The inhabitants, old and young, usually assembled after sunset in front of their houses, for the purpose of amusing themselves in a variety of ways. Their music is that of the bandeiro, a clumsy instrument, somewhat resembling a tambourine, though of a square form; it is generally played on by some ill-favoured sybil, who, beating the parchment with her skinny palm, produces a dull monotonous sound. When this is accompanied by a brace of similar hideous gorgons, catterwauling in doleful strains, the concert thus produced is not of such a very tender nature as "to soften rocks or bend the knotted oak," but a heavy hum-drum piece of discord, not unlike a funeral howl, each stanza being finished with a tedious drone by way of chorus, which has a strong relationship to the Scotch bag-pipes, and serves the purpose of a narcotic upon the admiring spectators. To this delightful harmony do the rustics trip, not on "the light fantastic toe," but with a pavior's tread, slowly moving their limbs; the stupid, sleepy and inanimate clodpoles waving at the same time their hands from side to side, in a pendulous manner, and seeming ready to fall into the arms of their equally lifeless partner.
CHAPTER XVI.
Without the slightest degree of reluctance we departed from Monte Hermosa, on a beautiful morning, (the 8th inst.) Our road extended over that wild desert track which stretches towards the Sierra de Placentia, and proved throughout extremely bad and rugged. About twelve o'clock, after a march of two leagues and a half we got into Santivanez, and passing through that village, (which is a poor and miserable place,) we proceeded to Aggal, half a league further. Here we halted for the remainder of the day. The following morning we resumed our journey, and travelled through some romantic scenery. About a mile from the village of Gihon, we came to a remarkable old bridge, having but one arch, of immense span, its abutments being supported by the solid rocks, between whose steep and rugged sides flowed one of the tributary streams of the Alagon. The situation of this extraordinary bridge, combined with the wildness of the neighbouring country, produced on our minds an effect as impressive as it was delightful. While crossing this dangerous pass, and looking down upon the torrent that rushed furiously beneath, a terrific chasm presented itself, of at least a hundred feet in depth; and, in consequence of the slight elevation of the battlements, it required some degree of caution to avoid an awful somerset into the dark abyss.
The road, after we had safely cleared the stream, continued along the face of a craggy precipice, and at length brought us to a thick forest of oak and elm trees.
We halted at a pretty village called La Sacita where we had good quarters; mine were at the dwelling of a respectable tiller of the ground, named Bernardo Lopez, who not only gave me a hearty welcome to his abode, but regaled me with the best of every thing that his means could afford. His better half, our worthy patrona, had spent the day at a distant town, and as in her way home she had to pass through a lawless track, the anxiety of her family for her safe return was extreme; Maricita, in particular, (the youngest daughter,) was quite unhappy on the subject, and the tears ran quickly down her very pretty and intelligent face.—The mother however soon came to the door, to the no small delight of the expectant party, and joy once more resumed its accustomed place at the social hearth of this contented family. The fire was replenished with an additional supply of fagots, and a plentiful store of plain though wholesome food was laid upon the table; in the mean time, a tribe of labouring hinds and foresters joined the group, and taking up a position in the chimney corner, made a furious attack, like hungry wolves, upon the sausages with which their platters were abundantly supplied. On the conclusion of their repast, the fair damsels of Bernardo beguiled the lazy hours with sundry cheerful ditties; but from the liberal use of garlick, onions, and other delicious things by which their breath was perfumed, the air of those songs, at least in one sense, was anything but ambrosial, however affecting might be the words.
We proceeded on our journey towards the mountains on the following day, and entered some very romantic scenery, unequalled in beauty, as well as grandeur of effect, by any through which we had hitherto travelled. When within a league of the Puerto de Banos, the promontory closes into a narrow pass, where a strong and almost impenetrable defile presents itself, and where a handful of resolute men could maintain the post against superior numbers. We entered the village of Banos, where we lodged that night, and marched on the succeeding day to Bejar.
After winding round the heights beyond Puerto de Banos, and about one league further, we perceived the town of Bejar, which, from its elevated site on a craggy range of hills, forms a most conspicuous feature in the surrounding scenery. The road became narrow as we approached the town, conducting in a circuitous direction along the sides of the rocky precipice, having gained the ascent of which we arrived at the gates by 2 o'clock, and proceeded through a long street to the Plaza. The balconies on each side were lined with a pretty fair display of Spanish beauty, from whose sparkling black eyes we were assailed in every quarter. They all appeared ready to leap down from the keeping of their duennas, and were so overjoyed at the sight of the first English soldiers that ever entered within their walls, that they continued one ceaseless cry of "vive los Ingleses, viva, viva," at the same time waving handkerchiefs, flags, and streamers, as we passed along.
It was easy to account for the joyful reception which we got from the inhabitants. The French were in their immediate neighbourhood, the inhabitants of the town momentarily dreaded a visit, and therefore hailed us as sent to protect them from the plundering hands of the invaders.
Bejar is situated on the crest of a barren and rocky chain of heights, branching from the mountains of Candelario. It is as large as Placentia, but differently planned, being composed of one extensive range of houses, enclosed by walls, now falling into ruin, yet still denoting that the place must have been of some importance, to have required the aid of defences such as these were, in former times.
The approach is by means of a road or pathway, difficult and bad, in consequence of the broken and irregular nature of the ground, and there are five entrances by arched gateways, leading from Salamanca, Alba, and other places. The houses are generally solid and well-built, forming a contrast with the streets, which are narrow, mean-looking, and most indifferently paved.