 my employ, of the name of Juan Lopez, had been thrown into the prison of Villallos, in the province of Avila, by order of the cura of that place.  The crime with which he was charged was selling the New Testament.  I was at that time at Labajos, in the province of Segovia, and the division of the factious chieftain Balmaseda was in the immediate neighbourhood.  On the 22nd, I mounted my horse and rode to Villallos, a distance of three leagues.  On my arrival there, I found that Lopez had been removed from the prison to a private house.  An order had arrived from the corregidor of Avila, commanding that the person of Lopez should be set at liberty, and that the books which had been found in his possession should be alone detained.  Nevertheless, in direct opposition to this order, (a copy of which I herewith transmit,) the alcalde of Villallos, at the instigation of the cura, refused to permit the said Lopez to quit the place, either to proceed to Avila or in any other direction.  It had been hinted to Lopez that as the factious were expected, it was intended on their arrival to denounce him to them as a liberal, and to cause him to be sacrificed.  Taking these circumstances into consideration, I deemed it my duty as a Christian and a gentleman, to rescue my unfortunate servant from such lawless hands, and in consequence, defying opposition, I bore him off, though entirely unarmed, through a crowd of at least one hundred peasants.  On leaving the place I shouted, “Viva Isabel Segunda.”

As it is my belief that the cura of Villallos is a person capable of any infamy, I beg leave humbly to intreat your Lordship to cause a copy of the above narration to be forwarded to the Spanish government.—I have the honour to remain, My Lord, Your Lordship’s most obedient,

George Borrow.

To the Right Honourable
   Lord William Hervey.

After the rescue of Lopez we proceeded in the work of distribution.  Suddenly, however, the symptoms of an approaching illness came over me, which compelled us to return in all haste to Madrid.  Arrived there, I was attacked by a fever which confined me to my bed for several weeks; occasional fits of delirium came over me, during one of which, I imagined myself in the market-place of Martin Muños, engaged in deadly struggle with the chieftain Balmaseda.

The fever had scarcely departed, when a profound melancholy took possession of me, which entirely disqualified me for active exertion.  Change of scene and air was recommended; I therefore returned
