"Purchase him, Don Jorge, his price is but three thousand reals.* I would not sell him for double that sum, but the Carlist thieves have their eyes upon him, and I am apprehensive that they will some day make a dash across the river and break into Villa Seca, all to get possession of my horse, `The Flower of Spain.'"* About thirty pounds.
It may be as well to observe here, that within a month from this period, my friend the herrador, not being able to find a regular purchaser for his steed, entered into negotiations with the aforesaid thieves respecting him, and finally disposed of the animal to their leader, receiving not the three thousand reals he demanded, but an entire herd of horned cattle, probably driven from the plains of La Mancha.
For this transaction, which was neither more nor less than high treason, he was cast into the prison of Toledo, where, however, he did not continue long; for during a short visit to Villa Seca, which I made in the spring of the following year, I found him alcalde of that "republic."We arrived at the bridge of Azeca, which is about half a league from Villa Seca; close beside it is a large water-mill, standing upon a dam which crosses the river.Dismounting from his steed, the herrador proceeded to divest it of the saddle, then causing it to enter the mill-pool, he led it by means of a cord to a particular spot, where the water reached half way up its neck, then fastening a cord to a post on the bank, he left the animal standing in the pool.I thought I could do no better than follow his example, and accordingly procuring a rope from the mill, I led my own horse into the water."It will refresh their blood, Don Jorge," said the herrador; "let us leave them there for an hour, whilst we go and divert ourselves."Near the bridge, on the side of the river on which we were, was a kind of guard-house, where were three carbineers of the revenue, who collected the tolls of the bridge; we entered into conversation with them: "Is not this a dangerous position of yours," said I to one of them, who was a Catalan; "close beside the factious country? Surely it would not be difficult for a body of the Carlinos or bandits to dash across the bridge and make prisoners of you all.""It would be easy enough at any moment, Cavalier,"replied the Catalan; "we are, however, all in the hands of God, and he has preserved us hitherto, and perhaps still will.True it is that one of our number, for there were four of us originally, fell the other day into the hands of the canaille:
he had wandered across the bridge amongst the thickets with his gun in search of a hare or rabbit, when three or four of them fell upon him and put him to death in a manner too horrible to relate.But patience! every man who lives must die.I shall not sleep the worse tonight because I may chance to be hacked by the knives of these malvados to-morrow.Cavalier, I am from Barcelona, and have seen there mariners of your nation; this is not so good a country as Barcelona.Paciencia! Cavalier, if you will step into our house, I will give you a glass of water;we have some that is cool, for we dug a deep hole in the earth and buried there our pitcher; it is cool, as I told you, but the water of Castile is not like that of Catalonia."The moon had arisen when we mounted our horses to return to the village, and the rays of the beauteous luminary danced merrily on the rushing waters of the Tagus, silvered the plain over which we were passing, and bathed in a flood of brightness the bold sides of the calcareous hill of Villaluenga and the antique ruins which crowned its brow."Why is that place called the Castle of Villaluenga?" I demanded.
"From a village of that name, which stands on the other side of the hill, Don Jorge," replied the herrador."Vaya! it is a strange place, that castle; some say it was built by the Moors in the old times, and some by the Christians when they first laid siege to Toledo.It is not inhabited now, save by rabbits, which breed there in abundance amongst the long grass and broken stones, and by eagles and vultures, which build on the tops of the towers; I occasionally go there with my gun to shoot a rabbit.On a fine day you may descry both Toledo and Madrid from its walls.I cannot say I like the place, it is so dreary and melancholy.The hill on which it stands is all of chalk, and is very difficult of ascent.I heard my grandame say that once, when she was a girl, a cloud of smoke burst from that hill, and that flames of fire were seen, just as if it contained a volcano, as perhaps it does, Don Jorge."The grand work of Scripture circulation soon commenced in the Sagra.Notwithstanding the heat of the weather, I rode about in all directions.It was well that heat agrees with my constitution, otherwise it would have been impossible to effect anything in this season, when the very arrieros frequently fall dead from their mules, smitten by sun-stroke.I had an excellent assistant in Antonio, who, disregarding the heat like myself, and afraid of nothing, visited several villages with remarkable success."Mon maitre," said he, "I wish to show you that nothing is beyond my capacity." But he who put the labours of us both to shame, was my host, Juan Lopez, whom it had pleased the Lord to render favourable to the cause."Don Jorge," said he, "IO QUIERO ENGANCHARME CON USTED (I wish to enlist with you); I am a liberal, and a foe to superstition; Iwill take the field, and, if necessary, will follow you to the end of the world; VIVA INGALATERRA; VIVA EL EVANGELIO." Thus saying, he put a large bundle of Testaments into a satchel, and springing upon the crupper of his grey donkey, he cried "ARRHEBURRA," and hastened away.I sat down to my journal.
