Meanwhile the square is constantly filling, so that it becomes very difficult to pass. Here are criers of journals stunning the pas sengers with their noise, people reading the gazette for a quarto (a farthing), walloon and swiss guards offering goods for sale, hackneycoaches plying for fares, old clothesmen, coblers, sharpers, sellers of images and cigars, and hucksters of all kinds tormenting the passen gers; there a numerons circle crowd round an ingenious memorialista or notary, a very profitable occupation and abounding in every street, for nothing is to be obtained by verbal applications even to a passport, for which a memorialito must pass through an infinity of offices; and there a loto with a dial to be pulled, next him a juggler with dancing monkeys, and farther on goods selling by auction; women ogling the passengers also mingle in the crowd, while capuchins with long beards parade with gravity and solemnity. Here you are attacked by a couple of ballad singers, and there annoyed by an importunate beggar; to all which is added the noise of carriages and calesas, and of the neighbouring fountain re-echoing with the loud hallooing voices of the water-carriers.

This place is far more noisy still on Sundays and holidays, when crowds of people are flocking to the neighbouring churches. It is the fashion to pass these days in the square, and many a fair who has missed her lover at church is sure to find him here. The groups then crowd upon each other to the very gates of the church, and every one appears in his best apparel.

But it strikes one, and the crowd disappears; the porters range themselves near the houses to sleep the siesta or eat their dinner; all the shops are shut, at the corners of the streets the hucksters cover their stalls and stretch themselves beside them on the pavement, the place is cleared, the most noisy streets are quite deserted and dead, and a solitary passenger is rarely seen. But no sooner do the bells ring for vespers, than all is life again, and at four o'clock the place is crowded anew.

At this time ladies of easy access issue forth from their retreats, spreading on all sides, and no modest woman dares be seen abroad without her cortejo or her duenna and frequently both. The former is the same as a cicisbeo, of whom I shall speak hereafter. latter was formerly a severe governess or guardian of the wife paid The by the husband, and frequently chosen from among his relations, but now a mere lady's maid. The women I was speaking of however are free from this slavery. Their light and bold walk, their short and fluttering petticoats, of which the long and transparent fringe exposes to view at every step a delicate and beautiful leg, those enticing veils which rather display than conceal their charms, their large nosegays, and the coquettish play of their fans, characterize these dangerous syrens. A word or a look, however cursory, suffice to produce an assignation, which is afterwards settled more at leisure in some neighbouring street.

The first rate demireps, who still keep up generally take with them a little girl eight or ten years old, who external appearances, serves as their duenna, and, proud of their charms, they wait till due homage is paid them. Those of the second class, who go alone,

use

use less reserve; they smile with grace, and employ the 'most seducing allurements they possess.

At this time come the venders of cool water (aguadores) crying "Agua fresca! agua fresquita! quien beve? quien quiere? Aora viene de la fuente!" Cool water, nice cool water! Who drinks? who wants any water, just fresh from the fountain?" These men carry on their shoulders a large stone pitcher fastened on with leather thongs, and keep goblets in tin vessels to drink out of: it is sold at a farthing a glass. Also orange-girls (naranjeras) crying "Naranjas, naranjas! dos por tres quartos! por tres quartos dos!" "Oranges, oranges! two for three farthings, for three farthings two!" The flower-girls (roseras) "Tome vm! tome vm! seño. rito, señorita! tres por un quarto! que hermosas! que ricas! el "Take some, take manojo un quarto! que hermosas yo las tengo." some, dear sir! dear madam! three for a farthing! how beautiful! how rich! a farthing a handful! how beautiful they are!" The chaise-drivers (caleseros) "Un calesin, señor? quantos assientos ? tome vm, que calesin y que caballo yo tengo! vamos señor! una. buelta al canal o adonde vi quiera." "A chaise, sir! how many seats? come, sir! what a chaise, and what a horse are mine! come, sir, a turn to the canal, or wherever you please." The newsvenders "Gazeta nova, gazeta nova! No tengo mas que media dozena. Quien quiere la ultima gazeta? Tome vin la ultima que tengo." "The new gazette, the new gazette! I have only half a dozen left. Who will have the last gazette? Take it, sir, the last I have." And lastly the beggars "Señor, una limosina! Maria por santissima! una limosina a este pobrecito, que no puede ganar! una limosina por los dolores de Maria santissima!" "Sir, your charity, for the love of the holy virgin! your charity to a poor man that cannot work! your charity, by the pains of the holy virgin !" Then by degrees the various equipages go to the theatres or the Prado, and on all sides company in chariots, on mules, and on borricos. At length it is twilight, the bells ring for the angelus, the lamps are lighted before the madonas and in the houses, while the wine-sellers and lemonade-sellers light up their shops, and everywhere are seen little tables with french rolls and paper "Que ricos! que tiernecitos! que blanditos !" "How rich! how fresh! how soft!" The noise of the passengers, the rumbling of carriages increases every moment, and the whole square is full of people. Here guitars and voleros are heard, there a ballad-singer singing the last new ballad and stories of men hanged, then a vigorous copper-coloured missionary preaching to a penitent populace, while his audience are appointing assignations.'

