As yet we were only acquainted with the _galera_ on two wheels; we now had the pleasure of making a trial of one on four. An amiable vehicle of this description happened to be about starting for Cordova; it was already occupied with a Spanish family, and we helped to fill it still more. Just fancy rather a low wagon, with its sides formed of a number of wooden spokes at a considerable distance from each other, and having no bottom save a strip of spartum on which the trunks and packages are heaped, without much attention to the irregularities of surface which they may present. Above the luggage are thrown two or three mattresses, or, to speak more correctly, two or three linen sacks, in which a few tufts of wool but very slightly carded, float about, and on these mattresses the unfortunate travellers are stretched transversely, in a position very similar (excuse the triviality of the comparison) to that of calves that are being carried to market. The only difference is, that the travellers do not have their feet tied, but their situation is not much more comfortable for all that. The top consists of a coarse cloth, stretched on wooden hoops, and the whole machine is driven by a _mayoral_ and dragged by four mules. Our fellow-travellers consisted of the family of an engineer, who was rather a well educated man, and spoke very good French. They were accompanied by a tall, villanous, fantastic-looking individual, who had formerly been a brigand in Jose Maria's gang, and who was now a superintendent of mines. This gentleman followed the _galera_ on horseback, with a knife stuck in his girdle and a carbine slung at his saddle-bow. The engineer appeared to entertain a high opinion of him, and spoke in very favourable terms of his probity, of which he was perfectly convinced in spite of the superintendent's old trade. It is true that in speaking of Jose Maria himself, he told me several times that he was a brave and worthy man. This opinion, which would strike us as slightly paradoxical in the case of a highway robber, is that of the most honourable persons in Andalusia. On this point, Spain is still Arabian, and brigands very frequently are looked upon as heroes. This is less strange than it may at first appear, especially in southern countries, where men's minds are so easily acted on. Is it not certain that the contempt of death, audacity, coolness, bold and prompt determination, address, and bodily strength, and all the kind of grandeur which belongs to a man who revolts against society, as well as the qualities which exercise so great an influence over minds as yet but little civilized, are exactly those which constitute great characters, and is the people so very wrong in admiring them in these energetic individuals, even although they employ them in a reprehensible manner?