On the morning of the next day I was seated at breakfast in a large apartment which looked out upon the _Plaza Mayor_, or great square of the good town of Vigo. The sun was shining very brilliantly, and all around looked lively and gay. Presently a stranger entered, and, bowing profoundly, stationed himself at the window, where he remained a considerable time in silence. He was a man of very remarkable appearance, of about thirty-five. His features were of perfect symmetry, and I may almost say of perfect beauty. His hair was the darkest I had ever seen, glossy and shining; his eyes large, black, and melancholy; but that which most struck me was his complexion. It might be called olive, it is true, but it was a livid olive. He was dressed in the very first style of French fashion. Around his neck was a massive gold chain, while upon his fingers were large rings, in one of which was set a magnificent ruby. Who can that man be? thought I—Spaniard or Portuguese; perhaps a Creole. I asked him an indifferent question in Spanish, to which he forthwith replied in that language, but his accent convinced me that he was neither Spaniard nor Portuguese. “I presume I am speaking to an Englishman, sir,” said he, in as good English as it was possible for one not an Englishman to speak. _Myself_.—You know me to be an Englishman; but I should find some difficulty in guessing to what country you belong. _Stranger_.—May I take a seat? _Myself_.—A singular question. Have you not as much right to sit in the public apartment of an inn as myself? _Stranger_.—I am not certain of that. The people here are not in general very gratified at seeing me seated by their side. _Myself_.—Perhaps owing to your political opinions, or to some crime which it may have been your misfortune to commit. _Stranger_.—I have no political opinions, and I am not aware that I ever committed any particular crime. I am hated for my country and my religion. _Myself_.—Perhaps I am speaking to a Protestant, like myself? _Stranger_.—I am no Protestant. If I were, they would be cautious here of showing their dislike, for I should then have a government and a consul to protect me. I am a Jew—a Barbary Jew, a subject of Abderrahman. _Myself_.—If that be the case, you can scarcely complain of being looked upon with dislike in this country, since in Barbary the Jews are slaves. _Stranger_.—In most parts, I grant you, but not where I was born, which was far up the country, near the deserts. There the Jews are free, and are feared, and are as valiant men as the Moslems themselves; as able to tame the steed, or to fire the gun. The Jews of our tribe are not slaves, and I like not to be treated as a slave either by Christian or Moor. _Myself_.—Your history must be a curious one; I would fain hear it.