“I meant a Sunday at home or in London. When I was here last, the thirty-first day of October came on Sunday; and it was the liveliest day I ever saw in Spain. The forenoon was quiet; for some of the people went to church. At noon there was a cock-fight, attended by some of the most noted men in Spain; and I went to it, though I was thoroughly disgusted both with the sacrilege and the barbarity of the show. At three o’clock came a bull-fight, lasting till dark, in which eight bulls and seven horses were killed. In the evening was the opera, and a great time at all the theatres. I confess that I was ashamed of myself for visiting these places on the sabbath; but I was in Spain to learn the manners and customs of the people, and excused myself on this plea. Monday was the first day of November, which is All Saints’ Day. Not a shop was open. The streets were almost deserted; and there was nothing like play to be seen, even among the children. It was like Sunday at home or in London, though perhaps even more silent and subdued. On this day the people visit the cemeteries, and decorate the tombs and graves of the dead with wreaths of flowers and immortelles. I pointed out to you the cemetery in the rear of the Museo. I visited it on that day; and it was really a very solemn sight.”
“I wish I had visited the cemetery,” said Sheridan.
“I am sorry you did not; but I did not think of it at the time we were near it. It is a garden surrounded by high walls, like parts of those we saw in Italy. In this wall are built a great many niches deep enough to receive a coffin, the lid of which, in Spain, as in Washington, is dos d’âne, or roof-shaped; and the cell is made like it at the top. Besides these catacombs, there are graves and tombs. As in Paris these are often seen with flowers, the toys of children, portraits, and other mementos of the departed, laid upon them.”
“I saw a funeral in Geronimo Street yesterday,” added the captain. “The hearse was an open one, drawn by four horses covered with black velvet. I followed it to a church, and saw the service, which was not different from what I have seen at home. When the procession started for the grave, it consisted mostly of berlinas; and its length increased with every rod it advanced.”
“I was told, that, when a person dies in Spain, the friends of the family send in a supply of cooked food, on the supposition that the bereaved are in no condition to attend to such matters,” continued the doctor. “But it is light enough now for us to see the scenery.”
The country was flat and devoid of interest at first; but it began to improve as the train approached Aranjuez, where the kings have a royal residence, which the party were to visit on the return from Toledo.
“What river is that, Dr. Winstock?” asked Murray.
“El Tajo,” replied the doctor, with a smile.
“Never heard of it,” added Murray.
“There you labor under one of the disadvantages of a person who does not understand the language of the country in which he is travelling; for you are as familiar with the English name of this river as you are with that of the Rhine,” replied the doctor.