CHAPTER XXX 



Valladolid, May 12. 

 On Monday, May loth, early in the morning, we set off 

 for Valladolid. By some little misapprehension of the 

 points of the compass, we took the direct north road, 

 instead of the north-west. When we had got to the top of 

 the hill to the north of Segovia, and seen a view of the city 

 by sunrise, — if possible more lovely than yester-evening's 

 sunset, — we discovered, by inquiry, that we were in the 

 way to Escarabajos instead of Coca. So we went down into 

 the valley again, and followed the course of the Eresma. 



The country soon became dreary and sterile. The soil 

 is a sharp white sand, less adapted for vegetation than for 

 the sprinkling of kitchen-flags. After crossing the Eresma 

 again a league or so on this side of Santa Maria de la Nieva, 

 we came upon a forest of huge pines. This sort of pine I 

 had never seen before. It is in character more like Scotch 

 fir than any I know ; but its shape is more cabbage-headed, 

 and the colour a most brilliant emerald-green. The 

 feathery hair (for I don't think a pine can properly be said 

 to possess foliage) was about five inches long, the cones as 

 big as a smallish cocoa-nut. 



As there were a good many lying about which seemed 

 fresh fallen, Harry, whose brother is rather a pine-fancier, 

 made an onslaught upon one to get some seeds to carry 

 home ; and when I saw they were as big as an almond, I 



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