lanterns.

The 31st letter presents us with a very long and minute description of the character and the virtues of the Spanish Ladies. From this account, they appear to be endued with the most noble passions and affections: but, alas! extremes are dangerous; and the same temperament which inspires the fervour of

devotion,

devotion, and the most ardent attachment, prepares the mind for passions of an opposite nature, and unites the votary of religion with the votary of the world. An incident, which illustrates this observation, occurred during the author's residence at Madrid, and terminated in a tragic manner. It is recorded as a confirmation of the fatal consequences of the illassorted marriages so common in Spain, and is as follows:

• Doña Antonia, a charming woman about 29 years most, was married to a merchant, a man of a mild temper, but capriof age at cious and of a weak constitution. This lady had always lived a very retired life, till a young man from Valencia, who came to study the law at Madrid, was recommended to her husband, and thus had access to her. Doña Antonia was pleased with his cured him her favour, and all the privileges attached to it. The person, which prohusband however perceived their intimacy, and by means of the offers and honourable means he employed succeeded in dismissing the young man, without affording Doña Antonia an opportunity of opposing the measure.

The letters however of Doña Antonia pursued her lover wherever he went, and love and revenge rendered them so eloquent, that the young man some months after broke his word and returned secretly to Madrid. He then renewed his interviews with her at a private house, and his passion daily increased. At length the time arrived, that Antonia ventured to communicate to him a plan, she had long since formed, of assassinating her husband, and offered him on that condition her hand and her fortune. horror at the proposal, begged her to abandon the idea, showing her Don Juan shuddered with the dreadful consequences of so black an action, which he absolutely refused to perpetrate. Hereupon at first she treated him with the profoundest contempt, and then that could be suggested by despair. She employed alternately megave herself up to all the extremes naces, prayers, and imprecations, then recurred to all the artifices that revenge or love could contrive, till at length Don Juan consented, and the death of the husband was resolved. They were engaged in contriving the means of effecting this, when the following circumstance occurred to hasten its execution.

• Doña Antonia had presented one of her watches to Don Juan, but her husband missing it, she accused the cook of having stolen it, and under that pretext discharged her. The husband however meeting the woman upbraided her with her conduct, but she justified herself by revealing to him the whole secret. He therefore brought her home, concealed her in an alcove, called his wife, and made the pretended theft the topic of conversation. The remainder of this interview may easily be imagined. And now all was lost, and nothing but the death of her husband could save her. The grief of the hushand for the infidelity of his wife brought on a fever, and he was obliged to confine himself to his bed. It was therefore determined to send all the servants out on the following Sunday, and leave the patient alone. The opening the door of the balcony was the signal

agreed

But the unfor

agreed on, and thus the plot was executed. The lover entered the apartment with a poniard in his hand, fell upon the sick man, gave him several stabs in the belly, and made his escape. tunate husband calling for help, a young girl who was with her aunt Doña Antonia heard him. The noise of Don Juan in escaping also attracted her attention, as she ran to the apartment of her uncle, whom she found weltering in his blood, and immediately called her aunt. It may easily be conceived that the latter did not fail to cry out for help too, and to feign the deepest despair. Meanwhile the young man had gained the gate of Toledo, and was going to quit Madrid, when he recollected he had no money: he therefore turned back, and went to his apartment to get some, but strongly impressed with the embarrassment in which he imagined the object of his love to be, he went to a woman of his acquaintance, and there waited to receive some tidings of her.

