hand; read there, while I attend to the cure of this wound, which has not been occasioned through thy fault.'

"It was this moment that first opened up to me that treasure of knowledge and delight that is contained in the work of Cervantes: that moment will never be forgotten by me. The friar had intended to open the book at the page where he had been reading; but ready to drop down with laughing, he could only put the book into my hand. For my own part, I began at the beginning; half the friars went unshaven that day; and when my patron returned from the refectory, he found me still deeply engaged with his book.

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"I perceive, Lazaro,' said he, that thou art worthy of my care,' and so much satisfied was he with some reflections I made upon what I had read, that he affectionately embraced me; and sitting down, explained to me the spirit and object of the book, and descanted upon its perfections. One observation I well remember. When I laugh,' said he, 'it is at the contrast between Don Quixote and his Squire, not at the adventures; these make me sad; for it is melancholy to see the noble-minded Knight always the dupe of his own illusions.'" Here the barber paused a moment in his narrative; re-lighted his segar, took two or three whiffs, and then looking at his old friend the Posadero, with a graver countenance than usual, “Juanes," said he, " read Don Quixote, not for the amusement it may give thee, but for the good it may do thee; 'tis better than an hundred masses; there's that in it will turn a hard heart soft as wool, and change a rogue into an honest man. There a proud man will be taught humility; a cruel man will learn to be compassionate; an avaricious man will read a lesson of generosity; wisdom and piety may be gathered from every page. Ay! Juanes, there's no denying that we were both of us rogues in our youth; and a rogue I should have remained to this day, but for what I learned in that book." Juanes looked not quite at his ease, but said nothing, and the barber continued." When the friar found that I took almost as much pleasure as he did himself in the history of Don Quixote, he was never weary of enlarging upon its beauties, and explaining wherever explanation was neces sary; and I, on my part, by a little exercise of ingenuity, repaid, in some manner, the good offices of the friar. I had always had a turn for handicraft of every kind, and perceiving with how much regret he was obliged to lay down his Don Quixote' and take up his breviary, when he went to join in any of the religious exercises, or even when he was called to the refectory, or walked in the convent garden, I took off the white parchment in which the breviary was bound, and neatly inclosed 'Don Quixote' within it, so that the friar could indulge his passion without intermission, and his devotion appeared only the more ardent. It is true, indeed, that an unlucky dialogue between the Knight and the Squire, sometimes provoked a change of countenance not very reconcileable with the study of the breviary; but I believe the piety of the friar continued unquestioned.

"It was at this time that the war of independence broke out; and it is well known with what fury the Franciscan convents throughout Spain were attacked; none with more than the Franciscan convent of Toledo. We were all in danger of being massacred; and no distinction appeared likely to be made between the friars and their barber. Reverend Father,' said I to my patron, there's no time to be lost; throw aside thy friar's garment, let me unfasten thy artificial beard, clap my hat upon thy tonsure, and, with Don Quixote under thy arm, no one will question thee. As for me, I have not much the air of a friar;—and stay,' added I, when the friar had obeyed my instructions, and was preparing to go, though I would not wrong any man of a quarto, I can see no impiety in taking that which, in another hour, will be in the grasp of a French soldier, and something is besides due to me for wages,' and so running to the relicario, I put in my breast a gold crucifix mounted with emeralds, and joining the friar, we passed out of the garden into the street. What befel the remaining seventy

and four friars, I am unable to tell, but soon after we left the convent a shell burst in the gallery, and threw down one half of the cloisters.*

