"And an unco chappin’ they are making by the water-side, sir, ilka man pounding his wheat between twa stanes, into something to mak’ bannocks wi’. Puir black-avised deevils! I pity them muckle," observed Evan, who, from many circumstances combined, presumed to break the laws of military etiquette, and mingle in the conversation. "It’s an unco thing to march far wi’ an empty wame and fecht fasting. It makes my very heart loup like a laverock, when I think o’ the braw Scots’ brochan and kail, that the miserable folk here ken naething aboot. O, it’s a puir hole this Spain, I think, either to fecht or forage in." "If you grumble thus, Evan, I shall be led to suppose you will make but a poor soldier. We have seen little of Spain yet; the best part of the country and the summer are still before us, and let us hope that this is the worst. But there is little pleasure in abiding in this wretched sheiling, where we are almost choked and blinded with smoke. Let us find out some wine-house, where we can get something to gargle our throats with. Come, Macdonald, we shall be smoked like deer’s hams, if we sit here longer. There are the ruins of the Roman amphitheatre, and other things in this city of Merida, which I would wish to see, and our time is short; we march again in the morning, as you know." On passing down the principal street, their attention was attracted by the ruins of a noble triumphal arch, (a relic of the Roman power,) under which lay mouldering fragments of the rich cornice and marble statues that had fallen from above. Near the arch stood two tall Corinthian columns upwards of forty feet in height, the last remnants of some magnificent temple. The houses were lofty, and decorated with heavy entablatures, pilasters, and ornaments of stucco or plaster, some of them richly gilt, and many had broad balconies of stone or iron projecting over the pavement. On some of them appeared dark-haired and dark-eyed Senoritas, wearing the long sweeping veil and graceful black mantilla, of which so much has been said by romancers, surveying with smiles of wonder and pleasure, the strange scene of so many foreign uniforms crowding the streets, and waving their fans and handkerchiefs, crying to the British officers who passed them, "_Viva! la valiante Inglesa! viva!_" "What beautiful eyes, and splendid figures these girls have!" said Macdonald rapturously, doffing his bonnet to a group of fair ones, whose attention their Highland garb had attracted. "By Heaven! we have no such eyes at home. How they flash under their long lashes! I never beheld such glossy curls as those that stream from under their veils." "I have, Alister," was Ronald’s brief reply.