t, as would belong to
a rotatory, locomotive pendulum, should the progress of mechanics ever
attain to so complicated a discovery. Indeed, the machine, in general,
appeared desirous of avoiding the monotony attendant on a
straight-forward movement; the body of the monster, from the groans,
sighs, screams, and other various sounds which accompanied its heaving,
pitching, and rolling exertions, appearing to belong to some unwieldy
and agonised mammoth and to move by its own laborious efforts, instead
of being indebted for its progress to the half-dozen quadrupeds hooked
to its front projections.

The track along which this interesting production of mechanical art now
conveyed us, bore much resemblance to a river, in the accidents of its
course. Thus we were reminded at frequent intervals, by the suddenly
increased speed of our progress, that we were descending a rapid: at
other times the motion was so vertical, as to announce the passage down
a cataract. These incidents were not objectionable to me, as they
interrupted the monotony of the walking pace, to which we were
condemned; although one or two passengers of rather burly proportions,
seemed not much to enjoy their repetition. However this might be,
assuredly we were none of us sorry to find ourselves at eight o'clock
that evening safely housed at Toledo.

LETTER VIII.

PICTURESQUE POSITION OF TOLEDO. FLORINDA.

Toledo.

Every traveller--I don't mean every one who habitually assists in
wearing out roads, whether of stone or iron--nor who travels for
business, nor who seeks to escape from himself--meaning from ennui, (a
vain attempt, by the way, if Horace is to be depended on; since, even
should he travel on horseback, the most exhilarating sort of locomotion,
ennui will contrive to mount and ride pillion)--but every one who
deserves the name of traveller, who travels for travelling sake, for the
pleasure of travelling, knows the intensity of the feeling which impels
his right hand, as he proceeds to open the window-shutter of his
bed-room, on the morning subsequent to his nocturnal arrival in a new
town.

The windows of the Posada del Miradero at Toledo are so placed as by no
means to diminish the interest of this operation. The shutter being
opened, I found myself looking from a perpendicular elevation of
several hundred feet, on one of the prettiest views you can imagine. The
town was at my back, and the road by which we had arrived, was cut in
the