istian surface in spite of centuries of true belief.

III

MONDONEDO

A Village grown to be a city, and yet a village. A city without history
or tradition, and a cathedral that has been spoilt by the hand of time,
and above all by the hands of luckless artists called upon to rebuild
deteriorated parts.

To the north of Lugo, at a respectable distance from the railway which
runs from the latter to Corunna, and reached either by means of a stage
or on horseback, Mondonedo passes a sleeping existence in a picturesque
vale surrounded by the greenest of hills. Rarely bothered by the tourist
who prefers the train to the stage, it procures for the art lover many
moments of delight--that is, if he will but take the trouble to visit
the cathedral, the two towers of which loom up in the vale, and though
rather too stumpy to be able to lend elegance to the ensemble, add a
poetic charm to the valley and to the village itself.

How on earth did it ever occur to any one to raise the church at
Mondonedo to a bishopric? Surely the sees in Galicia were badly
shuffled; and yet, where can a quieter spot be found in this wide world
of ours for the contemplation of a cathedral--and a Romanesque one, to
boot!

It is to the Norman vikings that is due the establishment of a see in
this lonely valley. Until the sixth century it had been situated in
Mindunietum of the Romans, when it was removed to Ribadeo, remaining
there until late in the twelfth century. Both these towns were seaports,
and both suffered from the cruel incursions and piratical expeditions of
the vikings, and so after the total pillage of the church in Ribadeo,
the see was removed inland out of harm's way, to a village known by the
name of Villamayor or Mondonedo. There it has remained till the present
day, ignored by the tourist who "has no time," and who follows the
beaten track established by Messrs. Cook and Company, in London.

[Illustration: GENERAL VIEW OF MONDONEDO]

As will have been seen, Mondonedo is a city without history, and without
a past; doubtless it will for ever remain a village without a future.
Its doings, its _raison d'etre_, are summed up in the cathedral that
stands in its centre, just as in Santiago, though from different
motives.

It is, perhaps, the most picturesque spot in Galicia, a gently sloping
landscape buried in a violet haze, reminding one of Swiss valleys in the
quiet Jura. Besides, the streets are silent and often deserted