Fernand de Toledo, and the other Gentlemen, till the next Day, at Cartel de Peones. But I should tell you how one is serv’d in these Inns, they being all alike: When you come into one of them, wearied and tired, roasted by the heat of the Sun, or frozen by the Snows (for there is seldom any Temperament between these Two Extreams), you see neither Pot on the Fire, nor Plates wash’d: You enter into the Stable, and from thence to your Chamber; this Stable is ordinarily full of Mules and Muletteers, who make use of their Mules Saddles for Pillows in the night, and in the day-time they serve ’em for Tables: They eat very friendly with their Mules, and are very good Company together.

The Stair-Case by which you go up is very strait, and does rather resemble a sorry Ladder: La Sennoro de la Casa receives you with her Gown tuckt up, and her dangling Sleeves; she takes time to put on her Sunday-Cloathes, whilst you get out of your Litter: and she never omits this; for they are all very Poor and Vain Glorious. You are shewed a Chamber, whose Walls are white enough, hung with a thousand little scurvy Pictures of Saints; the Beds are without Curtains, the Covertures of Cotton, the Sheets as large as Napkins, and the Napkins like Pocket-handkerchiefs; and you must be in some considerable Town to find four or five of them; for in other places there are none, no more than there are Forks: They have only a Cup in the House; and if the Mule-Drivers get first hold of it, which commonly happens, if they please, (for they are serv’d with more Respect than those whom they bring) you must stay patiently till they have done with it, or drink out of an Earthen Pitcher. It is impossible to warm one at the Kitchin-fire, without being choaked, for they have no Chimneys; and ’tis the same in all the Houses on the Road; there is an Hole made in the top of the Ceiling, and the Smoak goes out thence; the Fire is in the midst of the Kitchin: They put what you would have roasted on Tiles, and when ’tis well gril’d on one side, they turn the other: when ’tis gross Meat, they fasten it to a String, and so let it hang on the Fire, and turn it with their Hands; so that the Smoak makes it so black, that it would turn ones Stomach to look on it.

I think there cannot be a better Representation of Hell than these sort of Kitchins, and the Persons in them; for not to speak of this horrible Smoak, which blinds and choaks one, they are a Dozen of Men, and as many Women, blacker than Devils, nasty and stinking like Swine, and clad like Beggars. There are always some of ’em impudently grating on a sorry Guitar, and singing like a Cat a roasting. The Women have all of ’em their Hair about their Ears, and you would take ’em for Bedlamites; they have Glass Necklaces, which hang twisted about their Necks like Ropes of Onions, but however serve to cover the Nastiness of their Skin. They are as great Thieves as any are in Jayls, and they are urgent to serve you only to have an opportunity to steal something of you, though it be but a Pin.

Before all things, the Mistress of the House brings you her little Children, who are bareheaded in the midst of Winter, though but of a Day old: she makes ’em touch your Cloaths, she rubs their Eyes with them, their Cheeks, Throat, and Hands. This seems as if one was become a Relick, and could heal all Diseases. These Ceremonies over, you are askt, If you will eat any thing; and though at Mid-night, you must send to the Butchery, the Market, the Tavern, the Bakers; in fine, to all parts of the Town, to gather wherewith to make a sorry Meal. For though the Mutton here be very tender, their way of frying it with Oyl, is not to every Bodies Relish. Here are great store of Partridges, and those very large; they are not very fat, but dry; and to make ’em drier, they roast ’em to a Coal. The Pidgeons here are excellent; and in several places here is good Fish, especially Bessugosses, which have the taste of a Trout, and of which they make Pasties, which would be good, were they not stuff’d with Garlick, Saffron, and Pepper. Their Bread is white enough, and sweet, that one would think it made up with Sugar; but it is ill wrought, and so little baked, that it is as heavy as Lead in the Stomach: it has the shape of a flat Cake, and is not much thicker than one’s finger. The Wine is good, and Fruits in their season, especially Grapes, which are very large, and of delicate taste. You may reckon yourself certain of a good Desart. You have Sallads here of such good Lettice as the World cannot afford better.

Do not think (Dear Cousin) ’tis sufficient to say, Go fetch such things, to have them; for not very seldom you can meet with nothing: But supposing you find what you would have, you must give out your Money beforehand: so that your Meat is paid for before you have begun to eat it; for the Master of the Inn is only allowed to Lodge you: they alledge for a Reason, That it is not just one only Person should go away with all the Profit from Travellers, it being better the Money should be dispersed.

You enter not any Inn to Dine, but carry your Provision with you, and stop at the Bank of some River, where the Mule-Drivers bate their Mules; and this is with Oats or Barley, with chopt Straw, which they carry with them in great Sacks; for as to Hay they give ’em none. It is not allow’d a Woman to tarry above two Days in an Inn on the Road, unless she can offer good Reasons. And here’s enough in relation to Inns, and the Manner of your Treatment therein.