Two days passed on, the report of this assassination spread over Madrid, and in the interval the person who was in the secret of their connection revealed it to her confessor, who advised her to go and inform the alcalde-mayor. The suspicion was confirmed by an intercepted letter, and the culprits were arrested. Don Juan immediately confessed, and Doña Antonia, who had at first denied her crime, was convicted. The prosecution continued four months, after which they were both condemned and sentenced to suffer death. All the interest and the most considerable offers were made in vain. At first Doña Antonia flew in a rage, when she was informed that her lover had confessed, and loaded him with reproaches and with abuse; but in her last moments her love seemed to be renewed with increased ardour, and when her sentence was read to her she asked, "Y Don Juan tendra la misma suerte ?"-" And will Don John suffer the same fate ?"-which being answered in the affirmative," she replied, "Pues señores la siento mucho mas que la mia"-" I am much more grieved, gentlemen, for him than for myself,"--and immediately fainted.

The day of execution at length arrived, for which a scaffold had been erected in the Plaza-mayor. The two culprits, having received the sacrament in the chapel of the Dominicans, were conducted to execution by the confraternity del Refugio. They were both dressed in black, and Doña Antonia wept. She would have embraced her lover for the last time, but he turned away his head, till the confessor at length reconciled them. She had begged as a favour to be strangled first, but the sentence was that both should be executed at the same moment. They were each on a separate seat. Don Juan fainted at the moment when the cord was put round him, but Doña Antonia sat with great decency, casting her eyes upon her lover. They were dispatched in about a minute."

Some of the author's general observations on the state of literature in Spain are worth transcribing :

'Such is the force of events, and such the irresistible activity of the human mind, that, in spite of prejudice and of all the fetters it

endures,

endures, some rays of light have gone forth even in Spain. The government have perceived, that it is their interest to command a more informed people, have begun to sap the foundation of ecclesiastical power, and favour the cultivation of the mind. It may be wished perhaps, that they pursued a firmer system, a better plan, and were more regular in their progress, but they have begun, and that is a great point gained. Are not the remains of barbarism disappearing? Does not the contrast of rational ideas and old institutions become more apparent? Does not the mass of useful knowledge increase daily? Yes, most certainly. The spanish nation have begun to unfold their powers in silence, and will one day excite the attention and the astonishment of Europe.

The beneficent influence of increasing liberty of thought is already felt by the sciences themselves. Literature and the booktrade are as it were two sisters, that mutually aid and encourage each other; but the book trade is the younger sister, and literature must grow up and unfold first. The book-trade is formed progressively after her, and serves as a standard to judge of her. If political or religious slavery therefore prevents the growth of literature, the booktrade will in like manner be stinted and imperfect.

This is what has happened in Spain. After the acme of her glory was past, Spain sank into a universal decay, and at the begin-. ning of the present century had still to begin her literary career. If she advances but by slow degrees, if she sometimes seems retrograde, the cause must be attributed to the clergy, who would for ever condemn the whole nation to ignorance in order to be its masters, and who choose to consider human reason itself as a monster and a crime in order to 'subdue it. In a country where the slightest expression may expose a man to danger, where the power of censure is in the hands of monks, we must not expect to see literature flourish.

Another inconvenience arises from the imperfection of the booktrade. This defect, which springs from the abandonment of literature, becomes a secondary cause of its decay. The few books that have appeared are printed at the king's expence, or that of the authors themselves, and these speculations have always been attended with loss.

• But the book-trade has improved since the influence of the clergy has diminished, the mass of general knowledge increased, and literature gained consistency and strength. More is written, because more is permitted to be published, and more is printed, be cause there are more readers. It is true the spanish booksellers cannot be compared to those of Germany, but there are booksellers in all the great first and second rate cities, and that is sufficient to set the machine in motion. These libreros or booksellers are not indeed both publishers and general retailers of all other publications, but a mixture of the two, that is, besides the works they publish themselves, they sell a few, which those in the same line intrust to them on commission, without carrying on a regular correspondence or keeping a complete assortment. They have therefore no regular catalogues of their whole assortments, and rarely know any thing of other books than

those