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[233] six persons like myself, who travelled with them for a protection the government does not pretend to give. The only one that interested me was Count Polentinos, whom I had known at the Archbishop's, a young man of some knowledge in physical science, that is, for a Spanish nobleman. He is of Madrid, and had been at Granada for a lawsuit, which has been pending in the Spanish courts two hundred and eleven years, and which, though he confidently believes he has gained and terminated it, is yet not so completely closed that his adversary cannot disturb him with one more appeal. This is a specimen of Spanish justice, and the Count related to me several similar instances of promptitude in its administration, not less characteristic. We entered at once into the mountains that surround Granada on this side as on all others, and came on that night to Alhama to sleep. The next day we continued several leagues farther in the same kind of country, sometimes even in regions refreshed by the eternal snows that rested on the chain above us, and often through a very rude, picturesque scenery, marked by the remains of Moorish castles and fortifications. As we approached Velez Malaga, however, all this gradually changed. The heats came upon us most oppressively in the valleys; the peasants were all out, drying and packing their Muscadel raisins for our market and the English; the road was lined with aloes, which I now for the first time saw, shooting up their immense blossoms to the height of thirty feet, and looking at a distance like young pines. The palm-trees, dates, and pomegranates grew more frequent; and at last we came to what I had so often heard talked of, and what proved to me completely that I was now in a tropical climate, I mean a regular plantation of the sugar-cane. . . . .

[On the 27th], at nine o'clock, I gladly entered the busy little city of Malaga. . . . The inhabitants—I mean those I knew in a visit of only three days—I found hospitable as the spirit of commerce always makes a people, and frank, open, and giddy, as everybody knows the Andalusians are. Count Cabarrus and his family, and the house of Mr. Rouse would have done anything for me, and, in fact, did much; but Count Teba and the Bishop, who interested me and amused me much more, made it quite unnecessary.

I knew Mad. de Teba in Madrid, when she was there on a visit last summer; and from what I saw of her then, and here where I saw her every day, I do not doubt she is the most cultivated and the most interesting woman in Spain. Young and beautiful, educated strictly and faithfully by her mother, a Scotchwoman,—who, for this purpose, carried her to London and Paris, and kept her there between

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