After Supper these Gentlemen play’d at Ombre, and I not being strong enough to play against them, I went shares with Don Frederic de Cardonne; and Don Fernand drew near the Fireside to me; he told me, He could have wisht my time would permit me to pass by Vailladolid; that it is the most pleasant Town of Old Castille, it having been for a great while the Mansion of the Kings of Spain; and that they have a Palace there fit for them. That as to him, he had Relations there would be infinitely pleased to Entertain me; and would shew me the Dominicans Church, which the Dukes of Lerma have founded; that it was very Stately, and the Portal of singular Beauty, by means of the Figures and Embossed Work, which enrich it: That in the Colledge of the same Convent the French see there with great satisfaction, all the Walls full of Flower de Luces; it being said, a Bishop who depended on the King of France, had been at the Charge of Painting them. He added, They would have carried me to the Religioses of St. Claire, to shew me in the Choir of their Church, the Tomb of a Castillan Knight, whence ’tis said, issues out Accents and Groans every time any of his Family are near their Deaths. I smiled at this, as being doubtful of the Truth of such kind of Relations: ‘You give not Credit to what I say,’ continued he, ‘neither would I engage for the Truth of it, though all the Country thereabouts are so fully perswaded of it, that you would be suspected for an Heretick should you question it. But it is certain there is a Bell in Arragon, in a small Town call’d Villilla, on the Ebre, which is about fifty Foot compass, and it happens sometimes to sound of itself, it being not perceiveable to be agitated by any Winds or Earthquakes: In a word, by no visible thing. It first Tolls, and afterwards, by intervals, Rings out, as well in the Day as the Night: When it is heard, it is not doubted but it denounces some sad Accident; which is what happened in 1601, on Thursday the 13th of June, till Saturday the 15th of the same Month; it ceased then to Ring, but it began again on Corpus Christi, when they were on the point of making the Procession. It was heard likewise when Alphonsus the Fifth, K. of Arragon, went into Italy to take Possession of the Kingdom of Naples. It was heard at the Death of Charles the Fifth. It denoted the Departure of Don Sebastion, King of Portugal, for Africk. The Extremity of King Philip the Second: and the Decease of his last Wife Q. Ann.’ ‘You would have me to believe you, Don Fernand,’ said I; ‘Perhaps I shall seem too obstinate in standing out all this while, but you will agree these are Matters one may lawfully doubt of.’ ‘Nay, Madam,’ replied he, with a pleasant Air, ‘I tell you nothing but what I can have a thousand Witnesses to justifie; but perhaps you will sooner believe Don Esteve de Carvajal in a thing as extraordinary in his Country.’ He at the same time call’d to him, demanding of him, ‘Whether ’twere not true, that there is in the Convent of CordoÜa a Clock which fails not to Ring every time a Religious is to die; so that the time is known to a Day?’ Don Esteve confirm’d what Don Fernand said: and though I remain’d not absolutely convinc’d, yet I made a shew as if I was.

‘You pass so quickly through Old Castille,’ continued Don Fernand, ‘that you will not have time to see what’s most remarkable: The Picture of the Blessed Virgin is talkt of far and near, which was found miraculously stampt on a Rock; it belongs to the Religio’s Augustines d’ Avila, and several Persons go there out of Devotion; but one has no less Curiosity to see certain Mines of Salt, which are near there, in a village call’d Mengraville; you descend above two hundred Steps under Ground, and then enter into a vast Cavern form’d by Nature, whose Top, or Roof, is upheld by one only Pillar of Chrystalin Salt, of astonishing Largeness and Colour. Near this place, in the Town of Soria, you see a great Bridge without a River, and a great River without a Bridge, the River being forc’d out of its place by an Earthquake.

‘But if you go as far as Medina del Campo,’ added he, ‘I am sure the Inhabitants will give you a welcome Entrance, only because you are of the French Nation, whom they much affect, to distinguish themselves hereby from the Sentiments of the other Castillians: Their Town is so priviledg’d that the K. of Spain has not the Power to create any Officers, nor the Pope to confer Benefices: this Right belongs to the Townsmen, and they often fall together by the Ears, in the chusing of their Magistrates and Ecclesiasticks.

‘One of the Rarities of this Country is the Aquaduct of Segovia, which is five Leagues in length; it has above two hundred Arches of extraordinary heighth, tho’ in several places there are two standing on one another; and ’tis all built on Free Stone, there having been no Mortar, or any Cement to joyn them: This is lookt on as one of the Romans Works, or at least as worthy to be so. The River which is at the end of the Town surrounds the Castle, and serves it for a Ditch; it is built on a Rock. Among several things remarkable, you see the Effigies of the Kings of Spain, who have Reign’d for several Years: And there is no Town but Segovia and Seville where Money is Coyned, and the Pieces of Eight which are made at the former Places are held to be the best; and this is by means of the River which turns certain Mills that stamp the Money. Here are likewise most curious Walks along a Meadow planted with Elm Trees, whose Leaves are so thick and large, that the greatest Heats of the Sun cannot pierce them.’ ‘I want not Curiosity,’ said I to him, ‘for all things which deserve it; but I at present want Time to see them: However, I should be very glad to arrive timely at Burgos, to view the Town.’ ‘Which is to say, Madam,’ replied Don Fernand, ‘we must lose your Company, and let you retire.’

He gave notice thereof to the other Gentlemen, who gave over their Play, and we thus separated.

I rose this Morning before Day; and I end this Letter at Burgos, where I now arrived: Thus, Dear Cousin, I shall send you nothing of this Day, but shall take the first occasion to acquaint you with what befals me.