The seats are divided into boxes and open galleries, the boxes, or _palcos de sombra_--seats in the shade--being in the best position for watching the contests during the hot months. In early spring a seat in the sun is to be preferred, for the air of Madrid is keen at this season. The sight of the Plaza de Toros on the day of a great _corrida_ leaves an impression that will not quickly fade from the memory. In the _palcos_ are the rank, beauty, and wealth of Madrid, while packed in the humbler seats is a vast mass of the people. The ladies wear _mantillas_, and carry fans, which flutter the whole time; and animation, devoid of any trace of rough behaviour, characterises the immense crowd. A tense hush falls on the throng when the first bull of the day bounds in from the dark _toril_, and confronts his gaily-attired persecutors in the big arena. During the fight the spectators grow excited almost to the verge of frenzy. There is a roar of voices, and the sound of canes struck upon the benches, an indescribable din, which reaches its height when a popular _espada_ delivers a dexterous thrust of the blade into the neck of the baffled and infuriated _toro_. While the combat proceeds, there are alternating comments of “Bravo toro,” as the bull shows courage, and groans and hisses when the animal displays cowardice or apathy. Both the bull and the men must act their parts with zeal, energy and bravery, or the crowd is disappointed, and wont to express disapprobation in an unqualified manner. On the day of a _corrida_ Madrid is roused into a mood of joyous expectancy. The town is _en fête_; the streets are thronged, and every kind of vehicle is seen in the procession to the Plaza de Toros. For an hour the carriages stream in, and the crowd on foot files along to the tiers of seats. Overhead is the vivid sky and a burning sun, which brightens all that it shines upon. Thousands of fans are waving; thousands of dark eyes gleam from the _palcos_. Presently the music begins, from the large orchestra a stirring air thrills the arena, and almost drowns the voices of the crowd. One is reminded of a scene in the amphitheatre in the days of the grandeur of Rome, when gladiatorial contests attracted a vast concourse of all classes of the population, for the same love of daring and agility still sways the passion of the people, and the same indifference is evinced when blood flows.