We departed from Valencia, regretting to quit so soon a city where there was so much that was attractive. The train moved off, and after we had proceeded a short distance the night came on. Our appetites being sharpened by long fast and the sea air, we inquired of the guard at which station the passengers would descend to dine. Being told at Castellon, we leant back on the cushions, smiling at each other with that benevolent expression of countenance which the prospect of the refreshment of the inner man produces on the outer--a sort of artificial good-nature, in fact. So fickle, however, is the mental constitution of man, so evanescent everything appertaining to human nature, that in about an hour from the happy moment just recorded we were sitting in extreme and opposite corners of the carriage, addressing _staccato_ remarks to each other, which, although intended to be general, and to carry with them all the _suaviter in modo_ required by the conventionalisms of good society, were at the same time remarkable for the transparency of their tenor. And though in our conduct to each other we had been perfect models of outward politeness, the manner and tone of the conversation became somehow painfully civil, not to say rather nervous and unpleasant, like that of two persons who, having at length, as they think, found each other out, adopt a tone of studied high-polite reserve, not unmixed with a complacent consciousness of their own superiority. And why all this? Wherefore this sudden estrangement between two fond hearts? The answer is simply Stomach, and nothing more; for it is trying, very trying, after one has been assured that dinner waits at a certain station, to find upon arriving there, mad with hunger, that no adequate preparation has been made for you, and, on asking for the _buffet_, to be directed to a greasy board in the open air, behind some wooden palings, presided over by a dirty old man with two saucers before him full of snails, a plate of minnows, and a collection of little cakes made with rancid oil instead of butter, which condiments we have to clutch at through the railings like monkeys in a cage, the only light being the illumination afforded by a farthing candle. We say it is very difficult under such circumstances to avoid the display of a little ill-nature. The railway from Valencia, going somewhere in the direction of Barcelona, is a miserable mockery of civilisation. The engine one would imagine was about five-horse power, by the pace at which it went; and it had to stop every five or six miles to renew its supply of water. To all appearance it was simply an old boiler, furnished in a hurry with a few mechanical intestines. Not the least of its evils was that it emitted a pestilential black fume. The motion of the train had an effect upon the passengers something analogous, we should think, to that of being tossed in a blanket.