My father gives so vivid a description of his adventures and his impressions in his "very rough notes" that I give them in his own words:—

"At 8.15 [Tuesday evening] I started for Spain, my hopes of a direct journey through that country being a little cooled by the fact that although the Spanish Consul-General had positively assured me that the line was clear to Madrid, the Railway Company refused to book me further than Irun, a small town on the banks of the River Bidassoa, and just over the French frontier. All information, however, as to the state of the Spanish lines was refused, ignorance being pleaded." At Bayonne, "while waiting at the station, I was amused by two Spanish 'gentlemen,' who, after looking carefully at every passenger, came up to me and inquired if I was the bearer of letters for Marshal Serrano. Curiously enough, Marshal Serrano, whose ambition seems doomed to just disappointment, had just fled from Spain in a vessel from Santander. I replied in the negative, and the two, whom I presume to have been Spanish detectives, remained watching until the train left Bayonne. At Irun my troubles commenced: the railway line was completely cut, and I must either take to the road or turn back. The road was said to be extremely dangerous, for it was in this district that the vicious and bloodthirsty curé of Santa Cruz had his band. Some assured me that the Carlists—who, all agreed, had possession of nearly the entire Basque district—would not interfere with either English or Americans. Others were equally certain that the priest of Santa Cruz would show no mercy to either if he happened to be in a murdering humour. Everybody advised me not to go alone; but when I found that the only vehicles for more than two persons were some dirty, ricketty, awful-smelling omnibuses drawn by nearly broken-down hacks, in which—the direct route being impossible—nearly twenty miles must be done, at least, in a burning heat, through a dangerous district, before better conveyance could be got, I determined to risk the journey by myself. I hired a small open calèche, with two good horses, and having emphatically explained to the driver that if he stopped voluntarily on meeting with any Carlists I should fire at him, I cocked my revolver, laid it on my knees, and off we went at a sharp gallop, which scarcely ever slackened until we reached San Sebastian. We drove often close to the railway, which I found had been cut in many places; the telegraph wires were hanging loose and useless, many of the posts hewn in two. Two or three times my driver turned to me and said, 'Los Carlistos,' pointing to some men in blue carrying guns and hurrying across the field towards us. Our rate, which on these occasions he accelerated by sharp whipping, carried us on without encounter. Passing near a village on the River Bidassoa, about midway between Irun and San Sebastian, some very rough and ragged-looking men ran up to the carriage, and one, armed with a long knife in his sash, got hold of the door, and addressed me in Basque; but as I did not understand a word, I simply pointed the pistol at his head and waved him sharply away. My driver continued to gallop, whipping his horses, and the other men who shouted to the driver, apparently to stop, having fallen in the rear, my friend with the knife, who appeared a little out of breath and not to like the look of the pistol barrel, followed their example. When we got about two miles ahead, my driver explained to me in French that these were only thieves, and not Carlists. I had afterwards reason to doubt whether this was not a distinction without a difference. The man who drove me into San Sebastian refused to go any further, alleging that between San Sebastian and Vittoria the road was too dangerous. Finding that it was a thirteen hours' ride, and that the necessary relays of horses and oxen for the mountains were prepared, and could only be obtained for the diligence which started at four next morning, I at once booked a place for the coupé of an antiquated machine, which appeared to have lain by ever since the introduction of railroads, and to have been dragged out hastily, and without repairs, in consequence of the sudden interruption of the railway traffic. The clerk who took my money quietly told me that the proprietors could not be responsible for my luggage.... At three o'clock on Thursday morning I was awakened out of a terribly sound sleep, for, not having been in bed since Sunday night, Nature had overcome will; I was more fatigued than I had imagined. At a quarter to four I was seated in the diligence, heavily freighted with luggage, with one fellow-passenger in the coupé [Senor Everisto de Churruca, a Spanish civil engineer, who not only spoke French but Basque], four in the interior, and three in the banquette, or open-hooded seat behind the driver. All these passengers, except one, we dropped at early stages of our journey. The first steep hill we went down at a gallop; but our breaks, old and rusty, would not work; the almost overweighted diligence swerving to and fro—and if we had had a bishop on board we must have capsized; as it was, your light-hearted servant just saved his neck. The diligence came to a standstill at the bottom of the hill, and after great shouting some olive oil was procured, and the screw was twisted backwards and forwards until it forgot its rust in its unwonted oil bath. Again we started, this time at even a greater pace, to make up for lost time....

