steeps.  Everything here is wild, strange, and beautiful: the hill up which winds the path towers above on the right, whilst on the farther side of a profound ravine rises an immense mountain, to whose extreme altitudes the eye is scarcely able to attain; but the most singular feature of this pass are the hanging fields or meadows which cover its sides.  In these, as I passed, the grass was growing luxuriantly, and in many the mowers were plying their scythes, though it seemed scarcely possible that their feet could find support on ground so precipitous: above and below were drift-ways, so small as to seem threads along the mountain side.  A car, drawn by oxen, is creeping round yon airy eminence; the nearer wheel is actually hanging over the horrid descent; giddiness seizes the brain, and the eye is rapidly withdrawn.  A cloud intervenes, and when again you turn to watch their progress, the objects of your anxiety have disappeared.  Still more narrow becomes the path along which you yourself are toiling, and its turns more frequent.  You have already come a distance of two leagues, and still one-third of the ascent remains unsurmounted.  You are not yet in Galicia; and you still hear Castilian, coarse and unpolished, it is true, spoken in the miserable cabins placed in the sequestered nooks which you pass by in your route.

Shortly before we reached the summit of the pass thick mists began to envelop the tops of the hills, and a drizzling rain descended.  “These mists,” said Antonio, “are what the Gallegans call bretima; and it is said there is never any lack of them in their country.”  “Have you ever visited the country before?” I demanded.  “Non, mon maître; but I have frequently lived in houses where the domestics were in part Gallegans, on which account I know not a little of their ways, and even something of their language.”  “Is the opinion which you have formed of them at all in their favour?” I inquired.  “By no means, mon maître; the men in general seem clownish and simple, yet they are capable of deceiving the most clever filou of Paris; and as for the women, it is impossible to live in the same house with them, more especially if they are Camareras, and wait upon the Señora; they are continually breeding dissensions and disputes in the house, and telling tales of the other domestics.  I have already lost two or three excellent situations in Madrid, solely owing to these Gallegan chambermaids.  We have now come to the frontier, mon