“MAS vale paxaro en mano, que buytre volando"—AnglicÈ, a bird in the hand is worth more than a vulture flying—is a proverb that cannot be too strongly impressed upon the minds of travellers in Spain; and, acting up to the spirit of this wise saw, we did not leave our comfortable quarters at the Posada de la Corona until after having made sure of a breakfast. For, deeming even a cup of milk at Marbella worth more than a herd of goats up the sierra, there appeared yet more reason to think that no venta on the unfrequented mountain track by which we purposed returning to Malaga could furnish anything half so estimable as the cafÉ au lait promised overnight, and placed before us soon after daybreak.

We commenced ascending the steep side of the Sierra de Juanal immediately on leaving Marbella, and, in something under an hour, reached a pass, on the summit of a ridge, whence a lovely view opens to the north. The little town of Ojen lies far down below, embosomed in a thicket of walnut, chesnut, and orange trees; whilst all around rise lofty sierras, clothed, like the valley, with impervious woods, though with foliage of a darker hue, their forest covering consisting principally of cork and ilex. Numerous torrents, (whose foaming streams can only occasionally be seen dashing from rock to rock amidst the dense foliage) furrow the sides of the impending ridges, directing their course towards the little village, threatening, seemingly, to overwhelm it by their united strength; but, wasting their force against the cragged knoll on which it stands, they collect in one body at its foot, and, as if exhausted by the struggle, flow thenceforth tranquilly towards the Mediterranean, meandering through rich vineyards, and under verdant groves of arbutus, orange, and oleander.

Excepting by this outlet, along the precipitous edge of which our road was practised, there seemed to be no possibility of leaving the sylvan valley, so completely is it hemmed in by wood and mountain. The descent from the pass occupied nearly as much time as had been employed in clambering up to it from the sea-coast, but the road is better.

The situation of the little town, on the summit of a scarped rock, clustered over with ivy and wild vines, and moistened by the spray of the torrents that rush down on either side, is most romantic; the place, however, is miserable in the extreme, containing some two hundred wretched hovels, mostly mud-built, and huddled together as if for mutual support.

An ill-conditioned pavÉ zigzags up to it, and proceeds onwards along the edge of a deep ravine towards Monda. The woods, rocks, and water afford ever-varying and enchanting vistas, but, from the vile state of the road, it is somewhat dangerous to pay much attention to the beauties of nature.

In something more than an hour from Ojen, we reached a pass in the northern part of the mountain-belt that girts it in, whence we took a last lingering look at the lovely valley, compared to which the country now lying before us appeared tame and arid.

The fall of the mountain on the western side is much more gradual than towards the Mediterranean, and the road—which does not however improve in due proportion—descends by an easy slope towards the little river Seco. The valley, at first, is wide, open, and uncultivated; but, at the end of about a mile, it contracts to an inconsiderable breadth, and the steep hills that border it give signs of the husbandman’s toils, being every where planted with vines and olive trees.

Arriving now at the margin of the Seco, the road crosses and recrosses the rivulet repeatedly, in consequence of the rugged nature of its banks, and, at length, quitting the pebbly bed of the stream, and crossing over a lofty mountain ridge that overlooks it to the east, the stony track brings us to Monda, which is nestled in a deep ravine on the opposite side of the mountain, and commanded by an old castle situated on a rocky knoll to the north-west.

The view from the summit of this mountain is very extensive, embracing the greater portion of the Hoya de Malaga, the distant sea-bound city, and yet more remote sierras of Antequera, Alhama, and Granada. The descent to Monda is extremely bad, though by no means rapid. The distance of this place from Marbella is stated in the Spanish Itineraries to be three leagues, but the incessant windings of the road make it fourteen miles, at least. The houses of Monda are mostly poor, though some of the streets are wide and good. The population is estimated at 2,000 souls.

It is to this day a mooted question amongst Spanish antiquaries whether Monda, or Ronda la Vieja, (as some of them call the ruins of Acinippo), or any other of several supposed places, be the Roman Munda, where Cneius Scipio gave battle to the Carthaginian generals, Mago and Asdrubal, B.C. 211, and near whose walls Julius CÆsar concluded his wonderful career of victory by the defeat of Cneius Pompey the younger, B.C. 42.

