The Pyrenees 



mountain district seem honest, heartv, industrious folk. 

 The dress is not unpicturesque. The blue or scarlet berreta 

 of Bayonne, a large round flat cap, very like the Kilmarnock 

 bonnet of our northern Celts ; the elastic knitted woollen 

 vest of crimson, covered with a fret of blue, and a faja^ 

 make a more graceful costume at any rate than that of the 

 short-waisted, dangle-capped men at the Catalonian end of 

 the same range. 



The cultivation of the land is peculiar ; you see a row of 

 five or six men and women, each handling a sort of forked 

 spade composed of two broad flat prongs ; with this they 

 dig in a line, and by a simultaneous leverage, turn up a long 

 deep sod. 



Cart-wheels are of a simple construction ; instead of a 

 nave and spokes, the wheel is merely a round thick board, 

 three or four feet in diameter. Oxen are shod in a singular 

 manner. The smithies have a stout frame-work of timber, 

 where the ox is hoisted up by a broad belt under his belly, 

 and all his legs lashed fast, in a position for the smith to 

 work upon the hoofs at leisure. They have a very comical, 

 if not tragical appearance, poor beasts, when stretched 

 upon the rack in this manner. 



At Ernani we dined. About half a mile before entering 

 this village, as I crossed a bridge, or rather a viaduct, a 

 walnut had stretched up its fragrant branches from below, 

 and offered to my notice three green nuts, in excellent 

 condition to make pickles. 



I had been fasting since six in the morning (except that 

 small plate of Alpine strawberries at Tolosa,) and was 

 desperately hungry and thirsty. In this condition of gastric 

 craving, the idea of walnut-pickle crossed my mind as a 

 refreshing reminiscence. 



I stretched forth my hand, gathered the nuts, and ate the 



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