Segovia 



regular in its tactics as a hick-hack, smick-smack cutlass- 

 encounter between two desperate smugglers at Astleys. 

 The combatants push with their heads down, leaning against 

 each other's horns ; shortly they rear high up, and coming 

 down mutually tap their fore-feet sharply together. Some 

 of them would do this eight or nine times running. We got 

 a bowl of goat's milk to drink. It is not quite so good as 

 cow's milk, but there is no great difference. 



Here, next morning, we turned off the Salamanca road 

 towards Segovia. About half-way stands on a barish hill 

 the Real Sitio of Rio Frio. This is a hunting-box of the 

 kings of Spain ; but being a vast oblong building, it was 

 objected that it was too big for a box, and might be more 

 properly called a hunting imperial, or at least a chase-seat. 

 Soon after, the spires and towers of Segovia overtopped an 

 intervening hill. 



The entrance of the city by this way passes through a 

 long, straggling, dilapidated suburb on a low ridge. Pro- 

 jecting beam-crossed gables, propped on posts of wood and 

 granite, or here and there a few Moorish columns, frown 

 above deep-arched portals. Between this suburb and the 

 main body of the city is a valley spanned by the celebrated 

 Roman aqueduct, the honour of whose construction is how- 

 ever disputed by Hercules, the Moors, and the Devil. It is 

 built arch over arch, growing lighter towards the top, and is 

 a very graceful piece of masonry. 



At length we reached the irregular-shaped, unevenly-built 

 pla%a. The shabbiest, wretched old tumble-down house-front 

 in the whole place was that of the principal Segovian posada. 

 We were assured, however, by the mozo de la cuadra^ whom 

 we met under the rickety gateway, that there were splendid 

 new apartments at our disposition ; and effectually the 

 inside turned out both much better and more ample than the 



