My interview with him lasted nearly an hour. Some singular discourse passed between us. I found him, as I had been informed, a bitter enemy to the Bible Society, of which he spoke in terms of hatred and contempt; and by no means a friend to the Christian religion, which I could easily account for. I was not discouraged, however, and pressed upon him the matter which brought me thither, and was eventually so far successful as to obtain a promise, that at the expiration of a few months, when he hoped the country would be in a more tranquil state, I should be allowed to print the Scriptures. As I was going away he said, “Yours is not the first application I have had: ever since I have held the reins of government I have been pestered in this manner by English, calling themselves Evangelical Christians, who have of late come flocking over into Spain. Only last week a hunchbacked fellow found his way into my cabinet whilst I was engaged in important business, and told me that Christ was coming. . . . And now you have made your appearance, and almost persuaded me to embroil myself yet more with the priesthood, as if they did not abhor me enough already. What a strange infatuation is this which drives you over lands and waters with Bibles in your hands! My good sir, it is not Bibles we want, but rather guns and gunpowder to put the rebels down with, and, above all, money, that we may pay the troops. Whenever you come with these three things you shall have a hearty welcome; if not, we really can dispense with your visits, however great the honour.” _Myself_.—There will be no end to the troubles of this afflicted country until the Gospel have free circulation. _Mendizabal_.—I expected that answer, for I have not lived thirteen years in England without forming some acquaintance with the phraseology of you good folks. Now, now, pray go; you see how engaged I am. Come again whenever you please, but let it not be within the next three months. “_Don Jorge_,” said my hostess, coming into my apartment one morning, whilst I sat at breakfast, with my feet upon the _brasero_, “here is my son Baltasarito, the national. He has risen from his bed, and hearing that there is an Englishman in the house, he has begged me to introduce him, for he loves Englishmen on account of the liberality of their opinions. There he is; what do you think of him?”