From this discrepancy of opinion, and the inaccuracy of the Spanish maps, I am induced to offer the following observations (the result of a careful examination of the country), touching the site of this once celebrated spot. And, first, with respect to Ronda and Ronda la Vieja, I may repeat what I have already stated in a former chapter, that neither the situation of those places, nor the nature of the ground in their vicinity, agrees in any one respect with the description of Munda and its battle-field, as given by Hirtius;[181] nor, from discoveries that have recently been made, does there appear to be any ground left for doubting that those places occupy the sites of Arunda and Acinippo.

Of the other positions which have been assigned to Munda, that most insisted upon is a spot “three leagues to the west of the present town of Monda,”[182] and here Carter, adopting the opinion of Don Diego Mendoza, confidently places it, stating that bones of men and horses had, in former days, been dug up there; that the peasants called the spot Monda la Vieja, and averred they sometimes saw squadrons of apparitions fighting in the air with cries and shouts!

Such a host of circumstantial and phantasmagorical evidence our countryman considered irresistible, and concluded, accordingly, that this spot could be no other than that whereon the two mighty Roman armies contended for empire. He admits, however, that, even in the days of his precursor, Don Diego, “scarcely any ruins were to be found, the whole having by degrees been transplanted to modern Monda and other places.” Why they should have been carried three leagues across some of the loftiest mountains in the country, to be used merely as building stones, he does not attempt to explain, but, believing such to be the case, one wonders it never struck him as being somewhat extraordinary that these pugnacious ghosts should continue fighting for a town of which not a stone remains.

But, leaving Mr. Carter for the present, I will retrace my steps to modern Monda, where it must be acknowledged some little difficulty is experienced in fitting the Roman city to the spot allotted to it on the maps, as well as in placing the contending armies upon the ground in its neighbourhood, so as to agree with the order in which they were arrayed on the authority of Hirtius. Still, with certain admissions, which admissions I do not consider it by any means unreasonable to beg, all apparent discrepancies may be reconciled and difficulties overcome; and, on the other hand, unless these points be granted, Ronda, Gaucin, or Gibraltar agree just as well with the Munda of the Roman historian as the little town of Monda I am about to describe.

It will be necessary, however, for the perfect understanding of the subject,—and, I trust, my endeavour to establish the site of CÆsar’s last battle-field will be considered one of sufficient interest to warrant a little prolixity,—to take a glance at the country in the vicinity of Monda, ere proceeding to describe the actual ground whereon, according to my idea, the contending armies were drawn up; as it is only from a knowledge of the country, and of the communications that intersected it, that the reasons can be gathered for such a spot having been selected for a field of battle.

The old castle of Monda, under the walls of which we must suppose—for this is one of the premised admissions—the town to have been clustered, instead of being, as at present, sunk in a ravine, stands on the eastern side of a rocky ridge, projected in a northerly direction from the lofty and wide-spreading mountain-range, that borders the Mediterranean between Malaga and Estepona. This range is itself a ramification of the great mountain-chain that encircles the basin of Ronda, from which it branches off in a southerly direction, and under the names of Sierras of Tolox, Blanca, Arboto, and Juanal, presents an almost impassable barrier between the valley of the Rio Verde (which falls into the Mediterranean, three miles west of Marbella), and the fertile plains bordering the Guadaljorce.

This steep and difficult ridge terminates precipitously about Marbella; but another branch of the range, sweeping round the little town of Ojen, turns back for some miles to the north, rises in two lofty peaks above Monda, and then, taking an easterly direction, juts into the Mediterranean at Torre Molinos. The towns of Coin and Alhaurin are situated, like Monda, on rocky projections from the north side of this range, overhanging the vale of Malaga; and the solitary town of Mijas stands upon its southern acclivity, looking towards the sea.

