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Rh good spirits. It was a bright clear night, with a fresh and buoyant wind. Alas! for the safety of two respectable linen-drapers, and the partner of a great tea house, inside—for Lorraine drove the first forty miles. "What a pity he should be a gentleman—such a waste!" observed the coachman, when he resigned the reins. Spain was the country he had decided upon visiting—Spain, as a poet regularly begins,

It is curious how much of its romantic character a country owes to strangers; perhaps because they know least about it. Edward's motive for visiting it was, simply, that he had never been there before. Leaving vines, olives, the white walls of Cadiz, and the dark eyes of its ladies, to be recorded in his diary, if he kept one, he travelled perfectly alone—sometimes on foot, sometimes on horseback—through a considerable part of the country bordering on the sea-coast; when, finding the residence of a Spanish nobleman, to whom he had letters of introduction, marked on his route, he paused at a little village to make inquiry of his way.

The village was pretty enough for a scene in