The Prado, divested of its living attraction, is certainly not entitled to the extravagant praises bestowed upon it by the Spaniards: it is a fine spacious _paseo_, at least two miles long, and from 200 to 300 yards broad, adorned with rows of trees, and with several fountains; the frequented part, however, is not more than half a mile in length, and has scarcely any shade. But the Prado, although in itself not possessing the natural attractions of that of Vienna, or perhaps of some others, is an admirable resort for a stranger who is desirous of seeing the population of Madrid. When I reached it, it seemed already crowded, though a dense stream of population was still pouring into it from the _Calle de Alcala_. On the part appropriated to carriages, there was already a double row of vehicles, bespeaking, by their slow motion, the stateliness of character said to belong to the Spanish aristocracy. The turn-out of carriages presented a strange _melange_ of elegance and shabbiness; some few were as handsome as can be seen in Hyde Park; some--truly Spanish,--were entirely covered over with gilding and painting; many were like worn-out post chaises; and several like the old family pieces that are yet sometimes to be seen at the church door on Sunday, in some remote parishes in England, I observed the most ludicrous incongruity between the carriages and the servants; many a respectable, and even handsome carriage might be seen with a servant behind, like some street vagabond who, seeing a vacant place, had mounted for the sake of a drive. I actually saw a tolerably neat carriage driven by a coachman _without stockings_; and another with a rheumatic lacquey behind, whose head was enveloped in flannel. But let me turn to the pedestrians.