The rugged ramification on which Monda is situated stretches north about two miles from the double-peaked sierra above mentioned; and though completely overlooked by that mountain, yet, in every other direction, it commands all the ground in its immediate neighbourhood, and, without being very elevated, is every where steep, and difficult of access. The summit of the ridge is indented by various rounded eminences, and, consequently, is of very unequal breadth, as well as height. The castle of Monda stands on one of these knolls, but quite on the eastern side of the hill, the breadth of which, in this place, scarcely exceeds 400 yards. At its furthest extremity, however, the ridge, which extends northward, nearly a mile, beyond the town, sends out a spur to the east, following the course of, and falling abruptly to the Rio Seco; and the breadth of the hill may here be said to be increased to nearly two miles.

Between the river Seco and the Rio Grande (a more considerable stream, which runs nearly parallel to, and about seven miles from the Seco), the country, though rudely moulded, is by no means lofty; but round the sources of the latter river, and along its left bank, rise the huge sierras of Junquera, Alozaina, and Casarabonela, closing the view from Monda to the north.

From the description here given it will be apparent, that the communications across so mountainous a country must not only be few, but very bad. Such, indeed, is the asperity of the sierras west of Monda, that no road whatever leads through them; and, to the south, but one tolerable road presents itself to cross the lateral ridge, bordering the Mediterranean, between Marbella and Torre Molinos, viz., that by which we had traversed it.

Even on the other half circle round Monda, where the country is of a more practicable nature, only two roads afford the means of access to that town, viz., one from Guaro, where the different routes from Ronda (by Junquera), El Burgo, Alozaina, and Casarabonela, unite; the other from Coin, upon which place, from an equal necessity, those from Alora, Antequera, and Malaga, are first directed.

Monda thus becomes the point of concentration of all the roads proceeding from the inland towns to Marbella; the pass of Ojen, in its rear, offering the only passage through the mountains to reach that city.

The road from this pass, as has already been described, approaches Monda by the valley watered by the river Seco; which stream, directed in the early part of its course by the Sierra de Monda on its right, flows nearly due north for about a mile and a half beyond where the road to Monda leaves its bank, receiving in its progress several tributary streams that rise in the mountains on its left. On gaining the northern extremity of the ridge of Monda, the rivulet winds round to the eastward, still washing the base of that mountain, but leaving the hilly country on its left bank, along which a plain thenceforth stretches for several miles. The stream again, however, becomes entangled in some broken and intricate country, ere reaching the wide plain of the Guadaljorce, into which river it finally empties itself.

The situation of Monda, with reference to the surrounding country, having now been fully described, it is necessary, ere proceeding to shew that the ground in its neighbourhood answers perfectly the account given of it by Hirtius, to offer some remarks on the causes that may be supposed to have led to a collision between the hostile Roman armies on such a spot, since the present unimportant position of Monda seems to render such an event very improbable.

CÆsar, it would appear, after the fall of Ategua, proceeded to lay siege to Ventisponte and Carruca—two places, whose positions have baffled the researches of the most learned antiquaries to determine—his object, evidently, having been to induce Pompey to come to their relief. His adversary, however, was neither to be forced nor tempted to depart from his politic plan of “drawing the war out into length;” but, retiring into the mountains, compelled CÆsar, whose interest it was, on the other hand, to bring the contest to as speedy an issue as possible, to follow him into a more defensible country.

With this view, leaving the wide plain watered by the Genil and Guadaljorce on the northern side of the mountains, Pompey, we may imagine, retired towards the Mediterranean, and stationed himself at Monda; a post that not only afforded him a formidable defensive position, but that gave him the means of resuming hostilities at pleasure, since it commanded the roads from Cartama to Hispalis (Seville), by way of Ronda, and from Malaca, along the Mediterranean shore, to CarteÍa,[183] where his fleet lay; and, should his adversary not follow him, the situation thus fixed upon was admirably adapted for carrying the war into the country in arms against him, the two opulent cities of Cartama and Malaca (which there is every reason to conclude were attached to the cause of CÆsar), being within a day’s march of Monda.

