86 Unexplored Spain 
Virgen suffices at once to appease incipient angers, should such 
arise. Thousands of horses and donkeys, moreover, are allowed 
to roam about untended and unguarded, as there is no danger of 
their being stolen. 
The Virgin of the Rocio, it appears, specialises in accidents, 
and many votive pictures hung within the shrine illustrate the 
nature of her miracles. One man is depicted falling headlong 
from a fifth-storey window, another from a lofty pine, a third 
drowning in a torrential flood; a lady is thrown by a mule, 
another run over by a cart, a lad caught by an infuriated bull; 
a beatific-looking person stands harmless amidst fiery forked 
lightning—apparently enjoying it. From all these and other 
appalling forms of death, the survivors, having been saved by 
the Virgin’s miraculous interposition, have piously contributed 
pictorial evidence of the various occurrences. 
A somewhat gruesome relic records the incident that a 
mother having vowed that should her daughter be restored to 
life, she should walk to Rocio in her grave-clothes—and there the 
said clothes lie as evidence of that miracle. 
The festival above described is celebrated each spring at 
Pentecost. There is, however, a second yearly pilgrimage into 
Rocio which originated in this wise. 
In 1810 when the French occupied this country, the village 
of Almonte was held by two troops of cavalry who were engaged 
in impressing recruits from among the neighbouring peasantry. 
These naturally objected to serve the enemy, but many were 
terrorised into obedience. Bolder spirits there were, however, 
and these, to the number of thirty-six, resolved to strike a 
blow for freedom. Having assembled in the thick woods outside 
Almonte, at two o’clock one afternoon they fell upon the un- 
suspecting French and, ere these could defend themselves, many 
were killed and others made prisoners. Finally the French 
commander was shot dead on his own doorstep. ‘The villagers 
of Almonte were horrified at what had occurred, for, although 
they had had no hand in the matter, they felt sure they would 
have to bear the blame” —so runs a Spanish account. 
The few French troopers who had escaped fled to Seville, 
reported the affair, and (wrongly) incriminated the villagers of 
Almonte—precisely as those worthies had foreseen. The General 
