Nobody quits the church. We have a solemn procession of the Blessed Sacrament after mass, winding through these beautiful aisles, accompanied by a band of wind instruments, the whole congregation following. We reach home to find our fellow-travellers very much frightened and annoyed at the prospect of a long detention; but we are assured that the worst which can befall us is a delay of a few days, to which we can well submit in this comfortable inn. Making acquaintance with our fellow-prisoners, we grow jolly over our misfortunes. The railways are all cut; General Prim and his colleagues (the exiled generals) are besieging Cadiz; and the queen has fled to Biarritz, to claim the intervention of the Emperor Napoleon. These are some of the rumors which are rife during the day. Hosts of red umbrellas parade the town--the most formidable weapon which we encounter; a few voices faintly cry "Libertad!" and "Viva!" some damp-looking soldiers pass by, with lances from which depend little red flags, looking limp and hopeless in the heavy rain. These troops declare for the people. We ask one of these what they want; the answer is, "Liberty." (Of course.) "And what is that?" "We want a _King_. We will not be governed by a woman." Inflammatory hand-bills are distributed amongst the crowd, very vague in their demands, "_an empty throne_" being the first requisite on the list. One man is killed, (a fine young officer of the queen's troops mercilessly shot down,) and another man is wounded. In the evening, we hear that the revolution is accomplished in Cordova; the insurrectionists have the city! Monday, 21. All is peaceful in appearance, and we go out to shop, to find some of the filagree jewelry for which Cordova is remarkable--an art retained from the time of the Moors. The rain drives us in, and we spend the day with music, books, and in conversation with our new friends--a Spanish lady of rank, who has come to Cordova about a lawsuit, and who shakes with fright, and goes about with a glass of water and a cup of vinegar to quiet her nerves; the poor lady neither eats nor sleeps. The others are of different calibre; a sturdy Scotch lady, and her companion, a sweet and charming German girl. "Who's afeard!" Tuesday, 22.