ter five hundred years of faithful
service was shorn of its glory.

Yet its outlines are as fine and as striking as ever, and the columns,
stonework and tracery that remain, still bear witness to its ancient
splendour. It is, however, with the greatest difficulty that admission
is obtained, a senseless piece of tyranny. The interior is to the last
degree interesting to the lover of ancient architecture, and there are
no military or other secrets to be carried away. But say what one will,
courtesy is not one of the virtues of the Spanish, and in this matter
the Catalonians perhaps take the lead. They are abrupt and uncivil, and
unwilling to stir hand or foot to oblige you unless something is to be
gained by it.

Sallying forth this morning, we had these magnificent outlines in full
view. We have said that the tenebrous darkness of last night had not
prepared us for the charms of to-day. Lerida proved one of the most
interesting of Spanish towns. This morning it was full of life and
movement. The market-place was crowded with buyers and sellers; men and
women still wearing a certain amount of picturesque costume. The air
seemed full of sound. Fruit and flower-stalls were splendid, and large
quantities of each could be bought for a very small sum.

As we had discovered last night, the town consisted of one long street
running parallel with the river. It was narrow and straggling, full of
lights and shadows. Now and then you came upon short arcades that were
singularly picturesque, whilst every here and there a fine old gateway
led to the river-side. These gateways form part of the fortifications of
the town, for Lerida is strongly protected.

Making way through this long street, we presently came upon a
wine-pressing machine in the very middle of the road, worked by strong,
stalwart men; a very southern and picturesque scene. We watched them
pile up the grapes, that had already once been pressed, until the
machine was full. Then adjusting it by means of long poles, they turned
the press and the rich red grape-juice poured itself into a vat placed
for the purpose. The air was full of the scent of muscatel. The men
looked as though the red juice ran in their veins and inspired them with
energy.

[Illustration: LERIDA MULES.]

As the vat filled, it was emptied with a great ladle into a larger
barrel that stood inside the archway of the adjoining house. The sight
was novel, and the men seemed amused at our interest. The