"The first bodily testimony of the fear of the Carlists was at Tolosa, an old Spanish city, Mauresque in its surroundings, which was fortified with wooden stockades fitted with loopholes for guns. It was well garrisoned with a few regular troops and provincial militia. The volunteers were, on the whole, a soldierly-looking body of men. At Allegria the Town Hall or Public Court House was fortified by the doors and windows being blocked up with rough stones coarsely mortared in, the necessary loopholes being left for firing through. This being in the centre of the town evidenced the fear that the outer works might not be strong enough to resist the Carlist assailants. Between Allegria and Villafranca I came upon a shocking sight. The Carlists had cut the line close to the mouth of a railway tunnel, which they had also partially blown up. The next train from San Sebastian came on with its usual freight of peaceful ordinary passengers, and no friendly warning was given to stay the mad, confiding rush into the arms of death. Two carriages over the side of the embankment, and the guard's van smashed underneath, three carriages on the line crushed into one another, still are there, with the ghastly, sickening, dull, dried traces on them to show how well the bloody work was done. And these are Carlist doings—work by followers of the Divine-right-Bourbon! Prayers are said for these infamous scoundrels in Paris, and subscriptions are advertised for them in the London Times. If they had been Communists instead of Carlists, what then?...

"At Beasain I found that the fine railway bridge was cut by the Carlists, several feet being taken out of the flooring on either side, so that any train coming might be utterly dashed to pieces in a leap to the depths underneath. When coming near Zumarraga we had two yoke of oxen added to our horses, to drag us up the steep hillside, our ascent being upon one of the small range of mountains that apparently link on to the Pyrenees. Here I began to think the danger was passed, as we found men engaged in repairing the permanent way, although the strong guard of soldiers protecting the workmen showed that this was not quite the opinion of the authorities.

"At Mondragon a new style of fortification met my view. All these cities are built with very narrow streets, and here, in the centre of the principal street, a chamber had been run across from window to window of opposite houses, built shot-proof, and loop-holed each side and underneath. This clearly proved that in this neighbourhood the Carlists were looked upon as likely to enter the town itself. At Arichavaletta, where the regular troops were stronger than usual, I was much puzzled by the conduct of the sentries, who first signalled us to stop, and who—when the horses were pulled up to a walk—crossed bayonets to prevent our progress. It turned out that the Commanding Officer had broken his meerschaum pipe, and our important mission was actually to take it to Vittoria to be mended. More fortunate than some of the baggage we carried, it actually arrived at its destination. At Ezcarriaza, a small open town where we made our last change of horses, I noticed that most of the houses were deserted, and the doors and shutters fastened. The remaining inhabitants stared at us with a pitying kind of curiosity, as though they knew not what fate was in store for us. Candidly speaking, as we had now safely done more than four-fifths of our journey to Vittoria, I began to think that there was now scarcely any risk, and the more especially so as all advices of the Carlists placed them much to the north of where we then were. My judgment was inaccurate; the sting of the serpent was in its tail, the last fifth part of our journey was worse than all the rest. When we arrived at the Cuesta de Salinas, where two roads branched off, a rather good-looking young man, in a blue cap and blue blouse sort of uniform, armed with a rifle, a revolver in his sash attached by a ring to a cord slung round his neck, and with a bayonet sword by his side, waved his hand to our driver in the direction of the lower road. This road our diligence now took, our driver saying something we could not hear, and my companion adding to me, 'At last, the Carlists!' About half a mile further, up started in the middle of the road as rough a specimen of the human family as one could wish to meet. Armed and dressed like the previous one, he evidently called on our driver to halt, and as the diligence came to a standstill, two others, worse dressed and badly armed with indifferent guns, joined the first, and I cocked my revolver, keeping it however underneath my coat. Our driver chatted to the Carlists familiarly in the Basque tongue, but too low for my fellow-traveller to catch a word. The last of the Carlists who appeared was probably a deserter, as he wore part of the uniform of a private of the Twenty-ninth Regiment. Whether the three did not feel strong enough to attack us, or whether, as is more likely, they had orders to let us pass into the trap carefully laid at the other end of the road, I do not know; what is certain is, that again our driver gathered up the reins, and away we galloped. I uncocked my pistol, and began to believe that the Carlists were a much maligned body of men. About a mile further, a house still in flames, with traces of a severe struggle close to it, again awakened our attention, and in the distance blue uniforms could be seen.

