ght back vividly days when we sojourned in fair
Provence, and from the cottage doors, mingling with the pure air of
heaven wafted across the Mediterranean, there came the everlasting
perfume of garlic. Hotels, houses, cottages, all seemed full of the
terrible odour. The worthy people of Provence, with their dark skins and
slow movements, were indefatigable in trying to win us over to their
side. It was almost impossible to enter a public conveyance without
putting one's head out of window: and stronger than all the impressions
made upon us by the charms of Provence, its ripening vineyards, its
wines, all the beauties of sea and sky, mountain and valley, were our
garlic reminiscences. In Catalonia we had it to a less extent, but it
was an evil to be avoided. So our landlord went back depressed to his
kitchen to conclude the packing of the hamper.

Francisco appeared in his Sunday's best long before the omnibus. At
least half a dozen times he came up to our rooms to remind us that it
would only rush round at the last moment and would not wait. Going off
for a month's holiday could not have excited him more. With an agony of
apprehension he saw us walk to the end of the road and look down upon
the blue sea that stretched around in all its beauty and repose. Already
there were white-winged feluccas gliding upon its surface, their lateen
sails spread out, enjoying the cool of the morning.

The cliff was almost perpendicular. To our left a sentry paced to and
fro, to overlook the Presidio, a large convict establishment below us on
a level with the sea. If any convict had attempted to escape--a very
improbable event--he would quickly have been marked by the lynx-eyed
sentry, who was relieved every two hours.

Side by side with the Presidio were the remains of the old Roman
amphitheatre, dating back to the days of the city walls, the house of
Pontius Pilate, and all the vestiges of the past. Close to us rose the
old Roman Tower, from which very possibly Augustus had looked many a
time upon the undulating hills and far-stretching sea, feeling himself
monarch of all he surveyed.

But long years before, the Phoenicians--that enterprising people of
Tyre and Sidon, of whom so little is known, yet who seem to have
possessed the earth--had made a maritime station of Tarragona. What it
actually was in those days can never be told; no archives contain their
record; but in beauty and favour of situation the centuries have brought
no