Cuenca 



of the rock-perched city, where it fans out and sweeps down 

 into the level. They see nothing, or at best only a passing 

 glimpse of the least-striking corner of those precipitous 

 rock-walls, crowned with qviaint buildings, which overhang 

 the deep ravines on either side. But of this and more anon. 



At the moment, we neither knew nor much cared about 

 such things, but rushed into the Parador^ where our first 

 thought was to warm ourselves at a blazing cedar-log fire, 

 whose ambrosial warmth soon tempered our principal 

 grievance to a level where our second thought could thrust 

 up its head. Of course, the second thought was breakfast. 

 The third thought was a cigar, in combination with a 

 saunter in search of the picturesque. 



We were in a more hopeful state of mind now ; in the 

 sunshine, after a decent meal of poached eggs and choco- 

 late ; but still we felt prepared ito be disappointed, after 

 coming eighteen hours' journey merely to see it. However, 

 we had not come so far without excellent testimonials to 

 the meritorious features of the place ; Stirling, before I left 

 England, Gayangos in Madrid, and Ford in the Hand-book, 

 were all eloquent in its praise ; and their collective opinion 

 on any co%a de Espana is probably better worth having than 

 that of any other three men living. Still Ronda stuck in 

 our gizzard, for a disappointed tourist is suspicious of com- 

 mended cities. I think the scalded dog in the proverb 

 would hardly recognise himself in this genteel and somewhat 

 diluted paraphrase. 



A street at right angles to the one in which the Parador 

 stands, whose houses were mostly in ruins, led us to the 

 foot of the city. Instead of entering the gate at the bottom 

 of the hill, we turned to the right up the narrow, deep 

 ravine, over which the quaint, irregular crowd of narrow, 

 many-storied buildings impend, as if they had been jostled 