"Now,' said I to my companion, when we got into the fields, and began to breathe more freely, what hinders us from carrying into effect the project of which we have so often spoken, but which till now was impracticable. Let us together pass over every foot of ground that was traversed by our favourite. I have here in my bosom ten times more than the provision required for our journey.' The friar was overjoyed at my proposal, and we forthwith put it in execution. First, we visited my native town, where I found that both my parents had lately paid the debt of nature; the inheritance that I fell heir to, consisted of an old mangle, and a stock of worm-out linen--for, be it recollected, that my mother was laundress to the Duque de San Carlos-and a few cast-off garments of the Dominicans, which had been the perquisite of my father, who was porter to the convent. I discovered, however, from some papers, that my ancestors had been barbers in the village of Miguel Estaban, and that the name of one of them, many generations back, was Nicholas. Leaving Manzanares, we diligently sought the footsteps of Don Quixote, as far as Barcelona, where I disposed of the cross which I had brought from the Franciscan convent, taking care, however, to provide another of wood, which answered as well all the purposes of devotion. At Miguel Estaban I had learned that there was an opening in my trade, and being well assured that this was the native village of the Knight of La Mancha, and having strong suspicions that I was myself the descendant of barber Nicholas, I felt that Providence had designed me to take the place of my forefathers, and to Miguel Estaban I accordingly returned. The worthy friar who was my companion, feeling some qualms of conscience, entered another convent. The money that still remained of the sum I had received for the cross, purchased some fields, which obtain me respect in the neighbourhood; and upon the produce of these, and of my calling, I have lived happily these fifteen years; and now you have the history of my doings in the world."

When the barber had made an end of his story, and when some comments had passed upon it, which need not be repeated here, it was fast approaching midnight; and as our intention was to penetrate next day into the heart of the Sierra, and to be stirring early, we each retired to our mattresses.

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،،، The appearance of Aurora already rejoices the earth,' " said the barber, in the words of his favourite author, when next morning he pushed open the door of my quarto, and found me asleep; and not long after we were seated upon our mules, and trotting up the bank that rises from the back of the Venta, furnished with a wallet of unusual size, and with a corpulent wine-skin, both forced upon us by the generosity of Juanes, who would accept of no remuneration. There was no path; we rode side by side up the acclivity, among the rosemary bushes and other aromatic plants and shrubs, and soon entered a defile, that shut out the plains behind, and appeared to lead into the bowels of the mountain. “ It is said, in the history of the Knight's adventures," said the barber," that the evening of the same day upon which the adventure with the galley slaves took place, Don Quixote and Sancho arrived in the very heart of the Sierra,' and that 'they took up their lodging between two rocks, in the midst of a great number of cork trees.' Now, in the heart of the Sierra, there are no cork trees, though there are plenty of rocks; and here, at the end of this defile are both rocks and cork trees; and besides, as it was impossible to travel into the heart of the Sierra in a few hours, there appears to be a small inaccuracy here: but there can be no doubt that the spot we are now approaching is that where the Knight and his Squire reposed, and where Sancho had his ass

The Franciscan convent of Toledo was almost destroyed by the French; but when the writer of this article visited Spain, a year ago, they were busily employed in re-building it.

stolen; see, there are the two rocks, and all the trees around them are cork trees.'"

""Twas a touching lament," said I," that which Sancho made over the loss of his ass. Born in my house, the play-fellow of my children, the delight of my spouse, the envy of my neighbours, and comfort of my cares!'"

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Ay!" said the barber, "there's an honest heart there. But come on, the footing is dfficult, and we've a toilsome journey before us." The barber spoke truly; nothing but a mule could have picked its steps; we went round the rocks, and in and out among the cork trees; and after having continued this exercise for a couple of hours, we descended into a narrow valley, traversed by a small rivulet. Here the barber, who led the way, stopped until I rode up to him, and said, "there are so few streams on this side of the Sierra Morena (for they almost all flow down the southern side of the mountain), that we may conclude this to be the hollow, and the brook that watered it, in which the adventurers found a dead mule saddled and bridled, and half consumed by the dogs and the crows;' and where they heard the old goatherds whistle; and where Cardenio came and told a part of his story." In this wild spot we paused a little, while the whole scene so graphically described by Cervantes passed before me. Nor was it a difficult task for the imagination to add to the natural features of the spot the other parts of the picture described by Cervantes; 'twas in me but a slight exertion of memory; for it chanced that shortly before, in the Toledo mountains, I had seen the very object that here arrested the attention of Don Quixote-a dead mule, half consumed, and even then surrounded by the lean dogs and hungry ravens that were devouring it.

