From the time we leave Valencia until we reach Jativa, (about fifty miles,) we pass over the "Huerta" (the "garden") of Valencia, one continuous plain of verdure; pastures which are cut from twelve to seventeen times a year. Golden oranges, and other fruits hang above these green fields; and dates, and figs, and peaches, and pears, and quinces, pomegranates, plums, apples, melons, and grapes, and olives, with Indian corn, rice, and every vegetable in equal perfection. Well might the Moors term this plain (with Andalusia) "the Paradise of the East." For centuries after their expulsion, their poets still sang verses expressive of their grief for its loss, and it is said they still mention it in their evening prayers, and supplicate Heaven to restore it to them. {208} And this fertility is all their work. Every stream has been turned from its channel into numberless little canals, which water this luxurious soil; and these are arranged with such skill and care that crop after crop has its share of irrigation, and in its just proportion. From Jativa the country becomes more mountainous. We pass the ruins of an old chateau on a high hill, (Montesa,) seat of an ancient order of chivalry which existed after the suppression of the Templars. We next pass Almanzar, Chinchilla, Albacete, where they sell the famous "Toledo blades," now hardly so famous. Here we are in La Mancha, and when we stop in Alcazar at midnight, we are near the village of Troboso, which Cervantes makes the dwelling of Don Quixote's Dulcinea. Alcazar is claimed as the birth-place of Cervantes. Here we leave our road for the grand route between Madrid and Cordova; and here we are crowded into carriages with other ladies, a fate from which we have hitherto been defended; each conductor treating us as if we had been especially committed to his care, and sparing us all annoyance. Fortunately, at Manzanares two of these ladies leave us, and we make acquaintance with the third, who is very kind and polite; offers us a share of her luncheon, and gives us much information of people and things in Spain. She is a Portuguese, and tells us how much larger and finer are the olive-trees in her country than in Spain; she remembers one tree which eight men could not clasp. From her we hear much of the queen as from an unprejudiced source, and learn, what we gathered afterward from many credible sources, that this poor queen is a good woman, a very pious woman, full of talents and accomplishments, generous to a fault, with strong feelings and affections, which induce her to reward to excess those whom she loves or who have served her; and this has given rise to the injurious reports which have found their way to every foreign newspaper, but which no _good_ people in Spain believe.