Spain in 1830, vol. 2Inglis, Henry D. (Henry David)
History
Spain in 1830, vol. 2
Inglis, Henry D. (Henry David)
Spain -- Description and travel
The drive along the sea coast, from Alcala to Venicarlo, is singularly
pleasing; the road is generally close to the sea, which is not here, as
we are accustomed to see it in northern countries, bounded by barren
sands, or chalky cliffs; but is fringed by the finest verdure, and
often throws its little impotent waves almost to the roots of the lovely
Algarrobos that bend over it. The sun, too, was getting low; the sea
glittered beneath it, and the crowded trunks of the dark green trees,
were all bright in its beams. Venicarlo, I have already mentioned as
famous for its exported wines; but there is also a wine made for
consumption, which I tasted as we changed mules, and found it so
excellent, that I filled a small wine-skin with it, which I borrowed
from the conductor. The chief produce of the country between Venicarlo
and the river Ebro, after the vineyards cease, is the Algarrobo. In this
part of Spain, the bean is bought of the owner at sixteen reals three
quarters the quintal; and I was informed, that a good bearing tree will
produce about four quintals and a half: this, however, I can scarcely
credit. The produce of a single tree would, in that case, be worth
15_s._; and a forest of Algarrobos would therefore be the most
productive of all lands. It was dusk before we reached the confines of
Catalunia, and the bank of the Ebro,--here a very different stream from
that which I had crossed at Miranda, where it divides old Castile from
Biscay. The river, at Amposta, is about three hundred yards wide,--less
than might be expected from a river which runs so long a course as the
Ebro,--and within so short a distance of the sea. We crossed in a boat,
and walked to the venta, which is about a mile distant from the bank.
Here we remained all night; but the entrance to Catalunia was rather
discouraging. Although the diligence was expected, no supper had been
provided, nor was there any thing in the house that could be converted
into a supper. I was forced to be contented with a cup of chocolate; and
the night being cold, and the fire bad, I was glad to escape to bed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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