"It was doubtless here," said the barber, when a little farther on, we came to a verdant spot of grass at the turning of a rock,'" that Cardenio told his story, and that the Knight of La Mancha quarrelled with him for asserting something in prejudice of the Queen Madasima ;" and having crossed the brook, and entered another defile, we gradually penetrated farther into the mountain, which at every step became wilder, justifying the description given by Cervantes. But true to nature as are the descriptions of Cervantes, they do not of themselves occupy the mind of the traveller who follows in the footsteps of Don Quixote, they serve rather to call to recollection those inimitable dialogues between the Knight and his Squire, in which all that is romantic or extravagant, is opposed to the common-place maxims of every-day life; in which the noble and intellectual is placed in ludicrous contrast with contented ignorance and vulgar honesty; and in which the high-flown language of a distempered fancy is overwhelmed in a cloud of proverbs. Who then, mounted upon his mule, and with one companion, slowly pursuing his way among the rude passes of the Sierra Morena, could do otherwise than see in imagination," the Knight of the rueful countenance" and his faithful Squire, and almost fancy that he listened to the delightful dialogue which on that very spot is recorded to have been carried on, wherein the Knight, with his own peculiar union of grave expostulation and affectionate persuasion, combats the Squire's incredulity upon certain points. "Who," says Sancho, "that hears your worship call a barber's basin the helmet of Mambrino, but will believe that he who affirms such nonsense must be crazed in his understanding? the basin, which is all bruised and battered, I have put up in my bag, in order to be mended at home, and used for the service of my own beard, if ever by the grace of God I come to see my wife and family." "Harkee, Sancho," replies the Knight, “ thou hast the most slender understanding that any Squire did ever possess; what seems a barber's basin to thee I can easily discern to be the helmet of Mambrino, and I cannot but admire the providence of the sage who is my friend, in making that which is really and truly Mambrino's helmet appear a basin to the rest of mankind, because it is of such inestimable value, that if it were known, the whole world would combine to ravish it from me:" and pondering upon the excellent invention of Cervantes, and the inimitable truth with which the characters of his

personages are sustained, I had not observed that the barber had a considerable way outstripped me, and that he had dismounted from his mule, and sat awaiting my approach. "This is the spot," said he, "where the Knight did penance, while Sancho was despatched to Toboso with a letter to Dulcinea," and well it agreed with the description of Cervantes,-for "a gentle rill" tinkled in a hundred windings through "a narrow meadow, so green and fertile, that it ravished the spectator's eye, while the forest trees that grew around, and a thousand delicious herbs and flowers conspired to make the place enchanting." "But," continued the barber, "better things await us here than penance and buffeting; for I begin to long as eagerly to dive into the contents of this wallet, as Sancho did to probe Cardenio's portmanteau, where he found a hundred gold crowns, and, if I mistake not, friend Juanes has had an eye to our comforts, for, body of me,' as Sancho says, the bag is so crammed, that I am not able to thrust my hand into it."

While the barber rumaged the wallet, I took the saddle off my mule, that he as well as his master might enjoy himself, and giving him a slap on the hinder parts, such as the worthy Knight is said to have bestowed upon his Rosinante in the self same spot, I sent him up among the fragrant shrubs, and seated myself upon the grass beside my friend, who had by this time proved the generosity of Juanes. And here the reader must be content to leave me; for although I purpose following in the footsteps of Don Quixote, even to Barcelona, I mean to keep my adventures, as well as the barber's many excellent sayings, a profound secret for the present.

CONCLUDED.

A DAY BY THE DEE.

THE mere tourist through Cambria sees more than enough to repay him for his trouble; but he cannot look upon things in that hallowed light, in which they appear to one intimately acquainted with the localities and past history of the country. The former may contemplate the majestic scenery around him with admiration, and the peaceful demeanour and industrious habits of the people with respect; he may imagine, that it was amidst some of those difficult passes and strong natural barriers which meet his observation, that the legions of Imperial Rome were so often baffled and defeated; and that the shepherd whom he sees upon the mountain side is a descendant from early heroes but to him, who is familiar with the plain where a victory was won, and with the desolated tower where the chieftain held his rule-where beauty presided-and where the harp of the minstrel resounded,-such scenes wear a double charm.

