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THE TALISMAN; 



AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN. 



A FEW leagues from the celebrated city of Barcelona is a small 

 village, called Puebla Carmona. It stands at the base of a lofty 

 and singularly shaped mountain, the Sierra de Montserrat. The in- 

 habitants are chiefly the proprietors of the adjoining vineyards, and 

 their labourers ; hence, the houses and cottages are neater, and pre- 

 sent to an English eye an appearance of comfort not very usual out 

 of the large towns in Spain. During my wanderings in Catalonia a 

 few years since, I took up my abode in this village, with the inten- 

 tion of making it my head-quarters for a time, and effecting some 

 excursions in the neighbourhood, particularly to the ornamental 

 caverns known as Las Hermitas (the Hermitages), which I under- 

 stood to be situate at a very considerable elevation, and inhabited by 

 some poor monks. I found but one public-house in Carmona, and it 

 is dignified by the title of Fonda Catalana (the Catalan Inn). 

 The fonda can at all events boast of cleanliness, and I did not look 

 for any luxury beyond that rare one in a Spanish hotel. Neverthe- 

 less, there were more agremens in it than I was at first prepared to 

 expect. I usually sallied forth early in the morning, and passed the 

 day in the Sierra. On my return in the afternoon from my moun- 

 tain ramble, a well-cooked olla podrida awaited me, which I washed 

 down with a bottle of a delicious red wine they called guarnacha. 

 The evening did not afterwards pass heavily. The daughter of the 

 innkeeper and vineyard proprietor, for he is both, Marguerita by 

 name a lively, olive-complexioned beauty, with a pair of sparkling 

 intelligent black eyes, ojos habladores, as I called them would, after 

 attending upon me at my meals, bring her guitar, and accompanying 

 her voice with considerable skill, sing to me some of her national 

 canciones, those romantic ballads of the times of the Moors, which are 

 so little known out of Spain, although they contain much beautiful 

 poetry and music. One of these was my especial favourite, and 

 alway received an encore. The number of couplets amounted to 

 more than twenty. It was a Moorish love tale, the ad ventures of the 

 valiant Gazul and the beautiful Lindarabel. With this and other 

 songs, the time passed quickly enough. I found altogether so much 

 amusement, and I regained my health and spirits so rapidly, that I 

 was induced to extend my stay at Carmona, and at length I deter- 

 mined to make a longer excursion up the mountain than I had hitherto 

 accomplished. I resolved to endeavour to reach the summit of 

 Montserrat, and enjoy from thence the splendour of sunrise, which I 

 had often heard described in flowing colours. Marguerita, however, 

 used the most earnest persuasions to induce me to abandon the pro- 

 ject. Although she allowed that my health had wonderfully im- 

 proved, yet she insisted that I was not yet equal to the fatigue that I 

 M.M. No. 108. 4 S 



