A strange, inexplicable, hoarse, frightful, and laughable noise had astonished my ears for some time; it sounded like that of a number of jays being plucked alive, of children being whipped, of cats making love, of saws scraping their teeth against a hard stone, of tin-kettles scraped by some harsh instrument, or of the rusty hinges of a prison door turning round and obliged to release its prisoner; I imagined that it was, at the least, some princess being assassinated by a savage necromancer. It was nothing but a cart, drawn by oxen, ascending the street of Irun, and the wheels creaking and groaning piteously for want of being greased, the driver preferring, doubtless, to put the grease in his soup. This cart was, certainly, exceedingly primitive. The wheels were of one piece, and turned with the axle, as is the case with those wagons which children manufacture out of the rind of a pumpkin. The noise can be heard at the distance of half a league, and is not displeasing to the aborigines of these parts. In this fashion they hear a musical instrument which costs nothing, and plays of its own accord as long as the wheel lasts. The noise is to them as harmonious as the feats of a violinist upon the fourth string are to us. A peasant would not give a "thank you" for a cart which did not play. This kind of vehicle must date from the deluge. On an old palace, now transformed into an official residence, we beheld for the first time the placard of white plaster which disgraces many other old buildings, with the inscription--_Plaza de la Constitucion_. It must certainly be a fact, that whatever is concealed in anything comes out somehow or other; a better symbol of the actual state of the country could not have been selected. A constitution forced upon Spain is a handful of plaster upon granite. As the ascent was toilsome, I walked as far as the gates of the town, and, turning round, cast a last look of farewell upon France. It was truly a magnificent sight. The chain of the Pyrenees sloped away in harmonious undulations towards the blue surface of the sea, crossed here and there by bars of silver; while, thanks to the excessive clearness of the air, in the far, far distance was seen a faint line of pale salmon-colour, which advanced in the immeasurable azure, and formed an immense indentation in the side of the coast. Bayonne and its advanced guard, Biarritz, occupied the extremity of this point, and the Bay of Biscay was mapped out as sharply as on a geographical chart. After this, we shall see the sea no more until we are in Andalusia. Good night, honest Ocean!