But there was no more interesting monument than the aqueduct on which we
stood. Its rich tone contrasted wonderfully with the subdued green of
the ravine, the deep shades of the heather, so full of charm and repose
to the eye tired with wandering over the glaring country and straining
after distant outlines. We stayed long, enjoying our breezy elevation;
going back in imagination to the early centuries of mighty deeds--those
Romans who were in truth masters of the world. At last, feeling that our
driver's patience was probably exhausted, and treading carefully over
the granite passage of the viaduct, we made our way to the prosy level
of mankind.

The driver had drawn under the shade of some trees, and was holding a
levee. Half a dozen other drivers were grouped round him, and the
bullock-carts with their patient animals were waiting their pleasure,
one behind another. They were all laying down the law with any amount of
gesture and loud tones; all more or less angry, each convinced that he
was in the right.

Our coachman, as owner of a superior conveyance and a man of substance,
was evidently acting as a sort of judge or umpire, and just as we came
up was delivering his weighty opinion. But it appeared to be the case of
the old fable again, and in trying to propitiate all he pleased none. A
pitched battle seemed averted by our arrival, which put an end to the
discussion. As strangers and foreigners were objects of interest, we had
to run the gauntlet of their scrutiny. But they were civil; and
curiosity satisfied, mounted their heavy waggons and set off down the
road towards Reus at break-neck speed, raising more dust and noise than
a hundred pieces of artillery.

Fortunately we were going the other way. As the driver mounted his box
he shrugged his shoulders.

"It is always the same," he observed. "These men of Reus are the most
revolutionary, most disaffected in all Catalonia. They always have a
grievance. Whatever is, is wrong. If it isn't political, it's social. If
it's not taxes, it's the price of wheat. Their life is one perpetual
contention, and every now and then they break out into open revolt. Only
the other day an old man of Kens, a distant connection, on his death-bed
declared to me that he had made all his miseries, and if he had his time
to come over again, would make the best of the world and look on the
bright side of things. Just what every one ought to do. Enjoy the
sunshine, and let the shadows l