s looked perched up like a lighthouse upon a rock--or a modern Caesar
in a triumphal progress.

We rattled through the streets, and soon found ourselves on the broad
white road that in time, if we persevered, would take us to Lerida the
chivalrous and true. Not the least intention had we of paying that
interesting old town a second visit, but the very fact of knowing that
our faces were set that way, brought our late experiences vividly before
us.

We wondered how it fared with our much-tried landlord; whether the
waiter was yet out of hospital, and he and the Dragon had made up their
differences or agreed to differ. Though the well had been dragged, it
was possible that the skeletons were still there; perhaps had risen to
the surface to refute the old saying that dead men tell no tales. We
thought of our polite captain, and almost wished we might come across
him in Tarragona. He would be sure to know our silent but interesting
old canon of the violet robe, and would open many doors to us. Above all
we wondered how Alphonse fared. By this time his wife would be resting
in her grave; and he, poor lonely wayfarer, would haunt the sad
precincts of the cemetery, and dream of his early days and of walking
through the world with the wife of his youth. No doubt he was right and
would soon follow her to the Land o' the Leal, hailing the hour of his
release.

But all this had nothing to do with our present journey. On each side of
the road we found a rich undulating country. We were in the
neighbourhood of vineyards, and the wine, when pure, is some of the best
that Spain produces. Here and there stood a picturesque farm-house, with
whitewashed walls and green venetians, and heaps of yellow pumpkins,
cantaloupe melons and strings of red peppers dangling from the
balconies: the usual thing in Spain and Italy and the countries of the
South. On a hillside, an occasional village slept in the sunshine; a
quiet little place, apparently without inhabitants or any reason for
existence.

[Illustration: AN OLD NOOK IN TARRAGONA.]

Presently we caught sight of the wonderful aqueduct built by the Romans
so many centuries ago, yet still almost perfect. In the days of the
ancients it brought the water to the city for a distance of twenty
miles. Those were the days when the Tarragonese called themselves lords
of the earth; when Augustus reigned in his palace and the amphitheatre
was the scene of wild sports, and temples existed to the he