"At the fuente de Certaban, close to Ullsbarri Gamboa, in the province of Alava, we fairly fell into the Carlists' hands, like fish taken in a net. A party of twelve stopped the roadway, while two kept sentry on the heights close to the road, and some others, whom we could not see but whom we could hear, were close at hand. Our driver descended, and his first act was to give the leader of the Carlist party an ordinary traveller's satchel bag with shoulder-strap, which had evidently been brought intentionally from one of the towns we had passed, and which seemed to give pleasure to the recipient, who at once donned it, two or three admiringly examining it. Approaching me, the leader then asked, in the name of his Majesty Carlos VII., in a mixture of French and Spanish, if I had anything contraband? Unacquainted with the tariff regulations of this Bourbon bandit chief, I gave a polite negative, and was about to descend from the coupé to see more accurately our new visitors, when, on a signal from the chief, they all laid their guns against a bank, one of the sentries descending to stand guard over the weapons. Curious guns they were—English Brown Bess, old Prussian muzzle-loader, ancient Italian regulation muzzle-loader, converted breech loader, and blunderbuss, were represented. All who wore revolvers had new ones, perhaps bought by the funds subscribed by the London Committee.

"The diligence, which only contained one passenger besides myself and Senor de Churruca, was now literally taken by storm; and at present, seeing that there were no signs of fighting, I preserved an armed neutrality, keeping my revolver cocked, but still carefully out of sight under my coat, only moving the pistol-case on the strap, so as to have it ready for almost instantaneous use. The first search appeared to be for letters, and I began to quake for one directed in Mr Foote's[165] best handwriting to Senor Castelar, and of which I was the bearer. I soon found that only the chief could read at all, and I much doubt if he could read anything but print. The principle of natural selection seemed governed by the appropriation of thick and large epistles; and even these, after being turned about, were restored to the driver, who, with a slight shrug of his shoulders, looked on as though he had but little concern in the matter.

