"You have seen much service then," we observed.--"Wherever any was to be seen," he replied. A fresh supply of cigars was brought, another cork drawn, and before the bottle was finished, we had persuaded our visitor to give us his whole history.
The narration occupied the best part of the night, and will consequently require a proportionate space in these pages. Not therefore to detain my readers in a miserable country venta, and break the thread of my journey, I will reserve it for future chapters, concluding this with a brief description of the remaining portion of the road between Granada and Cordoba.
We left Castrò at dawn, (minus the curb chains, valise straps, and divers other little detachable articles of our equipment, which are serviceable to cavalry soldiers); taking leave of our new acquaintance, who, though he had impressed us with no great feeling of admiration for his character or principles, had, nevertheless, greatly interested us by the narration of his adventures.
The road to Cordoba is dreary in the extreme; being principally across extensive plains of pasture, uninterrupted by a single tree, uncheered by a solitary cottage, or even _rancha_, and after leaving the banks of the _Guadajoz_, unrefreshed by a single drop of water. It does not, however, leave the river immediately on quitting Castrò; on the contrary, so eccentrically does the stream wind, that it is twice crossed (by fords) within a very short distance of the town, and then continues for a considerable distance along its right bank. Indeed, until arrived within a league and a half of Cordoba, the road does not altogether lose sight of the winding river.
The quality of the route depends upon the season. In summer it is _carriageable_;[169] in winter, knee-deep in mud, and liable to be flooded. The distance between the two towns is reckoned six _leguas regulares_, i. e. about 24 miles.
On reaching some high table land, about five miles from Cordoba, the glorious capital of the western caliphs, and the splendid valley of the Guadalquiver, first burst upon the sight. The view is less extensive, perhaps, but far more striking than that on approaching Granada from Alhama; and when arrived at the edge of the range of hills bordering the rich valley, it becomes perfectly enchanting. The bright city, with its venerable cathedral, its Moorish bridge, its castle and royal palace, is offered to the spectator's close inspection. The gracefully winding Guadalquiver, bathing its mouldering walls, may be traced for miles along the spacious plain that stretches to the East; its flat and fertile banks covered with the varied foliage of the olive, pomegranate, and citron. Beyond the city, a range of wooded mountains, studded with numerous _cortijos_, convents, and _quintas_, rises abruptly from the plain; presenting a fine relief to the sun-lit edifices of the city; and behind this, again, successive ranges of wild mountains show themselves, terminating at length in the cloud-capped ridge of the _Sierra Morena_.