ous resort of travellers, being one
of the largest, finest, and most richly endowed of all the Spanish
churches. This lofty structure, like that at Antwerp, is situated behind
a cluster of inferior buildings, so as greatly to detract from its
external effect, though from the opposite side of the river Arlanzon a
favorable view is obtained of its open-work spires and its tall
corrugated roof. The columns and high arches of the interior are a maze
of architectural beauty in pure Gothic. In all these Spanish churches
the choir completely blocks up the centre of the interior, so that no
comprehensive view can be had. Above the space between the altar and the
choir rises a cupola, which, in elaborate ornamentation of bas-reliefs,
statues, small columns, arches, and sculptured figures, exceeds anything
of the sort in this country so famous for its cathedrals. The hundred
and more carved seats of the choir are in choice walnut, and form a
great curiosity as an example of artistic wood-carving, presenting human
figures, vines, fantastic animals, and foliage. The several chapels are
as large as ordinary churches, while in the centre of each lies buried a
bishop or a prince. The great number of statues and paintings scattered
through the interior of the cathedral are almost as confusing as the
pinnacled and statue-covered roof of the Milan cathedral, whose beauty
disappears amid accumulation. In a side apartment the attendant will
show us many curious relics, among them the well-known effigy of Christ
on the Cross, which devout believers say was carved by Nicodemus just
after he had buried the Saviour.

Our course is still northward. From Burgos to San Sebastian by rail is a
hundred and fifty miles. As we leave the ancient town, memory is busy
for a moment recalling its legends and history. We remember that
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 recall the Cid and his gallant
war-horse, Baveica, we think of the richly endowed cathedral, and the
old monastery, where rest Juan II. and Isabella of Portugal in their
elaborately carved alabaster tomb. But gradually these memories fade
away as we awaken to new and present surroundings while rushing along at
railway speed. Sparkling watercourses, with here and there a fall, give