the head of the Matadors who happened to be clumsy in killing the bull. Soldiers were stationed everywhere; not unfrequently their services are called into requisition, for nothing excites a Spaniard more than his national bloody game, and disturbances often occur. We sat amid a haze of cigar smoke which made me quite giddy. Amongst a group of ragamuffins a quarrel arose which nearly ended in a fight. An army of grooms dressed in scarlet blouses and wearing yellow caps (the national colours) began to water the arena. The entrance of the President of the Bull-Fight was the signal for the band to strike up, and it continued to play at intervals during the horrible performance. The door opposite the President opened wide and the procession began. First of all the “Alguazil” (herald) entered the ring, mounted on a beautiful bay horse adorned with a red velvet saddle. He himself was clad as if he had just stepped out of a “Velasquez” painting. He wore a black velvet suit and a large black hat ornamented with scarlet plumes. After having pranced round the ring he stopped beneath the President’s box, and, taking off his plumed hat, begged to know if the performance might begin. Assent being given, the huge golden key of the door, behind which the six bulls who were to be killed that day were shut up, was thrown down and gracefully caught by the “Alguazil” in his hat, after which he pranced to fetch his “Quadrilla.” The gates on the opposite side of the arena were flung open, and a team of six superb grey mules, who were intended to drag out the dead bulls and horses, rushed in, decorated with yellow and scarlet ribbons, with pyramids of plumes and bells upon their heads, harnessed into shafts at the end of which a long iron hook was dragging. After having pranced noisily round the arena, the mules disappeared by the same door. Then the “Quadrilla” appeared on the ring and a roar of applause went up. First came Legartijo and Frascuello, the two most celebrated Matadors of Spain, who were to act that day, clad in spangled, coloured jackets, tight-fitting knee breeches, white stockings and leather slippers, wearing like “Figaro” a black wig with a short pig-tail and a three-cornered hat. Behind came the “Picadores” mounted on their poor decrepit horses. They were dressed in leather suits, their legs covered with armour to save them from the horns of the bull, and wore broad black sombreros. The Picadores blindfold their miserable steeds, tying a cloth round their right eye, and take them into the ring to be gored by an infuriated bull. The horses are slashed and spurred forward to a certain death on the pointed horns of the maddened formidable animal. At each “Corrida” there are about a dozen horses killed. Sometimes, when all the horses are exterminated, the insatiable audience claims new victims, shouting “_Mas caballos!_” (Bring on other horses!) The Picadores were followed by the “Capadores,” the men who wave