Don Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, otherwise the Cid, was a gentleman of very warlike tendencies, and spent most of his time in giving vent to the martial ardour within him. He has consequently been regarded by his countrymen of all times as their national hero, and wrapped in a bright haze of fabulous glory and fame. He, however, accomplished a good deal of the work attributed to him, and chased, harassed, conquered, and imprisoned the Moors throughout Spain to a most satisfactory extent. His love for the beautiful and heroic Ximena exemplifies the adage that none but the brave deserve the fair, and shows his prowess in the bowers of Venus as well as in the field of Mars. Shortly after his death a grand poetical glorification of his exploits was offered to his manes in the "Chronicle of the Cid;" and another, a very long time after, by the immortal Corneille in his masterpiece of "Le Cid." Upon the occasion of a great victory, some Moorish notables came to the hero and prostrated themselves at his feet, saluting him with the title of _Seid Campeador_, or Champion Prince--whence the appellation _Cid_. Valencia was the last Moorish stronghold which fell to his arms; and there, after hanging up his spurs and horse-bit upon the Cathedral wall, where they remain to this day, he died in the year 1099. Any inquiring traveller may now satisfy the combined bent of a historical and anatomical mind by inspecting within a wooden urn in the Town Hall of Burgos, the bones of the immortal Don Rodrigo and his lovely Ximena. Only to see the Cathedral of Burgos would amply serve as a grateful end to a pilgrimage from the uttermost parts of the earth. Coming suddenly from round the angle of some narrow street, there bursts upon the eye that glorious Gothic pile, with all its airy pinnacles. In the interior how rich is this majestic temple with that unequalled pomp so significant of the Roman Catholic faith, while the solemn walls are fretted with chaste ornaments of the rarest beauty, and with groups of slender, graceful pillarets which rise arrow-like to the lofty roof. When one views it, as Scott recommends us to view Melrose, in the pale moonlight, how profound is the impression produced by the weird-like appearance of the immense building, the design of which is so noble, so perfect! The awed pilgrim from other lands, when his eyes first rest on this unequalled shrine, stands enchanted, as if rooted to the spot, his soul leaping within him, transported with the beauty of so rare a spectacle.