We drove on beyond Padron for about a couple of miles, crossing the bridge over the Ulla near the village of Cesures, which in the _Historio Compostellana_ is called Cesuris. Some think that this fine old Roman bridge is from the time of Octavius Augustus, and that it was called, in his honour, Cæsar’s Bridge, and they believe this to be the origin of the present name. The Ulla is an historic river. It is mentioned by Ptolemy, and by Pomponius Mela, and its name occurs in numerous Gallegan documents of the Middle Ages, for on its waters were borne the ships that brought both Moorish and Norman invaders into Galicia, invaders against whom the fighting archbishops defended their people most courageously. About two miles beyond Cesuris there stands on a ridge in the slope of a green hill a quaint little church belonging to a little village called Janza. I particularly wished to see it, because I had heard archæologists say that on account of its elegant simplicity and beautiful proportions it was thought to be the work of Mateo, the architect of the _Pórtico de Gloria_, or at least that of one of his pupils. I got out of the carriage, and, meeting the village priest’s maid-of-all-work, asked her to show me the easiest path by which I could ascend to the church. As we went along, my guide, who had dropped her boots over the hedge into a field, and was proceeding barefoot, informed me that, as the priest’s servant she had a great many duties, one being to fetch all the water required for household purposes from a neighbouring spring. It was a beautiful day, and the air and scenery resembled that of some of the finer parts of the Yorkshire moors. “How exhilarating it is here,” I remarked. “Yes, you are right,” replied the maid. “It’s very beautiful. A _Padre_ who came here a few weeks ago preached us a sermon about it, and said that, for any one whose heart was right with God, there could not be a more beautiful or a [Illustration: PADRON] [Illustration: BRIDGE OF ALONSO, WHERE THE TAMBRE JOINS THE RIA DE NOYA] more healthful spot than this. But why have you come so far to see such a poor little church as ours? And where have you come from?” “I have come from England,” I replied. “Have they any religion in England?” she asked. “Oh yes,” I answered; “we have both religion and churches.” “But do they worship God there--and confess?” “Yes.” “Then it must be in France where they have no religion!” she cried. “Why do you think that?” I asked. “Because they have turned all their monks and nuns out of the country, and now they have no church and no religion.” “But the churches are there still,” said I. “I know all about it,” she replied. “Some of the nuns they turned out came to live in a _palacio_ near here for a time. Now they have a home in Madrid.” “And some of the nuns came to England,” said I. “And did the English give them shelter?” she asked eagerly. “Yes.”