From Sea to Sea 



genuine antiques, and if so, I shall not so much regret the 

 trouble they cost me in making. 



Yrun, May 20. 



All Spain lies behind us ! We are at the end of our 

 journey. This afternoon, as we threaded the green valleys 

 of the Pyrenees, a flutter stirred the sultry air, and the sea- 

 breeze met us as we trudged along, leading our weary beasts 

 by the bridle. 



As the sunset was wreathing the mountain-peaks with 

 rose and lilac garlands, we pressed on over ridge after ridge, 

 often disappointed, but still hoping to get a view out of 

 Spain before the day should fade. 



At length, at the very point of sunset, we turned the 

 shoulder of the last hill, and the great blue ocean-plains lay 

 below us. Eight hundred weary miles of zig-zag riding had 

 brought us from Velez, where we saw the last of the Medi- 

 terranean, and now the unquiet Bay of Biscay slept like a 

 mill-pond between us and England. 



The sunset died away into dusk as we rode down into 

 Yrun, beyond whose river darkened away in dim perspec- 

 tive the undulating frontier of La belle France. 



The poor ponies, unconscious of their destiny, and I 

 suppose catching some touch of enthusiasm by sympathy 

 with their masters, went into the end of their last stage 

 with more spirit than has been their wont of late. 



Since coming in and giving them their corn, I have been 

 to see them and dressed the Moor's fetlock. Poor beasts, 

 we cannot tell what will become of them now. We have 

 worked them hard : but I fear they may find still harsher 

 taskmasters, who will feed them ill and work them till they 



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