fair
lady, which he headed, "To Eve in Paradise"--a questionable compliment.
Tortosa, with its narrow streets and gloomy palaces, its strong walls,
ancient castle and bridge of boats, all visible from the train, had
passed away. One lovely view gave place to another.

"It is indeed a rich country through which we are travelling," said the
priest, "the very Garden of Spain, which appears to me to find its
culminating point round about Valencia. Our whole progress is marked by
historical footsteps. I never visit Tortosa without thinking of St.
Paul, and a little of his amazing energy seems to fall upon me. He
becomes a real presence to me. An influence he must and will be in all
places and in all ages. Then comes Vinaroz with its crumbling walls--one
of the loveliest spots in the whole province. I always think its people
are like mermen, neither one thing nor the other. They fish the sea and
plough the land by turns. Both occupations yield them good fruit, so
perhaps they are wise. The fish are abundant, the lampreys excellent. It
was here the Duc de Vendome died from a surfeit of fish, of which he was
passionately fond. But for this, Philip V. would probably never have
entered upon his long and eventful reign. Look at those white-winged
boats gliding upon the blue waters! Where is there another sea like the
Mediterranean? It is the very cradle of history and romance; scene of
half the mighty events of the world. Were I an idle man I would spend my
life upon its surface."

"What is that distant object?" indicating an enormous perpendicular rock
some five miles away, that stood a picturesque, castle-crowned islet,
round which the sea was breaking in faint white lines.

"We call it Gibraltar of the West," replied the priest. "An interesting
place to visit, and larger than you would imagine, with its 3000
inhabitants. They are curious people: in some things almost a race
apart. It is neither an island nor yet part of the mainland. You cannot
gain entrance by water, though surrounded by the sea. The only passage
to it is a narrow strip of sand reaching to the shore. It was here that
Pope Benedict XIII. took refuge after the Council of Constance had
pronounced against him. And here comes Benicarlo with its old walls," he
continued, as the train drew up at the small station. "The ancient town
is worth a visit. Its people, poor and wretched, might be flourishing
and well-to-do, for the neighbourhood is wonderfully productive.