woollen balls; the _madronos_, or silk tufts
and balls, used as decorations for the Andalusian or the gypsy hats, not
to mention the beautifully soft and pure silks of Barcelona, or the silk
laces made in such perfection in many parts of the country,--all these
are objects of merchandise only needing to be known, to occasion a large
demand, especially in these days when the French invention of weighted
dyes floods the English market with something that has the outward
appearance of silk, but which does not even wait for wear to disclose
its real nature, but rots into holes on the drapers' shelves, and
would-be smart young women of slender purses walk about in what has been
well called "tin attire," in the manufacture of which the silk-worm has
had only the slenderest interest.

The blankets and rugs of Palencia have been known to some few English
people for many years, owing to their extreme lightness, great warmth,
and literally unending wear; but it is only within the last very few
years that they can be said to have had any market at all in England,
and now they are called "Pyrenean" rather than Spanish goods. One of the
suggestions of the little commercial circular already referred to is
that Spaniards should open depots or special agencies all over England
for the sale of their woollen goods, after the manner of the Jaeger
Company.

The flocks of merino sheep to be seen on the wooded slopes of the
Pyrenees, and all over Estremadura, following their shepherd after the
manner with which Old Testament history makes us familiar, are said to
be direct descendants of the old Arabian flocks, and certainly the
appearance of one of these impassive-looking shepherds leading his flock
to "green pastures, and beside the still waters," takes one back in the
world's history in a way that few other things do. The flock know the
voice of their shepherd, and follow him unquestioningly wheresoever he
goes; there is no driving, no hurrying; and the same may be said of the
pigs, which form such an important item in the social economy of a
Spanish peasant's home.

Staying once at Castellon de la Plana, in Valencia, my delight was to
watch the pig-herd and his troop. Early in the morning, at a fixed hour,
he issued from his house in one of the small alleys, staff in hand, and
with a curious kind of horn or whistle. This he blew as he walked along,
from time to time, without turning his head, in that strange trance of
passivity which