Here, therefore, Pompey occupied a strategical point of great importance; and CÆsar, fully aware of the advantage its possession gave his opponent, determined to attack him at all risks.

The hostile armies were separated from each other by a plain five miles in extent.[184] That of CÆsar was drawn up in this plain, his cavalry posted on the left; whilst the army of Pompey, whose cavalry was stationed on both wings, occupied a strong position on a range of mountains, protected on one side by the town of Munda, “situated on an eminence;” on the other, by the nature of the ground, “for across this valley” (i.e. that divided the two armies), “ran a rivulet, which rendered the approach to the mountain extremely difficult, because it formed a morass on the right.”

Now although the town of Munda is here described as protecting Pompey’s army on one side, yet from what follows it must be inferred that it was some distance in the rear of his position, since, not only is it stated that “Pompey’s army was at length obliged to give ground and retire towards the town,” but it may be taken for granted that, had either flank rested upon the town, the cavalry would not have been posted on “both wings.”

Moreover, it is stated that “CÆsar made no doubt but that the enemy would descend to the plain and come to battle,” the superiority of cavalry being greatly on Pompey’s side—“but,” Hirtius proceeds to say, “they durst not advance a mile from the town,” and, in spite of the advantageous opportunity offered them, “still kept their post on the mountain in the neighbourhood of the town.”

It may therefore be fairly concluded, that Pompey’s position was on the edge of a range of hills, some little distance in advance of the town of Munda, having a stream running in a deep valley along its front, and a morass on one flank. Now the question is, Can the ground about Monda be made to agree with these various premises? Certainly not, if, as is generally assumed, the battle was fought on the eastern side of the town; for Pompey’s position must, in that case, have extended along the ridge, so as to have the peaked Sierra, above Monda, on its right, and the river Seco on its left, whilst Monda itself would have been an advanced post of the line; and so far from there being a plain “five miles” in extent in front, the country to the east of Monda—though for some way but slightly marked—is, at the distance of two miles, so abruptly broken as to render the drawing up of a Roman army impossible.

In addition to these objections it will be obvious that the half of Pompey’s cavalry on the right, would have been posted on a high mountain, where it could not possibly act, whilst the whole of CÆsar’s (on his left), would have been paralyzed by having to manoeuvre on the acclivity of a steep mountain and against a fortified town, instead of being kept in the valley of the river Seco, ready to fall upon the weak part of the enemy’s line as soon as it should be broken.

What, however, seems to me to be fatal to the supposition that this was the side of the town on which the battle was fought is, that CÆsar’s army would have occupied the road by which alone the small portion of Pompey’s army, that escaped, could have retired upon Cordoba.

Against the supposition that the battle took place on the western side of the ridge on which Monda is situated, the objections, though not so numerous, are equally insurmountable; since there is nothing like a plain whereon CÆsar’s army could have been drawn up; the valley of the river Seco being so circumscribed that, for Pompey’s army to have “advanced a mile from Monda,” it must not only have crossed the stream, but mounted the rough hills that there border its left bank; whereas CÆsar’s army is stated to have been posted in a plain that extended five miles from Monda. The half of Pompey’s cavalry on the left would, in this case also, have been uselessly posted on an eminence. In other respects the supposition is admissible enough, since Monda would have been in the rear of the left of Pompey’s position, but still a support to the line, and the whole front would have been “difficult of approach,” and along the course of a rivulet.

We will now examine the ground to the north of the town, to which it strikes me no insuperable objections can be raised.

We may suppose that Pompey took post with his army fronting Toloz and Guaro, the only direction in which his enemy could be looked for, and where the ground is so little broken, as certainly to allow of its being called a plain, as compared with the rugged country that encompasses it on all sides; and his position would naturally have been taken up along the edge of the last ramification of the ridge of Monda, which extends about two miles from west to east along the right bank of the river Seco.

