‘May the Lord God preserve us from evil birds three: From all friars and curates and sparrows that be; For the sparrows eat up all the corn that we sow, The friars drink down all the wine that we grow, Whilst the curates have all the fair dames at their nod: From these three evil curses preserve us, Lord God.’” In about two hours from this time we reached Luarca, the situation of which is most singular. It stands in a deep hollow, whose sides are so precipitous that it is impossible to descry the town until you stand just above it. At the northern extremity of this hollow is a small harbour, the sea entering by a narrow cleft. We found a large and comfortable _posada_, and by the advice of Martin, made inquiry for a fresh guide and horse; we were informed, however, that all the horses of the place were absent, and that if we waited for their return, we must tarry for two days. “I had a presentiment,” said Martin, “when we entered Luarca, that we were not doomed to part at present. You must now hire my mare and me as far as Gijon, {62a} from whence there is a conveyance to Oviedo. To tell you the truth, I am by no means sorry that the guides are absent, for I am pleased with your company, as I make no doubt you are with mine. I will now go and write a letter to my wife at Rivadeo, informing her that she must not expect to see me back for several days.” He then went out of the room, singing the following stanza:— “A handless man a letter did write, A dumb dictated it word for word: The person who read it had lost his sight, And deaf was he who listened and heard.” {62b} Early the next morning we emerged from the hollow of Luarca; about an hour’s riding brought us to Caneiro, a deep and romantic valley of rocks, shaded by tall chestnut trees. Through the midst of this valley rushes a rapid stream, which we crossed in a boat. “There is not such a stream for trout in all the Asturias,” said the ferryman. “Look down into the waters and observe the large stones over which it flows; now in the proper season, and in fine weather, you cannot see those stones for the multitudes of fish which cover them.” Leaving the valley behind us, we entered into a wild and dreary country, stony and mountainous. The day was dull and gloomy, and all around looked sad and melancholy. “Are we in the way for Gijon and Oviedo?” demanded Martin of an ancient female, who stood at the door of a cottage. “For Gijon and Oviedo!” replied the crone; “many is the weary step you will have to make before you reach Gijon and Oviedo. You must first of all crack the _bellotas_: you are just below them.” “What does she mean by cracking the _bellotas_?” demanded I of Martin of Rivadeo.