Before finally quitting Barcellona, I resolved to pay a visit to Monserrat,--a place that has derived remarkable notoriety from the singularity of its situation. I accordingly left Barcellona at the early hour of four, in a galera, which passed within half a league of the foot of the mountain. The country between Barcellona and Martorrel is the same as I have described on my journey from Tarragona; and from Martorrel to the foot of Monserrat, the land is divided between corn and wine; it is every where populous, and every where exhibits proofs of Catalunian industry. The approach to Monserrat from this side, is not remarkably striking, owing to the elongated form of the mountain; but as we approach nearer, its height, and singular conformation, become sufficiently imposing. After quitting the galera, I walked to the small village that lies at the foot of the mountain; and having got some chocolate, and a guide, I began the ascent. A zig-zag path, of not less than a league and a half, leads up the mountain to the convent, which is not seen until at an abrupt turn it is discovered lying on a platform, in a recess of the rocks which rise in perpendicular cliffs directly behind it. The view from this platform is wild and imposing; towards the north, a long line of snowy summits marks the Pyrennean boundary of the Peninsula; towards Barcellona, the Mediterranean is seen beyond the rich and diversified country that lies between the mountains and the sea; while the mountain itself,--its lower part encircled by a belt of wood,--its grotesque range of rocky peaks above, and its convent, and hermitages, are not the least striking features of the landscape. In the interior of the convent I saw little deserving of notice; the occupation of it by the French, and other causes, have left it nearly a ruin; but its ruins shew its former extent. The architecture of the building is mixed; part of it is Gothic; while later parts were built in the time of Julius II., and of Philip III. There were formerly seventy monks in the convent; but now, it is inhabited by thirty only. I saw in the refectory, a pilgrim who had come all the way from St. Jago in the Asturias, and who was going to Rome. By the rules of the convent, a pilgrim is fed three days within it. He was a man past the middle age, and was rather reserved in his communications; not appearing willing to tell any more than where he had come from, and whither he was going. His habit was covered with scallops and little images.