On descending the eminence, we roamed about for a considerable time, until we at last found ourselves in the midst of about six or eight black huts. “Knock at the door of one of these,” said I to the guide, “and inquire of the people whether they can shelter us for the night.” He did so, and a man presently made his appearance, bearing in his hand a lighted firebrand. “Can you shelter a _Cavalheiro_ from the night and the _Estadéa_?” said my guide. “From both, I thank God,” said the man, who was an athletic figure, without shoes and stockings, and who, upon the whole, put me much in mind of a Munster peasant from the bogs. “Pray enter, gentlemen, we can accommodate you both and your _cavalgadura_ besides.” We entered the _choza_, which consisted of three compartments; in the first we found straw, in the second cattle and ponies, and in the third the family, consisting of the father and mother of the man who admitted us, and his wife and children. “You are a Catalan, sir Cavalier, and are going to your countrymen at Corcuvion,” said the man in tolerable Spanish. “Ah, you are brave people, you Catalans, and fine establishments you have on the Gallegan shores; pity that you take all the money out of the country.” Now, under all circumstances, I had not the slightest objection to pass for a Catalan; and I rather rejoiced that these wild people should suppose that I had powerful friends and countrymen in the neighbourhood who were, perhaps, expecting me. I therefore favoured their mistake, and began with a harsh Catalan accent to talk of the fish of Galicia, and the high duties on salt. The eye of my guide was upon me for an instant, with a singular expression, half serious, half droll; he, however, said nothing, but slapped his thigh as usual, and with a spring nearly touched the roof of the cabin with his grotesque head. Upon inquiry, I discovered that we were still two long leagues distant from Corcuvion, and that the road lay over moor and hill, and was hard to find. Our host now demanded whether we were hungry, and, upon being answered in the affirmative, produced about a dozen eggs and some bacon. Whilst our supper was cooking, a long conversation ensued between my guide and the family, but as it was carried on in Gallegan, I tried in vain to understand it. I believe, however, that it principally related to witches and witchcraft, as the _Estadéa_ was frequently mentioned. After supper I demanded where I could rest: whereupon the host pointed to a trapdoor in the roof, saying that above there was a loft where I could sleep by myself, and have clean straw. For curiosity’s sake, I asked whether there was such a thing as a bed in the cabin. “No,” replied the man; “nor nearer than Corcuvion. I never entered one in my life, nor any one of my family; we sleep around the hearth, or among the straw with the cattle.”