Walking through the streets, to the _posada de St. Nicola_, the only good inn in Bilbao, and one of the very best in the Peninsula, I was attracted by two curious exhibitions, one of them very forcibly reminding me that I was in Spain: two well-dressed peasants danced before me the whole length of a long street while another walked behind, playing a sort of trumpet; and in the open space before the principal fountain, some boys were amusing themselves with the representation of a bull-fight; one boy was mounted on another’s back, the undermost representing the horse of the _picador_, the other was armed with a long pole, while a third on foot, his head covered with a basket in which he had fixed two horns, imitated the motions and bellowing of the bull; several others with handkerchiefs, represented the _torredores_, throwing them in the bull’s face. The bull-fights at Bilbao had newly concluded; the Infante had been treated with eight exhibitions, in which thirty-two bulls were killed. This is the highest mark of respect that Spanish authorities can shew to a visitor, and the greater the number of bulls that are sacrificed, the greater of course is the compliment. I remained in Bilbao a fortnight, which I found amply sufficient to see all that merited attention, and to inform myself respecting some of the peculiarities of the province of Biscay. I have already spoken of the situation of Bilbao, as striking and beautiful, but the town itself is not remarkable for its beauty or cleanliness; the smells are most offensive; and lying as it does in so deep a basin among the mountains, which even shut it out from the sea, I can scarcely think Bilbao a healthy city. But by the side of the river, there is a fine promenade all the way to the port, which lies about two miles from the city, and here the inhabitants may catch some of the sea breeze which generally comes up with the tide; a part of this promenade is allotted to the fruit and vegetable market, which I strolled through, the morning after my arrival; there was a most abundant display of every sort of which the season admitted, including an extraordinary quantity of _tomata_,--this is known in the south of France by the name of _pomme d’amour_, and is an important ingredient in Spanish cookery. The bread market is held along with the fruit market, and I found the bread of Bilbao quite equal to that of the other parts of Spain.