distinguishes the Valencian peasant. Out from dark
corners, narrow passages, mud hovels on all sides, came tearing along
little pigs, big pigs, dark, light, fat, thin pigs,--pigs of every
description,--and joined the procession headed by this sombre-looking
herdsman, with his long stick and his blue-and-white striped _manta_
thrown over his shoulder. By the time he had reached the end of the
village he had a large herd following him. Then the whole party slowly
disappeared in the distance, under the groves of cork-trees or up the
mountain paths. The evening performance was more amusing still. Just
about sundown the stately herdsman again appeared with his motley
following. He took no manner of notice of them. He stalked majestically
towards his own particular hovel, and at each corner of a lane or group
of cottages the pigs said "Good night" to each other by a kick-up of
their heels and a whisk of their curly little tails, and scampered off
home by themselves, until, at the end of the village, only one solitary
pig was following his leader--probably they shared one home between
them. It seemed a peaceful, if not an absolutely happy, life!

One would expect a country with such a climate, or rather with so many
climates, as Spain, to make a great feature of agriculture. It can at
once produce wheat of the very finest quality, wine, oil, rice, sugar,
and every kind of fruit and vegetable that is known; and it ought to be
able to support a large agricultural population in comfort, and export
largely. Taking into account, also, the rich mineral wealth, which
should make her independent of imports of this nature, it is sad to see
that in past years, even so late as 1882, wheat and flour, coal and
coke, iron and tools figure amongst her imports--the first two in very
large proportions. Although the vast plains of Estremadura and Castile
produce the finest wheat known to commerce, the quantity, owing to the
want of water, is so small in relation to the acreage under cultivation,
that it does not suffice for home consumption, except in very favourable
years; while the utilisation of the magnificent rivers, which now roll
their waters uselessly to the sea, would make the land what it once was
when the thrifty Moor held it--a thickly populated and flourishing
grain-producing district. In place of the wandering flocks of sheep and
pigs gaining a precarious existence on the herbage left alive by the
blistering sun on an arid soil, th