supply the market of Cordova with pigeons, and occasionally that of Seville; for my birds are very celebrated, and plumper or fatter flesh than theirs I believe cannot be found in the whole kingdom.  Should you come into my village, you will doubtless taste them, Don Jorge, at the venta where you will put up, for I suffer no dovecotes but my own within my district.  With respect to the souls of my parishioners, I trust I do my duty—I trust I do, as far as in my power lies.  I always took great pleasure in these spiritual matters, and it was on that account that I attached myself to the Santa Casa of Cordova, the duties of which I assisted to perform for a long period.”

“Your reverence has been an inquisitor?” I exclaimed, somewhat startled.

“From my thirtieth year until the time of the suppression of the holy office in these afflicted kingdoms.”

“You both surprise and delight me,” I exclaimed.  “Nothing could have afforded me greater pleasure than to find myself conversing with a father formerly attached to the holy house of Cordova.”

The old man looked at me steadfastly; “I understand you, Don Jorge.  I have long seen that you are one of us.  You are a learned and holy man; and though you think fit to call yourself a Lutheran and an Englishman, I have dived into your real condition.  No Lutheran would take the interest in church matters which you do, and with respect to your being an Englishman, none of that nation can speak Castilian, much less Latin.  I believe you to be one of us—a missionary priest, and I am especially confirmed in that idea by your frequent conversations and interviews with the Gitanos; you appear to be labouring among them.  Be, however, on your guard, Don Jorge, trust not to Egyptian faith; they are evil penitents, whom I like not.  I would not advise you to trust them.”

“I do not intend,” I replied; “especially with money.  But to return to more important matters:—of what crimes did this holy house of Cordova take cognizance?”

“You are of course aware of the matters on which the holy office exercises its functions.  I need scarcely mention sorcery, Judaism, and certain carnal misdemeanours.”

“With respect to sorcery,” said I, “what is your opinion of it?  Is there in reality such a crime?”

“Que se io [170]?” said the old man, shrugging up his shoulders.  “How should I know?  The church has power, Don Jorge, or at least it