In the outskirts of the town we observed some massive yellow walls, with noble Gothic arches and windows, deep and barred, standing all alone amidst the dust of this arid climate, and looking upon the barren hills in the distance; but there was no living soul to attest whether they were convent or prison. Here and there, too, some rich relics of ancient sculpture were seen built up amidst the bricks of a barn or storehouse--the tottering Past nursed in the arms of the strong Present! In and around the city, feudal towers, grand old gateways, and the palaces of ancient nobles, of the old constables of Castile, with their _façades_ ornamented with wonderful devices, armorial bearings, and heraldic monsters, are frequent objects of interest to him who can read a country's history in its antiquarian remains. From the eminence on which is built the convent of La Cartuja, situated about two miles from the city, a general view of Burgos is obtained, with the lace-like pinnacles of the Cathedral spiring to the skies, surrounded on all sides by the desolate hills and far-stretching Sahara-like plains, with scarce a patch of verdure for the aching eye to rest upon in any direction. We, in a weak moment, hired a _calèche_ to convey us to the convent; but as the road thither was over the most harassing ground, now following the track of a water-course strewn with great stones, then across level ground in which we sank up to the axles in white dust, we came to the conclusion that, like the man in the sedan-chair when the bottom came out, if it were not for the honour of the thing, we might just as well walk. Indeed, we might as well have owned to walking at once,--walking ostensibly, for though the carriage of honour was by our side, we really had to walk half the way.