This was the last work that Cervantes published. He had finished "Persiles and Sigismunda," and meditated the "Second Part of Galatea," and two other works, whose subjects we cannot guess, though he has mentioned the titles ("Bernardo" and "Las Semanas del Jardin"); but of these no trace remains. He published the "Second Part of Don Quixote" at the end of 1615, and being then sixty-eight years of age, he was attacked by the malady which not long after caused his death. [Sidenote: 1616. Ætat. 69.] Hoping to find relief in the air of the country during spring, on the 2d of the following April he made an excursion to Esquivias, but, getting worse, he was obliged to return to Madrid. He narrates his journey back in his preface to "Persiles and Sigismunda:" and in this we find the only account we possess of his illness. "It happened; dear reader; that as two friends and I were returning from Esquivias--a place famous on many accounts;--in the first place for its illustrious families; and secondly for its excellent wines;--being arrived near Madrid, we heard, behind, a man on horseback, who was spurring his animal to its speed, and appeared to wish to get up to us, of which he gave proof soon after, calling out and begging us to stop; on which we reined up, and saw arrive a country-bred student, mounted on an ass, dressed in grey, with gaiters and round shoes, a sword and scabbard, and a smooth ruff with strings; true it is, that of these he had but two, so that his ruff was always falling on one side, and he was at great trouble to put it right. When he reached us, he said, 'Without doubt your Honours are seeking some office or pretend at court, from the archbishop of Toledo or the king, neither more nor less, to judge by the speed you make; for truly my ass has been counted the winner of the course more than once.' One of my companions replied, 'The horse of señor Miguel de Cervantes is the cause--he steps out so well.' Scarcely had the student heard the name of Cervantes than he threw himself off his ass, so that his bag and portmanteau fell to right and left--for he travelled with all this luggage--and rushing towards me, and seizing my left arm, exclaimed, 'Yes, yes! this is the able hand, the famous being, the delightful writer, and, finally, the joy of the muses!' As for me, hearing him accumulate praises so rapidly, I thought myself obliged in politeness to reply, and taking him round the neck in a manner which caused his ruff to fall off altogether, I said, f I am indeed Cervantes, sir; but I am not the joy of the muses, nor any of the fine things you say: but go back to your ass, mount again, and let us converse, for the short distance we have before us." The good student did as I desired; we reined in a little, and continued our journey at a more moderate pace. Meanwhile, my illness was mentioned, and the good student soon gave me over, saying, 'This is a dropsy, which not all the water of the ocean,