At five o'clock, we rose to go and take a turn while waiting for supper. Ocaña is not rich in monumental buildings, and its best title to celebrity is the desperate attack made by Spanish troops on a French redout during the war of invasion. The redout was taken, but nearly the whole of the Spanish battalion was killed. Each hero was interred on the spot where he fell. The ranks were so well kept, in spite of a deluge of grape, that they can still be traced by the regularity of the graves. Diamante has written a piece called "The Hercules of Ocaña," produced, no doubt, for some athletic champion of prodigious strength, like the Goliath of the Olympic Circus. Our presence at Ocaña called this circumstance to our memory. The last of the harvest was being got in at an epoch when the corn scarcely begins to assume its yellow tint in France, and the sheaves were carried to large areas of beaten earth, where horses and mules tread out the grain beneath their unshod hoofs. Both mules and horses are harnessed to a sort of sledge, on which the man superintending the operations stands upright in a posture of proud and graceful ease. Much self-command and skill are required to keep on this frail machine, as it is whisked along by three or four horses which are ever being lashed most lustily. A painter of the school of Leopold Robert would not fail to turn these scenes of Biblical and primitive simplicity to great account. Fine swarthy faces, sparkling eyes, Madonna-like features, costumes full of character, brilliant light, azure and sun would not fail him here any more than in Italy. That evening the sky was of a milky blue colour, dashed with rose; the fields appeared, as far as the eye could reach, like an immense sheet of pale gold, where, here and there, you perceived a cart, looking like a small island in an ocean of light, and drawn by oxen which were almost hidden beneath the sheaves with which the cart was loaded. The wild notion of a picture without shade, which is so inherent to the Chinese, was realized here. All was sun and light; and the deepest tint that appeared upon the scene was of pearl grey. At length we were summoned to a pretty good supper, or which, at least, our appetites made us think so; it was served in a low room, decorated with little paintings on glass, of somewhat curious Venetian taste. After supper, as my companion, Eugène, and myself, were but mediocre smokers, and as we could take but a very small part in the conversation, on account of the necessity we were under of saying everything we had to say in the two or three hundred words with which we were acquainted, we withdrew to our rooms, greatly discouraged at the different stories about robbers which we had heard related at table, and which, as they were only half understood, appeared all the more terrible to us.