The town would then have been half a mile or so in rear of the left centre of Pompey’s position; a rivulet, “rendering the approach of the mountain difficult,” would have run along its front. His cavalry would naturally have been disposed on both flanks, where, the hills terminating, it would be most at hand either to act offensively, or for the security of the position; and the cavalry of CÆsar, on the contrary, would all have been posted on his left, where the access to Pompey’s position was easiest, and where, in case of his enemy’s defeat, its presence would have produced the most important results.

We may readily conceive, also, that in times past a morass bordered the Seco where it first enters the plain, since several mountain streams there join it, whose previously rapid currents must have experienced a check on reaching this more level country. The industrious Moslems, probably, by bringing this fertile plain into cultivation, drained the morass so that no traces of it are now perceptible, but twenty years hence there may possibly be another.

Every condition required, therefore, to make the ground agree with the description given of it by Hirtius, is here fulfilled; and, occupying such a position, the army of Pompey seemed likely to obtain the ends which we cannot but suppose its general had in view.

The objections of Mr. Carter to modern Monda being the site of the Roman city are, first, the want of space in its vicinity for two such vast hosts to be drawn up in battle array; and, secondly, the little distance of the existing town from the river Sigila and city of CÁrtama, which, according to an ancient inscription, referring to the repairs of a road from Munda to CÁrtama, he states was twenty miles.

In consequence of these imaginary discrepancies, he suffered himself to be persuaded that the spot where the apparitions are fighting “three leagues to the westward of the modern town,” is the site of the Roman Munda. In which case it must have been situated in a narrow valley, bounded on all sides by lofty mountains, and twenty-eight Roman miles, at least, from the city of CÁrtama!

With respect to his first objections, however, it may be observed, that the want of space can only apply to the army posted on the mountain, for, on the level country between its base and the village of Guaro, an army of any amount might be drawn up. And as regards the mountain, as I have already stated, its north front offers a strong position, nearly two miles in extent, and one in depth. Now, considering the compact order in which Roman armies were formed; the number of lines in which they were in the habit of being drawn up; and making due allowance for exaggeration[185] in the number of the contending hosts; such a space, I should say, was more than sufficient for Pompey’s army.

In reply to the second objection urged by Mr. Carter, I may, in the first place, observe, that the inscription whereon it is grounded—

* * * * *

A MVNDA ET FLVVIO SIGILA
AD CERTIMAM VSQVE XX M.P.P.S. RESTITVIT.[186]—

seems to have no reference to the actual distance between Munda and CÁrtama, since, by attaching any such meaning to it—coupled as Munda is with the river Sigila—the inscription, to one acquainted with the country, becomes quite unintelligible.

Thus, if translated: “From Munda and the river Sigila, he (i. e. the Emperor Hadrian) restored the twenty miles of road to CÁrtama,” any one would naturally conclude that Munda was upon the Sigila, and CÁrtama at a distance of twenty miles from it; whereas, whatever may have been the situation of Munda, CÁrtama certainly stood upon the very bank of the river.

It must, therefore, either have been intended to imply that the Emperor restored twenty miles of a road which from Munda and the sources,[187] or upper part of the course of the Sigila, led to CÁrtama, and various traces of such a Roman road exist to this day on the road to Ronda by Junquera; or, that the road from Munda was conducted along part of the course of the Sigila ere it reached CÁrtama: and such, from the nature of the ground, undoubtedly was the case, since CÁrtama stood at the eastern foot of a steep mountain, the northern extremity of which must (in military parlance) have been turned, to reach it from Monda, and the road, in making this dÉtour, would first reach the river Guadaljorce, or Sigila.

In this case it must be admitted that the twenty miles refer to the actual distance between the two towns, and this tends only more firmly to establish modern Monda on the site of the Roman town, since the distance from thence to CÁrtama, measured with a pair of compasses on a correct map,[188] is fourteen English miles, which are equal to fifteen Roman of seventy-five to a degree, or seventeen of eighty-three and one third to a degree; and considering the hilly nature of the country which the road must unavoidably have traversed, the distance would have been fully increased to twenty miles, either by the ascents and descents if carried in a straight line from place to place, or by describing a very circuitous course if taken along the valley of the Rio Seco.

