ailed in with high
wooden palisading. Within this lived a flock of ostriches, belonging to
the Crown. No one seemed to know anything about them, nor how long they
had been there. What puzzled us much was how they were fed, or if they
were left to cater for themselves. One thing I can answer for: they were
very wild, and very ferocious; the moment they saw our horses coming up
the hill they would run from all parts of the enclosure trying their
best to get at us, striking with their feet and wings, and uttering
gruesome shrieks. It was one of our amusements to race them, keeping
outside their high fence while they strode over the ground, their necks
stretched out, and their absurd wings flapping after the manner of a
farmyard gander; but, with the best efforts, the horses were never able
to keep up the pace for long; the birds invariably won, and we left them
screeching and using language that did not appear to be parliamentary,
when they found that the fence was the only thing that did not give in,
as they craned their necks and stamped in their baffled rage. The
horses, at first rather afraid of the birds, soon learned to enjoy the
fun, and raced them for all they were worth. I do not know if this
strange colony is still settled there.

A curious feature of Spanish country life to us are the goatherds. Where
the large flocks of goats about Madrid pasture, I know not; but I have
often seen them coming home in the evening to be milked, or starting out
in the morning. The goatherd, clad in his _manta_, and carrying a long
wand of office over his shoulder, and I think also a horn, stalks
majestically along with all the dignity of a royal marshal of
processions, and the goats follow him, with a good deal of lagging
behind for play, or nibbling, if they should chance to see anything
green. Still, they scamper after their _generalissimo_ in the end, and
meanwhile he is much too dignified to look back. Taking advantage of
this, I have seen women come out of their cottages on the roadside and
milk a goat or two as it passed; and from the way the animal made a full
stop, and lent itself to the fraud--if such it were--it was evidently a
daily occurrence.

In times not long past, if indeed they do not still exist, the
dust-heaps outside Madrid were the homes of packs of lean, hungry dogs,
great brindled creatures of the breed to be seen in Velasquez pictures;
these animals prowled about the streets of Madrid in the early morning,