At the turn of a bridge, admirably adapted for an ambuscade of brigands, we beheld a small column surmounted by a cross. It was erected to the memory of a poor devil who had ended his days in this narrow pass, in consequence of his having fallen a victim to _manoairada_ (violent death). From time to time we met travelling _maragatos_, in their costume of the sixteenth century, which consists of a tight-fitting leathern doublet, fastened with a buckle, wide breeches, and a broad-brimmed hat. We also met several _Valencianos_, with their white linen drawers, like the robes of the Klephts, their handkerchief twisted about their head, their white gaiters bordered with blue, and without feet, after the fashion of the antique _Knemis_, and their long piece of cloth (_capa de muestra_), crossed diagonally by bright-coloured stripes, and draped over their shoulders in a very elegant manner. All that we could perceive of their flesh was as tawny as Florentine bronze. Then, again, we saw strings of mules, caparisoned in the most charming fashion, with bells and party-coloured fringe and housings, while their _arrieros_ were armed with carbines. We were enchanted, for we had found an abundant supply of the picturesque of which we were in search. The higher we ascended, the thicker and broader became the strips of snow; but a single sunbeam made the mountains stream with water, like a woman laughing in the midst of her tears; on every side little brooks, scattered about like the dishevelled tresses of some Naïad, and clearer than crystal, forced their way downwards. By dint of climbing, we reached the summit of the range, and seated ourselves on the plinth of a large granite lion, which is situated on the further side of the mountain, and marks the boundary of Old Castile; beyond this lion the province of New Castile commences. We took a fancy to cull a delicious red flower, whose botanical name I do not know, and which was growing in the fissures of the mountain. This necessitated our clambering up on a rock, which is said to be the place where Philip II. used to sit to see how the works of the Escurial were advancing. Either the tradition is apocryphal, or Philip II. must have possessed most astoundingly good eyes. The coach, which had been toiling up the precipitous steeps, at last rejoined us once more. The oxen were unyoked, and we descended the declivity in a gallop. We stopped to dine at Guadarrama, a little village crouched at the foot of the mountain. The only ornament of which it can boast is a granite fountain, erected by Philip II. At this place, by a strange reversion of the natural order of dinners, goats' milk soup was served up as dessert.