The journey from Lugo to Santiago is pleasant so far as the country is concerned, and there is one advantage in the extremely slow and grave pace of the diligences in this part of the world, that it always allows of the scenery being well studied. Moreover, in these long rides there is a pleasure and relief in being able to take a good walk without much risk of being left behind, which can hardly be appreciated by the modern Englishman who travels only in his own country. The general character of the landscape is somewhat like that of the Yorkshire moors, diversified here and there by beautiful valleys, the sides of which are generally clothed with chestnut, but sometimes with walnut, oak, and stone-pines. The heaths were in full flower, and looked brilliant in the extreme, and here and there were patches of gorse. The road is fine, and has only recently been made. The country is very thinly populated, so that we passed not more than two or three villages on the way, and in none of them did I see signs of old churches of any interest. It is difficult to picture anything more wretched than the state of the Gallegan peasantry as we saw them on this road. They were very dirty, and clothed in the merest rags: the boys frequently with nothing on but a shirt, and that all in tatters; and the women with but little more in quantity, and nothing better in quality. The poorest Irish would have some difficulty in showing that their misery is greater than that of these poor Gallegans. My journey to Santiago was quite an experiment. I had been able to learn nothing whatever about the cathedral before going there, and I was uncertain whether I should not find the mere wreck of an old church, overlaid everywhere with additions by architects of the Berruguetesque or Churrugueresque schools, instead of the old church which I knew had once stood there. In all my Spanish journeys there had been somewhat of this pleasant element of uncertainty as to what I was to find; but here my ignorance was complete, and as the journey was a long one to make on speculation, it was not a little fortunate that my faith was rewarded by the discovery of a church of extreme magnificence and interest. The weary day wore on as we toiled on and on upon our pilgrimage, and it was nearly dark before we reached the entrance of the city, and after much delay found ourselves following a porter up the steep streets and alleys which lead up from the diligence Fonda to the principal inn, which happens fortunately to be very near the one interesting spot in the city--the cathedral. The next morning showed us not only the exterior of the city, but enabled us also to form a good idea of its surroundings. It stands on the slope of a steep hill, with great bare and bleak hills on all sides, rising generally to a great height. From some of them the views are no doubt very fine, and the town with its towers and walls may well look more imposing than it does on a nearer view.