Carter further remarked upon the foregoing inscription that “it seems to place” Munda to the west of the river Sigila, which ran between that town and CÁrtama; but this, he said, does not agree with the situation of modern Monda, which is on the same side the river as CÁrtama.

I suppose for west he meant to say east, but, in either case, his assumed site for Munda, “three leagues to the west of the present town,” is open to this very same objection, and to the yet graver one, of being—even allowing that he meant English leagues—twenty-three English miles in a direct line from the town of CÁrtama, and in a contracted and secluded valley, to the possession of which, no military importance could possibly have been attached.

On the whole, therefore, I see no reason to doubt what, for so many years was looked upon as certain, viz., that the modern town of Monda is on the site of the ancient city. I must nevertheless own that in following strictly the text of Hirtius, an objection presents itself to this spot with reference to the relative position of Ursao; that is, if Osuna be Ursao; since, in allusion to Pompey’s resolve to receive battle at Munda, he says that Ursao “served as a sure resource behind him.”[189]

This objection holds equally good with the position Carter assigns to Munda; but that there is some error respecting Ursao is evident, for, if Osuna be Ursao, then Hirtius described it most incorrectly by saying it was exceedingly strong by nature, and eight miles distant from any rivulet.[190] And, on the other hand, it is clear that Ursao did not serve as a sure resource to Pompey, since no part of his defeated army found refuge there.

We must read this passage, therefore, as implying rather that Pompey calculated on Orsao as a place of refuge, but that, by the able manoeuvres of his adversary, he was cut off from it. Now a town placed high up in the mountains like Alozaina, or Junquera, and like them distant from any stream but that which rises within their walls, answers the description of Orsao, much better than Osuna;[191] and, supposing one of these, or any other town in the vicinity, similarly situated, to have been Orsao, Pompey might have flattered himself that he could fall back upon it in the event of being defeated at Monda. CÆsar, however, by moving along the valley of the Seco, and, taking post in the plain to the north of Pompey’s position, effectually deprived him of this resource.

The modern town of Monda contains numerous fragments of monuments, inscriptions, &c., which, though none of them actually prove it to be on the site of the ancient place of the same name, satisfactorily shew that it stands near some old Roman town, and that, therefore, to call it new Monda, in contradistinction to Monda la vieja, is absurd.

The road to Coin traverses a succession of tongues, which, protruding from the side of the steep Sierra de Monda on the right, fall gradually towards the Rio Seco, which flows about a mile off on the left. For the first three miles the undulations are very gentle, and the face of the country is covered with corn, but, on arriving at the Peyrela, a rapid stream that rushes down from the mountains in a deep rocky gully, the ground becomes much more broken, and the hills on both sides are thickly wooded. The road, nevertheless, continues very good, and in about two miles more reaches Coin.

The approach to this town is very beautiful. It is situated some way up the northern acclivity of a high wooded hill, and commands a splendid view of the valley of the Guadaljorce.

Coin is supposed to be of Moorish origin, and, from the amenity of its situation, abundance of crystal springs and fruitfulness of its orchards, was, no doubt, a favourite place of retreat with the turbaned conquerors of Spain. Nor are its merits altogether lost upon the present less contemplative race of inhabitants, for they flee to its pure atmosphere whenever any endemic disease frightens them from the close and crowded streets of filthy Malaga.

During the last few years that the divided Moslems yet endeavoured to struggle against the fate that too clearly awaited them, the fields of Coin were doomed to repeated devastations, though the city itself still set the Christian hosts at defiance; but at length the artillery of Ferdinand and Isabella reduced it to submission, A.D. 1485.

The population of Coin is estimated by the Spanish authorities at 9000 souls, but I should say it is considerably less. The houses are good, streets well paved, and the place altogether is clean and wholesome.

The posada, except in outward appearance, is not in keeping with the town. It is a large white-washed building, with great pretensions and small comfort. We left it at daybreak without the least regret, carrying our breakfast with us to enjoy al fresco.