"Presently a cry of triumph came from the top of the diligence. Thinking it was my poor black bag containing the Castelar letter, I pressed forward, but was stopped, and a sentry placed in charge of me. His gun was a treasure, and I consider that if he had meant shooting, there would have been nearly as much danger in the discharge to the shooter as to the shot. The triumphal shout had been caused by the discovery of two saddles and bridles, which were at once confiscated by his Majesty's customs collectors as contraband, and despite an energetic protest from the conductor, were carried off behind the rising ground. The next thing seized was a military cap in its oilskin case; uncovered, it was a thing of beauty—a brigadier's cap, thickly overlaid with silver lace. The Carlist commander took possession of this with almost boyish delight, giving his own cap to one of his followers, who had hitherto been decorated with a dirty rag for head-piece. The oilskin covering of the new cap was thrown to the ground, and one of the band, who seemed to have a sudden attack of madness, drew his bayonet and rushed at the poor cover, furiously digging the bayonet through and through, and crying out in Basque that he wished that he had the nigger, its master, there to serve in the same manner. Suddenly and menacingly he turned to me, and angrily asked in Basque whether the cap was mine. When Senor de Churruca translated this into French, it was too much for my gravity, already disturbed by the mad onslaught on the unoffending oilskin. My thick skull is of tolerably large size, this cap was small enough to have perched on the top of my head. My reply was a hearty laugh, and it seems to have been the best answer I could have made, my interlocutor grinning approbation. Bayonets were now called into work to break open the portmanteaus of which the owners were absent, and also to open certain wooden cases containing merchandise belonging to the third passenger. Boots appeared to be contraband of war, and liable to instant confiscation. One pair of long cavalry boots did us good service, for the chief determined to get into them at once, and luckily they were so tight a fit that they occupied his time and attention for nearly twenty minutes, during which period the searchers came to my black bag, and found the official-looking envelope containing the vote of sympathy from the Birmingham meeting. As I was in a Catholic country, and the Carlists were pious Catholics, I adopted the views of the equally pious Eusebius, and shouted lustily, 'Io Inglese, esta mia passeporta.' The man who held it looked at it, holding the writing upside down, and returned it to its place. Fortunately I had no spare boots, and my Carlist friends had no taste for shirts, so I got leave to fasten up my bag. My fellow-traveller, who had a fine military-looking appearance, and who had just come from Porto Rico, underwent a searching cross-examination, and I began to think he was to be walked off into the mountains. Fortunately, he not only talked Basque well, but had considerable presence of mind, and after exchanging cigars with the second in command (the first was still struggling into his boots, one of which resolutely refused to go on), he was allowed to move about uninterfered with. No. 3 passenger was in sore trouble; he had about thirty umbrellas, and was required to pay 2½ reals for each, and also duties on some other articles, which he said amounted to more than their value. Senor de Churruca expostulated with the Carlists in their native tongue, while I reasoned with passenger number three in French. His difficulty was very simple: the Carlists wanted more money than he had got, and he looked bewailingly at his broken boxes and soiled goods. I got him to offer about thirty pesetas; these were indignantly refused, violent gesticulation was indulged in, our driver now really taking active part on our side, but occasionally breaking off and running up to the top of the nearest hill, as though looking for some one. At last the guns were picked up and pointed at us, everybody talked at once, and it looked as if it would come to a free fight after all, when suddenly some cry came from a distance—at first faintly, then more clearly; and whether some other prey approached, or whether the soldiers were coming along the road we had left, I know not, but number three's pesetas were hurriedly taken, and this sample of the army of Carlos VII. hastily disappeared, leaving us the unpleasant task of repacking the luggage on the diligence as best we could, with the cords which they had recklessly cut when too hurried to untie. Senor de Churruca stated that the Carlists claimed to have no less than 3000 men well armed in the Montanas de Arlaban, round which the road passed, of whom 500 they said could be brought on the spot by signal in a few minutes. We resumed our route, pleased and disgusted—pleased at our lucky escape, and disgusted because the more than two hours and a half's delay would render us too late for the night express to Madrid.

"The road, too, was now more dangerous for the horses, as the telegraph wires lying across the road in curls made traps for their legs, and driving at a gallop was occasionally difficult. At last we came in sight of Vittoria. Outside, in the road, we came across a large body of armed regulars playing pitch and toss, and next a volunteer, in full equipment, driving a pig." From Vittoria "at eleven on the morning of Friday we started for Miranda, the train being escorted by nearly a regiment. The first railway station after leaving Vittoria—Nanclares—had been turned into a veritable fortress by hastily constructed stone barricades, and was full of troops; but we had no novelties until we reached Miranda at 1·30, except that an officer of the 12th Regiment had with him a little baby about twelve months old. Strange baggage in time of war! At the stations a private came and nursed it. I dared not make any inquiry as to his little companion, fearing I might give offence." At the Miranda station a couple of detachments of prisoners were brought in, of all ages from twelve to sixty-five. "The whole of these prisoners were to be sent to Cuba, to fight there for the Government against the Cuban insurrectionists. I could not help thinking that this practice of expatriating these Carlists was as impolitic as it is most certainly illegal. The practice was commenced by Senor Zorilla, and the present ministry have unfortunately followed in his footsteps." Between Miranda and Burgos four railway stations burned to the ground showed where the Carlists had been. "From Burgos I had a weary night's ride to Madrid, morning dawn showing me, on the left of the line, about twenty miles from the capital, the famous Escorial, chronicled amongst the wonders of the world. Just after, in a deep cutting through the rocks near Las Rozas, we pulled up with a sudden jerk and jump, which threw us off our seats. On descending hastily from the train, I found that these priest-ridden Carlist savages had planned here our total destruction. Some wood and iron had been fixed in two places on the rails, and an empty rubbish truck had been turned upside down right on our track. Fortunately our train kept the rails, and although mischief was done to the engine, we all escaped unhurt, save for a rough shaking. A few of us hastily climbed the rocks, and I confess it was almost a disappointment to find no one in sight. I felt in my anger a desire to take vengeance with my own hand. If the train had gone off the line, we should have been pounded against the rocks, and nothing could have saved the bulk of us from death or frightful injury."