e effect that my
proceedings were known in Segovia, and that an order was about to be sent
to the _Alcalde_ of Abades to seize all books in my possession.
Whereupon, notwithstanding that it was late in the evening, I decamped
with all my people and upwards of three hundred Testaments, having a few
hours previously received a fresh supply from Madrid. That night we
passed in the fields and next morning proceeded to Labajos, a village on
the high road from Madrid to Valladolid. In this place we offered no
books for sale, but contented ourselves with supplying the neighbouring
villages with the Word of God; we likewise sold it in the highways. We
had not been at Labajos a week, during which time we were remarkably
successful, when the Carlist chieftain Balmaseda at the head of his wild
cavalry made his desperate inroad into the southern part of Old Castile,
dashing down like an avalanche from the pine woods of Soria. I was
present at all the horrors which ensued--the sack of Arrevalo--and the
forcible entry into Martin Munoz and San Cyrian. Amidst these terrible
scenes, we continued our labours undaunted, with the exception of my
servant, who seized with uncontrollable fear ran away to Madrid. I now
lost Lopez for three or four days, and suffered dreadful anxiety on his
account, apprehending that he had been shot by the Carlists. At last I
heard that he was in prison at Villallos, at the distance of three
leagues. The steps which I took to rescue him you will find detailed in
the communication which I deemed it my duty to transmit to Lord Wm.
Hervey at Madrid, a copy of which, together with the letter of Lopez
which informed me of his situation, I transmit herewith. After the
rescue of Lopez, I thought it advisable to return to Madrid, more
especially as my stock of Testaments was exhausted, we having in the
course of little more than a fortnight disposed of nearly nine hundred
Testaments--not in populous and wealthy towns but in highways and
villages, not to the spurious Spaniards of Madrid and the coasts, but to
the sun-blackened peasantry of Old Castile, the genuine descendants of
those terrible men who subjugated Mexico and Peru.

My men returned by Pena Cerrada, whilst I, encumbered by two horses,
crossed the Guadarama. I nearly perished there, having lost my way in
the darkness and tumbled down a precipice. But I am now in Madrid and,
if not well, trusting in the Lord and defying Satan. I shall probably be