186 RAMBLES OF A NATURALIST. 



great in geography and in history. Yet the stream 

 is so shallow and contains so little water, that at low 

 tides it almost disappears in the sand before it ' 

 reaches the ocean, whilst the island has been so 

 buried under the accumulations of each season that 

 it is now little more than a sand bank, on which a 

 few half uprooted willows struggle for existence. 

 But this brook is the boundary of France, and this 

 islet was the meeting place of Louis XIV. and 

 Philip IV. The greatness of these recollections, and 

 the inexplicable sentiment which we always experi- 

 ence at the moment of crossing our native frontier, 

 compensate for the actual smallness of the objects, and 

 you descend the hill, and, passing the wooden bridge 

 at Behobie, and almost before you are aware of it, 

 you find that you are in Spain, by being summoned 

 to show your passport at the gate of the Custom 

 House of Irun. Indeed, you will scarcely have 

 found time to cast a hasty glance at Fontarabia, 

 that Moresco- Spanish town, which from the height 

 of its isolated rock can direct the fire of its bastions 

 over the entire plain, while it raises towards the sky 

 its lofty towers and belfries as if the better to keep 

 watch over the sandy bay which encircles its base. 



Owing to the direct road which now connects Irun 

 and Saint Sebastian, the diligence conveys you in 

 two hours to the capital of Guipuzcoa. If you enter the 

 Parador Real, the best hotel in the town, you must 

 request, if you are a naturalist, to have a room in the 

 back of the house, and you will find yourself in an apart- 

 ment as large as a ball-room, and lighted by a high 

 double window, from which you have a view of the 