At the foot of the hill two roads to Malaga offer themselves, one by way of CÁrtama (distant ten miles), which turns the Sierra GibalgalÍa to the north, the other by Alhaurin, which crosses the neck of land connecting that mountain with the more lofty sierras to the south. The distance is pretty nearly the same by both, and is reckoned five leagues, but the leguas are any thing but regulares, and may be taken at an average of four miles and a half each. The first named is a carriage road, and the country flat nearly all the way; we therefore chose the latter, as likely to be more picturesque.

In about an hour from Coin, we reached a clear stream, which, confined in a deep gulley, singularly scooped out of the solid rock, winds round at the back of Alhaurin, and tumbles over a precipice on the side of the impending mountain. The crystal clearness of the water and beauty of the spot, tempted us to halt and spread the contents of our alforjas on the green bank of the rivulet, though the white houses of Alhaurin, situated immediately above, peeped out from amidst trelissed vines and perfumed orange groves, seeming to beckon us on. But appearances are proverbially deceitful all over the world, and more especially in Spanish towns, as we had recently experienced at Coin.

Our repast finished, we remounted our horses, and ascended the steep acclivity, on the lap of which the town stands. The environs are beautifully wooded, and the place contains many tasteful houses and gardens, wide, clean, and well-paved streets, abundance of refreshing fountains, and groves of orange and other fruit trees, and, in fact, is a most delightful place of abode. The view from it is yet finer than from Coin, embracing, besides the fine chain of wooded sierras above Alozaina and Casarabonela, the lower portion of the vale of Malaga, and the splendid mountains that stretch into the Mediterranean beyond that city. Nevertheless, in spite of these advantages, the scared MalagueÑos consider Coin a more secure retreat from the dreaded yellow fever than Alhaurin, perhaps because from the former even the view of their abandoned city is intercepted.

Alhaurin contains, probably, 5000 inhabitants. The road from thence to Malaga is carriageable throughout. It winds along the side of the mountain, continuing nearly on a dead level from the town to the summit of the pass that connects the Sierra GibalgalÍa with the mountains of Mijas; thence it descends gradually, by a long and rather confined ravine, into the vale of Malaga.

Arrived in the plain, it leaves the little village of Alhaurinejo about half a mile off on the right, and at thirteen miles from Alhaurin reaches a bridge over the Guadaljorce. This bridge, commenced on a magnificent scale by one of the bishops of Malaga, was to have been built entirely of stone; but, before the work was half completed, either the worthy dignitary of the church came to the last of his days, or to the bottom of his purse, and it is left to be completed, “con el tiempo"—a very celebrated Spanish bridge-maker.

Forty-four solid stone piers remain, however, to bear witness to the good and liberal intentions of the bishop; and the weight of a rotten wooden platform, which has since been laid down, to afford a passage across the stream when swollen by the winter torrents, for at most other times it is fordable.

A road to the Retiro and Churriana continues down the right bank of the river; but that to Malaga crosses the bridge, and on gaining the left bank of the river is joined by the roads from Casarabonda and CÁrtama. From hence to Malaga is about five miles.

On arriving at Malaga we found the dread of cholera had attained such a height during our short absence, that the Xebeque, for Ceuta, had sailed, whilst clean bills of health were yet issued. We also thought it advisable to save our passports from being tainted, and, without further loss of time, departed for Gibraltar by land. Our haste, however, booted us but little; for, amongst the absurdities of quarantine be it recorded, on reaching the British fortress, on the morning of the third day from Malaga, admittance was refused, until we had undergone a three days’ purification at San Roque. Thither we repaired, therefore; and there we remained during the prescribed period, shaking hands daily with our friends from the garrison, until the dreaded virus was supposed to have parted with all its infectious properties. Our decorated attendant had left us on reaching Malaga, promising to take the earliest opportunity of acquainting us with the result of an ordeal, to which the little blind God, in one of his most capricious moods, had been pleased to subject two of his votaries.

The circumstances attending this trial of true love, will be found related in the following chapter, which contains also a sketch of the previous history of the hero of the tale, the knight of San Fernando.