At the bottom of the valley we entered a small village washed by the brook,which had now swelled almost to a stream.A more romantic situation I had never witnessed.It was surrounded and almost overhung by huge mountains,and embowered in trees of various kinds;waters sounded,nightingales sang,and the cuckoo's full note boomed from the distant branches,but the village was miserable.The huts were built of slate-stones,of which the neighbouring hills seemed to be principally composed,and roofed with the same,but not in the neat tidy manner of English houses,for the slates were of all sizes,and seemed to be flung on in confusion.We were spent with heat and thirst,and sitting down on a stone bench I entreated a woman to give us a little water.The woman said she would,but added that she expected to be paid for it.My Greek on hearing this burst into horrid execrations,and speaking Greek,Turkish and Spanish invoked the vengeance of the PANHAGIA on the heartless woman,saying 'If I were to offer a Mahometan gold for a draught of water,he would dash it in my face;and you are a Catholic with the stream running at your door.'Itold him to be silent,and giving the woman two CUARTOS repeated my request;whereupon she took a pitcher,and,going to the stream,filled it with water.It tasted muddy and disagreeable,but it drowned the fever which was devouring me.
We again mounted and proceeded on our way,which for a considerable distance lay along the margin of the stream,which now fell in small cataracts,now brawled over stones,and at other times ran dark and silent through deep pools overhung with tall willows -pools which seemed to abound with the finny tribe,for huge trout frequently sprang from the water catching the brilliant fly which skimmed along its deceitful surface.How delightful!The sun was rolling high in the firmament,casting from its girdle of fire the most glorious rays,so that the atmosphere was flickering with their splendour;but their fierceness was either warded off by the shadow of the trees or rendered innocuous either by the refreshing coolness which rose from the waters or by the gentle breezes which murmured at intervals over the meadows 'fanning the cheek or raising the hair'of the wanderer.The hills gradually receded,till at last we entered a plain where tall grass was undulating,and mighty chestnut-trees in full blossom spread their giant and umbrageous boughs.Beneath many stood cars,the tired oxen prostrate on the ground,the cross-bar of the pole which they support pressing heavily on their heads,whilst their drivers were either employed in cooking or were enjoying a delicious SIESTA in the grass and shade.I went up to one of the largest of these groups and demanded of the individuals whether they were in need of the Testament of Jesus Christ.They stared at one another and then at me,till at last a young man who was dandling a long gun in his hands as he reclined demanded of me what it was,at the same time enquiring whether I was a Catalan,'for you speak hoarse,'said he,'and are tall and fair like that family.'I sat down amongst them and said I was no Catalan,but I came from a spot in the western sea many leagues distant to sell that book at half the price it cost,and that their souls'welfare depended upon their being acquainted with it.I then explained to them the nature of the New Testament and read to them the Parable of the Sower.They stared at each other again,but said that they were poor and could not buy books.I rose,mounted,and was going away,saying to them:
'Peace bide with you.'Whereupon the young man with the gun rose,and saying;'CASPITA!this is odd,'snatched the book from my hand,and gave me the price I had demanded.
Perhaps the whole world might be searched in vain for a spot whose natural charms could rival those of this plain or valley of Bembibre,with its wall of mighty mountains,its spreading chestnut-trees,and its groves of oaks and willows which clothe the banks of its stream,a tributary to the Minho.True it is that when I passed through it the candle of heaven was blazing in full splendour,and everything lighted by its rays looked gay,glad and blessed.Whether it would have filled me with the same feelings of admiration if viewed beneath another sky I will not pretend to determine,but it certainly possessed advantages which at no time could fail to delight;for it exhibited all the peaceful beauties of an English landscape blended with something wild and grand,and I thought within myself that he must be a restless dissatisfied man who born amongst those scenes would wish to quit them.At the time I would have desired no better fate than that of a shepherd on the prairies or a hunter on the hills of Bembibre.
Three hours passed away,and we were in another situation.We had halted and refreshed ourselves and horses at Bembibre,a village of mud and slate,and which possessed little to attract attention.We were now ascending,for the road was over one of the extreme ledges of those frontier hills which I have before so often mentioned;but the aspect of heaven had blackened,clouds were rolling rapidly from the west over the mountains,and a cold wind was moaning dismally.'There is a storm travelling through the air,'said a peasant,whom we overtook mounted on a wretched mule,'and the Asturians had better be on the look-out,for it is speeding in their direction.'He had scarce spoken when a light so vivid and dazzling that it seemed the whole lustre of the fiery element was concentrated therein broke around us,filling the whole atmosphere,and covering rock,tree and mountain with a glare indescribable.
