CHAPTER XVII 



LA MANCHA 



THE LAGOONS OF DAIMIEL 



Immediately to the north of our " Home-Province " of Andalucia, 

 but separated therefrom by the Sierra Morena, stretch away the 

 uplands of La Mancha — the 

 country of Don Quixote. The 

 north-bound traveller, ascend- 

 ino- through the rock-goro-es 



O O CD O 



of Despenaperros, thereat 

 quits the mountains and enters 

 on the Manchegan plateau. 

 A more dreary waste, ugly 

 and desolate, can scarce be 

 imagined. Were testimony 

 wanting to the compelling 

 genius of Cervantes, in very 

 truth La Mancha itself would 

 yield it. 



Yet it is wrong to describe 

 La Mancha as barren. Kather its central highlands present a 

 monotony of endless uninteresting cultivation. League -long- 

 furrows traverse the landscape, running in parallel lines to utmost 

 horizon, or weary the eye by radiating from the focal point as 

 spokes in a wheel. But never a break or a bush relieves one's 

 sight, never a hedge or a hill, not a pool, stream, or tree in a 

 long day's journey. Oh, it is distressing, wherever seen — in 

 Old World or New^ — that everlasting cultivation on the flat. 

 True, it produces the necessary fruits of the earth — here (to wit) 

 corn and wine. 



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