ings which in
their prime must have been intolerable. The sight of old sleepy cities,
ancient churches, cathedrals, and deserted convents, must often
compensate for an indifferent supper and a hard bed.

Since the days of Ferdinand and Isabella, Spain has emulated China in
her stand-still policy. Perhaps these facts are very generally realized,
and hence so few people, comparatively, visit the country, but it is a
serious mistake for those who can afford the time and money not to do
so. There is quite enough legitimate attraction to repay any intelligent
person for all the annoyances and trouble which are necessarily
encountered. It was past midnight when we arrived at the railroad
station at Burgos, where, having telegraphed from Madrid, a very dirty
omnibus was in waiting to take us to the hotel. How that vehicle did
smell of garlic, stale tobacco, and accumulated filth, to which the odor
of an ill-trimmed kerosene lamp added its pungent flavor. But we were
soon set down before the hotel, where there was not a light to be seen,
every one, servants and all, being sound asleep. An entrance being
finally achieved, the baggage was passed in, and rooms assigned to us.
As hunger is the best sauce for supper, so fatigue makes even
indifferent lodgings acceptable; and we were soon half-dreaming of the
familiar legends and history of Burgos,--how centuries ago a knight of
Castile, Diego Porcelos, had a lovely daughter, named Sulla Bella, whom
he gave as a bride to a German cavalier, and together they founded this
place and fortified it. They called it Burg, a fortified place, hence
Burgos. We thought of the Cid and his gallant war-horse, Baveica; of
Edward I., of the richly endowed cathedral, and the old monastery where
rest Juan II. and Isabella of Portugal, in their alabaster tomb. But
gradually these visions faded, growing less and less distinct, until
entire forgetfulness settled over our roving thoughts.

The first impression of Burgos upon the stranger is that of quaintness.
It is a damp, cold, dead-and-alive place, with but three monuments
really worthy of note; namely, the unrivaled cathedral, its Cartujan
monastery, and its convent of Huelgas; and yet there is a tinge of the
Gotho-Castilian period about its musty old streets and archways scarcely
equaled elsewhere in Spain, and which one would not like to have missed.
The most amusing experience possible, on arriving in such a place,
is to start off in the early morn