The paseos of Valencia are scarcely proportionate to the greatness of the city; but indeed, every road from Valencia is a paseo, because they all lead through its beautiful plain, and are all skirted by trees, close enough planted to afford a sufficient shade. The captain-general, too, kindly throws open his garden, which is remarkable for its profusion of flowers, its myrtle bowers, its acacias, and its orange-trees, which I saw there for the first time as a wall-fruit. I counted no fewer than sixteen in one cluster. I have several times spoken of “Valencia tiles,” which, in all the cities of the south of Spain, are used for floors; and are not only highly ornamental, but most appropriate to the climate. In Valencia, these tiles are, of course, more universally in use than elsewhere, owing to their greater cheapness; but the best qualities are expensive, even when bought at the manufactory. I saw there a very large assortment, varying in price according to the design, from two to six reals; and when it is considered that the squares are not more than nine inches, it is obvious, that to cover an extensive suite of apartments with these at 1_s._ a-piece, must be greatly more expensive than the most sumptuous carpet. A good workman, employed in painting the tiles, earns as much as a dollar per day. I now prepared to leave Valencia. There is a diligence twice a week to Barcellona; but, being desirous of visiting the site of the ancient Saguntum (now Murviedro), I resolved to make only partial use of the public conveyance. Accordingly, having hired a tartana, I left Valencia after an early breakfast, and took the road to Murviedro. About half a league from Valencia, stands the _Convento de los Reyes_, one of the richest in Spain; and leaving my little vehicle at the gate, I applied for leave to see the interior, which was immediately accorded by a very civil, and even courteous monk, who accompanied me through the building. In a former chapter, when speaking of the riches of the convents, I referred to this, and mentioned the conversation that passed between the friar and myself; I need not, therefore, repeat it here. The chief distinction, however, of this convent, is the collection of manuscripts which were bequeathed to it by the founder, who, along with his magnificent endowment, enjoined that every day, and for ever, a mass should be said for the repose of his soul. Among the manuscripts, I was shown a fine copy of Livy, and many illuminated copies of the fathers; but the chief treasure is the _Roman de la Rose_, of so early a date as the ninth century. I was glad to see the friar show something like enthusiasm in displaying these literary treasures.