has not
been hers. There is still valour in Asturia, generosity in Aragon,
probity in Old Castile, and the peasant women of La Mancha can still
afford to place a silver fork and a showy napkin beside the plate of
their guest. Yes, in spite of Austrian, Bourbon, and Rome, there is
still a wide gulf between Spain and Naples.

Strange as it may sound, Spain is not a fanatic country. I know
something about her, and declare that she is not, nor has ever been:
Spain never changes. It is true that, for nearly two centuries, she was
the she-butcher, La Verduga, of malignant Rome; the chosen instrument for
carrying into effect the atrocious projects of that power; yet fanaticism
was not the spring which impelled her to the work of butchery: another
feeling, in her the predominant one, was worked upon--her fatal pride. It
was by humouring her pride that she was induced to waste her precious
blood and treasure in the Low Country wars, to launch the Armada, and to
many other equally insane actions. Love of Rome had ever slight
influence over her policy; but, flattered by the title of Gonfaloniera of
the Vicar of Jesus, and eager to prove herself not unworthy of the same,
she shut her eyes, and rushed upon her own destruction with the cry of
'Charge, Spain!'

* * * * *

On the afternoon of the 6th of December I set out for Evora, accompanied
by my servant. I had been informed that the tide would serve for the
regular passage-boats, or felouks, as they are called, at about four
o'clock; but on reaching the side of the Tagus opposite to Aldea Gallega,
between which place and Lisbon the boats ply, I found that the tide would
not permit them to start before eight o'clock. Had I waited for them I
should have probably landed at Aldea Gallega about midnight, and I felt
little inclination to make my entree in the Alemtejo at that hour;
therefore, as I saw small boats which can push off at any time lying near
in abundance, I determined upon hiring one of them for the passage,
though the expense would be thus considerably increased. I soon agreed
with a wild-looking lad, who told me that he was in part owner of one of
the boats, to take me over. I was not aware of the danger in crossing
the Tagus at its broadest part, which is opposite Aldea Gallega, at any
time, but especially at close of day in the winter season, or I should
certainly not have ventured. The lad and his comrade, a
miserable-looking object, whose only clothing,