We were once retiring home at break of day, when Don Juan, who never quitted us, insisted upon our being introduced at that moment to one of two brothers of the name of Ribera, who had, the evening before, arrived from his farm. Remonstrance was in vain: Don Juan crossed the street, and “the wicket opening with a latch,” in primitive simplicity, we beheld one of the most renowned _braggadocios_ of Olbera lying in bed, with a gun by his side. Ribera, so unceremoniously disturbed, could not help greeting the visitors in rather rough language; but he was soon appeased, on perceiving that we were strangers. He sat up in his bed, and handed to me a tumbler of brandy, just filled from the ever-present green jar, that stood within his reach upon a deal table. The life I was leading had given me a severe cough, and the muzzle of Ribera’s gun close to my head would scarcely have alarmed me more than the brim-full rummer with which I was threatened. A terrible fit of coughing, however, came to my assistance; and Don Juan interposing in my favour, I was allowed to lay down the glass. The facetiousness of the two Riberas is greatly admired in their town. These loving brothers had, on a certain occasion, gone to bed at their _cortijo_ (farm), forgetting to put out the _candíl_, or lamp, hung up at the opposite end of the hall. The first who had retired urged that it was incumbent on him who sat up latest, to have left every thing in proper order; but the offender was too lazy to quit his bed, and a long contest ensued. After much, and probably not very temperate disputing, a bright thought seemed to have crossed the younger brother. And so it was indeed; for stopping short in the argument, he grasped the gun, which, as usual, stood by his bed-side, took a sure aim, and put an end both to the dispute and its subject, by shooting down the _candíl_. The humour of this _potent conclusion_ was universally applauded at Olbera. I have been assured that the same extinguisher is still, occasionally, resorted to by the brothers; and a gun heard in the night, infallibly reminds the inhabitants, of the Riberas’ lamp.[26] [26] See Note G. LETTER VI. _Seville, ---- 1801._