brook. When standing on the bridge, the optical delusion is very singular; the torrent of water appears to run up a hill towards the bridge, and the same phenomenon takes place when viewed in either direction.

One of the streets of the city is built almost close to the edge of the precipice, and stairs are hewn out of the solid rock, which lead to nooks in the lower precipices, in which, though there is very little soil, gardens have been formed, where fig and orange trees grow with considerable luxuriance, and greatly contribute to the beauty of the scenery. From the situation of Ronda on the top of a rock, water is scarce, and stairs are constructed down to the river, by which means the inhabitants are supplied. We descended by one flight of three hundred and fifty steps, and at the bottom found a fine spring, in a large cave, which, after turning a mill at its source, contributes to increase the waters of the Guadiaro. From this spot, our view of the lofty bridge was most striking and impressive, and the houses and churches of the city, impending over our heads on both banks, had a most sublime effect. Beyond the bridge, the river takes a turn to the right, and passes under the Alameyda, from which, the precipice of five hundred feet is very bold and abrupt, though interspersed with jutting prominences, covered with shrubs and trees. The Alameyda of this city is by far the most beautiful public walk I have seen in Spain': the paths are paved with marble; the parterres are filled with ever-greens; and over the paths, vines are trained op trelisses, which, in the warmest weather, afford a grateful shade.

Soon after the Guadiaro quits the rocks of Ronda, it receives the tributary streams of the Guadalevi, the Culebras, and the Alcobacen,

and passes over the plain with this increase of water, till, at one league distant, it is precipitated over some lofty rocks, making a cascade of striking beauty, and is at length received into a cavern, where it is lost to the sight. The entrance to the cavern, which is called Cueva del Gato, is very lofty; and I was informed by those who had explored it, that after advancing about a mile, it extends itself into a large lake, on the banks of which are ruins of an ancient edifice : that beyond the lake, which is of unfathomable depth, the passage made by the water is too small to admit of farther discovery; and that, sometimes, the difficulty of discharging all the water by this aperture, causes the lake to rise almost to the roof. The termination of this cave is about four miles from its commencement, where the Guadiaro again becomes visible, and continues its course by Algaucin, till it enters the Mediterra

nean sea.

One of the curiosities of Ronda, is a singular repository for water under the Dominican convent: it consists of a large cavern, nearly on a level with the river, which was supplied with water by means of an aqueduct, which formerly passed over the old bridge: when this city was besieged by the Christians, and no access could be had to the river, it is said that the Moors employed their Christian captives in bringing the water in skins from this reservoir, to supply the wants of the inhabitants: it is descended by means of about three hundred and fifty steps; and on the walls are shewn marks of the cross, which the pious captives are said to have worn with their fingers in passing up and down during their laborious occupation. The cavern is hollowed into spacious saloons, the roofs of which

are formed into domes of prodigious height, and formerly the whole was filled with water, but there having been no necessity of late years to have recourse to this method of supplying that necessary article, the caverns are neglected, and are going so fast to decay, that in a few years they will be filled with the rubbish which falls from the roofs.

LETTER XLIX.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE PERSONS, DRESS, AND MANNERS, OF THE SPANISH

PEASANTRY

THEIR GENEROSITY

CONTRABANDISTS.

RONDA, JAN. 1810.

THE inhabitants of Ronda have peculiarities common to themselves and the other people in the mountainous districts, and obviously differ from the people on the plains. The dress both of the males and females varies as well in the colour and shape of the garments as in the materials of which they are composed, and is peculiarly calculated for cold weather. Their countenances, as I have before noticed, are very expressive, and, in my judgment, superior to those of any race of people I have seen. The men are remarkably well formed, robust, and active, with a flexibility of well-turned limbs, which, doubtless, contributes to that agility for which they are celebrated: but the females in general are of short stature, and the cumbersome dress which they wear so conceals the figure, that it is difficult to determine whether they are well or ill formed; but there is an expression of sensibility in their countenances, and a peculiar grace all their movements, which is extremely fascinating. In walking the streets the women wear veils, to cover their heads, as a substi

in

tute for caps and hats, neither of which are worn. These veils are frequently made of a pink or pale blue flannel, and, with a petticoat of black stuff, form their principal dress. The men wear no hats; but, instead of them, what are called montero caps, made of black velvet or silk, abundantly adorned with tassels and fringe; and a short jacket, with gold or silver buttons, and sometimes ornamented with embroidery, is worn just sufficiently open to display a very highly-finished waistcoat; they wear leather or velvet breeches, with gaiters; so that the whole of the figure, which is generally extremely good, is distinctly seen.

Having observed much of the manners and character of the Spanish peasantry, more especially within the last fourteen days, I feel I should not be doing them justice were I to abstain from speaking of them according to my impressions. I have given some account of their figures and countenances, and though both are good, I do not think them equal to their dispositions. There is a civility to strangers, and an easy style of behaviour, familiar to this class of Spanish society, which is very remote from the churlish and awkward manners of the English and German peasantry. Their sobriety and endurance of fatigue are very remarkable; and there is a constant cheerfulness in their demeanour, which strongly prepossesses a stranger in their favour. This cheerfulness is displayed in singing either antient ballads, or songs which they compose as they sing, with all the facility of the Italian improvisatori. One of their songs varying in words, according to the skill of the singer, has a termination to certain verses, which says, "that as Ferdinand has no wife, he