Next to Barcelona, we visited Tarragona, travelling there by rail. Tarragona is situated on an eminence commanding a fine view of the Mediterranean, and I was much interested in the architecture of the cathedral, a building of the eleventh century, fully described by Street in his work on “The Gothic Architecture of Spain.” Whilst tarrying at Tarragona, I made an excursion to Poblet, rarely visited by English, though frequented by French and German travellers. This place is distinguished by monastic remains of extraordinary magnificence. You wander amongst courts, cloisters, and dormitories, through stately halls, which once boasted of a magnificent library rich in MSS.; through a palace appropriated for the use of royal and noble visitants; and through a stately church with a nave of seven bays. The architectural grandeur of the whole is amazing; I was surprised to learn that it is so rarely seen by our countrymen. Kings and nobles were brought there for interment, and in that respect it vies with our Westminster Abbey. At Poblet shattered tombs may still be seen; and few, if any, but Spaniards of purest blood, were permitted to sleep within the monastic walls. A marble slab may be seen covering the remains of an Englishman, described in the Spanish guide book as “Felipe de, Marquése de Malbursi y de Cacharloch,” etc. Wharton was the English name of this well-known personage, who was made Knight of the Garter by James II. He had become a Roman Catholic, but his father was a distinguished English Nonconformist. Our next destination was Valencia, to which city we travelled by rail, enchanted as we approached it, by beautiful scenery which one does not find abundant in Spain. Augustus Hare breaks out rather rapturously respecting his approach: “Day broke in time to show us the first vision of tall palms, with their feathery foliage, rising black against one of Tennyson’s ‘daffodil skies,’ which above, still deep blue, was filled with stars.” The groves and gardens appeared to me very beautiful; and the soil is so fertile, that lucerne is sown fifteen times in the course of a year. Valencia has battlemented walls; and its arched gate, the Puerta de Sarranos, reminds one of old English barbicans. It is an Oriental kind of place, and has charmingly arched entrances for light—_agimes_,—_i.e._, openings by which the sun enters. The city is full of memories, connected with the Cid, which I have not space to introduce; but I may mention that precursors of the Reformation entered the city in 1350,—under the name of Beghards, who figure rather prominently in the religious history of that period.