considerable point.  I also ordered numbers of the same advertisement to be struck off in the shape of bills, which I caused to be stuck up in various parts of the town.  I had great hope that by means of these a considerable number of New Testaments would be sold.  I intended to repeat this experiment in Valladolid, Leon, St. Jago, and all the principal towns which I visited, and to distribute them likewise as I rode along: the children of Spain would thus be brought to know that such a work as the New Testament is in existence, a fact of which not five in one hundred were then aware, notwithstanding their so frequently-repeated boasts of their Catholicity and Christianity.

CHAPTER XXI

Departure from Salamanca—Reception at Pitiegua—The Dilemma—Sudden Inspiration—The Good Presbyter—Combat of Quadrupeds—Irish Christians—Plains of Spain—The Catalans—The Fatal Pool—Valladolid—Circulation of the Scriptures—Philippine Missions—English College—A Conversation—The Gaoleress.

On Saturday, the tenth of June, I left Salamanca for Valladolid.  As the village where we intended to rest was only five leagues distant, we did not sally forth till midday was past.  There was a haze in the heavens which overcast the sun, nearly hiding his countenance from our view.  My friend, Mr. Patrick Cantwell, of the Irish College, was kind enough to ride with me part of the way.  He was mounted on a most sorry-looking hired mule, which, I expected would be unable to keep pace with the spirited horses of myself and man, for he seemed to be twin brother of the mule of Gil Perez, on which his nephew made his celebrated journey from Oviedo to Peñaflor.  I was, however, very much mistaken.  The creature on being mounted instantly set off at that rapid walk which I have so often admired in Spanish mules, and which no horse can emulate.  Our more stately animals were speedily left in the rear, and we were continually obliged to break into a trot to follow the singular quadruped, who, ever and anon, would lift his head high in the air, curl up his lip, and show his yellow teeth, as if he were laughing at us, as perhaps he was.  It chanced that none of us was well acquainted with the road; indeed, I could see nothing which was fairly entitled to that appellation.  The way from Salamanca to Valladolid is amongst a medley of bridle-paths and drift-ways, where discrimination is very difficult.  It was not long before we were bewildered, and travelled over more ground than was strictly necessary.  However, as men and women frequently passed on donkeys and little ponies, we were not too proud to be