Lord Byron commences his celebrated description of Venice, with-

"I stood in Venice, on the bridge of sighs;

A palace and a prison on each hand :

In like manner I begin by the description of a bridge; but the analogy goes no further-it is not a 66 bridge of sighs," and, though the view from it is extensive, there is neither a palace nor a prison to be seen. Llangollen bridge, which is here alluded to, is one of the Tri Thlws Cymru, i. e. " the three beauties of Wales." Though it is, in itself, a bold and beautiful piece of architecture, it probably is indebted for this proud title, in a great measure, to the magnificent scenery by which it is surrounded. Taken in this light, it claims to be so denominated. The prospect from it is sublime in the highest degree, and may well

arrest the attention either of the poet or the painter. The rapid Dee, careering through the green valley below, while the lofty mountains, hard by, seem wooing the heavens, makes that sudden transition of scenery so delightful to the eye; and the numerous pleasant rides and walks in the neighbourhood, afford an opportunity of beholding it from so many different points, and under so many changing aspects, that variety, in its most captivating garb, is continually revealing itself. To this cause I assign the fact, that, though several pictorial sketches, taken near this spot, have met my view, I never yet beheld any two that very nearly resembled each other.

The traveller who has looked upon these scenes, can hardly have failed to observe, that, on the summit of the loftiest of the neighbouring mountains, are the ruins of an ancient fortalice-Castell Dinas Brân, by name.

، The roofless cot, decayed and rent,
Will scarce delay the passer by;

The tower by war or tempest bent,
While yet may frown one battlement,

Demands and daunts the stranger's eye;
Each ivied arch and pillar lone

Pleads haughtily for glories gone!"

The ascent to the old Castell is about two miles and a half from Llangollen bridge, and though the way thither is, of course, rather steep and toilsome, a good walker ought not to neglect visiting it. The jealous eagle builds her aerie upon the loftiest and least accessible cliff, and the proud and free mountain warriors, who first planned and constructed this antique fortress, seem to have taken a lesson from the imperial bird. The building nearly covers the vertex of the mountain, commanding the approaches to it on every side; and deep fosses are cut through the solid rock where the ascent is least precipitous. When we take into consideration the remote age in which it was constructed, and the modes of warfare then in use, we may conclude that its founder was some "leader not unfitted for the strife." Like many other monuments of past times, it hath survived the names of those who reared it; in the historical records of the country, it can be proved to have existed for centuries not a few. The etymology of its name is accounted for variously: Bryn being the Welsh for " a hill,” and Brân for “a crow;" from either of which it might very appropriately have been derived, as being emblematical of its elevated position. Mr. Pennant inclines to the opinion that it took its name from the mountain river Brân, which flows near it; but is it not as probable that the river, or rather the rivulet, for such it is, should have been named after the mountain? Be that as it may, however, the old Castell is believed to have "braved the battle and the breeze" triumphantly for many a year. In the reign of Henry the Third, Gryffyd ap Madoc, a traitorous Welshman, who sided with the English forces, having been defeated in the field, fled to this fortress as a protection from his enraged countrymen, and it appears that he acted wisely, as they failed to reduce it. Like the celebrated fortress of Ehrenbreitstein, † on the banks of the Rhine, it is believed that Castell Dinas Brân, in its day of pride and power, could only have been reduced by famine or treachery. But, exclusive of the various tales of wars and conflicts, there is another, and, to many, a more interesting event, of which Castell Dinas Brân and its neighbourhood formed the theatre. Long after the old Castell was a deserted place, there was discovered amid the ruins, written upon parchment, an ode from a celebrated minstrel of his day, Howel ap Einion Lygliw, addressed to Myfanwy

According to Leland, an eagle used formerly to build annually in the neighbouring rocks, and the person who was lowered down in a basket to rob the nest, was obliged to have another basket tied over his head to protect him from the fury of the parent bird. * This German name signifies "the broad stone of honour."