The road to Sanona enters the mountains soon after leaving Los Barrios, ascending, for the first few miles, along the bank of the river Palmones. The scenery is very fine; huge masses of scarped and jagged sierras are tossed about in the most fantastic irregularity, whilst the valleys between are clad with a luxuriance of foliage that can be met with only in this prolific climate.
Looking back, the silvery Palmones may be traced winding between its wooded banks towards the bay of Gibraltar, which, viewed in this direction, has the appearance of a vast lake; the African shore, from Ape’s Hill to the promontory of Ceuta, seeming to complete its enclosure to the south.
After proceeding some miles further, the road becomes a mere mule-track, and the country very wild and barren. The Piedmontese march had been gradually crescendo ever since leaving the cultivated valley of the Palmones, and Damien, as he rode on before us, had already given sundry yet more palpable intimations of impending danger,—firstly, by examining the priming of his old flint gun,—secondly, by trying whether the balls were rammed home,—and, lastly, by producing a brandy bottle from his capacious pocket; when, arrived at the foot of a peculiarly dreary and rocky pass, pulling up and dismounting from his horse, under pretence of tightening the girths of his saddle, he exclaimed, “à present, Messieurs, es preciso cargar—ces lâches d’Espagnols viennent toujours a l’improviste, et se non siamo apparecchiati sarémo tutti inretati come tanti uccellini.—Somos todos muy bien armados con escopetas à dos cañones; y con juicio, no tendremos que temer—ma ... bisogna giudizio!”[102] and in accordance with his wishes thus clearly expressed, we all loaded with ball, and, pushing on an advanced guard, boldly entered the rugged defile, joining our voices in grand chorus in the inspiriting grenadier’s march.
On emerging from this rocky gorge, we entered a peculiarly wild and secluded valley, which, so completely is it shut out from all view, one might imagine, but for the narrow path under our feet, had never been trodden by man. The road winds round the heads of numerous dark ravines, crosses numberless torrents, that rush foaming from the impending sierra on the left, and is screened effectually from the sun by an impenetrable covering of oak and other forest-trees, festooned with woodbine, eglantine, and wild vines; whilst the valley below is clothed, from end to end, with cistus, broom, wild lavender, thyme, and other indigenous aromatic shrubs.
At the end of about three leagues, we reached the head of the valley, where one of the principal sources of the Palmones takes its rise. The neck of land that divides this stream from the affluents to the Celemin, is the pass of Sanona. From hence the Casería is visible, and a rapid descent of about a mile brought us to the door of the lone mansion.
Our arrival was announced to the inmates by a general salute from the countless dogs that invariably form part of a Spanish farmer’s establishment. The horrid din soon brought forth the equally shaggy-coated bipeds, headed by a venerable-looking old man, who, with a slight recognition of Damien, stepped to the front, and, in a very dignified manner, announcing himself as the owner of the Casería, begged we would alight, and consider his house our own.
“My habitation is but a poor one, Caballeros; the accommodation it affords yet poorer. I wish for your sakes I had better to offer; but of this you may rest assured, that every thing Luis de Castro possesses, will ever be at the service of the brave nation who generously aided, and by whose side I have fought, to maintain the independence of my country."—“Bravo, Don Luis!” ejaculated Damien, which saved us the trouble of making a suitable speech in return.
We were much pleased with our host’s appearance: indeed the shape of his cranium was itself sufficient to secure him the good opinion of all disciples of Spurzheim; but this feeling of gratification was by no means called forth by his Casería, from the outward inspection of which we judged the organ of accommodation to be wofully deficient.
The house and out-buildings formerly occupied a considerable extent of ground, but at the present day they are reduced to three sides of a small square, of which the centre building contains the dwelling apartments of the family, and the wings afford cover to the retainers, cattle, and farming implements. A stout wall completes the enclosure on the fourth side, wherein a wide folding gate affords the only means of external communication.
The Casería has long been possessed by the family of its present occupant, but, losing something of its importance at each succeeding generation, has dwindled down to its present insignificant condition. Don Luis strives hard, nevertheless, to keep up the family dignity of the De Castros, though joining with patriarchal simplicity in all the services, occupations, and pastimes, of his dependents.