we have strayed rather far from our description of the houses; let us resume it without further delay. The small quantity of furniture found in Spanish houses offers a specimen of the most frightful bad taste, and reminds you of the _Goût Messidor_ and _Goût Pyramide_. The forms that were popular under the Empire still flourish in all their integrity, and you once more meet mahogany pilasters terminated by sphinxes' heads of green bronze, as well as the brass rods and frame of garlands in the style of Pompeii; all which objects have long since disappeared from the face of the civilized world. There is not a single piece of furniture of carved wood, not a single table inlaid with burgau, not a single Japan cabinet--in a word, there is nothing. The Spain of former days has completely passed away; all that remains of it are a few pieces of Persian carpeting and some damask curtains. On the other hand, however, there is a most extraordinary profusion of straw chairs and sofas. The walls are disfigured with false columns and false cornices, or daubed over with some kind of tint or other which resembles water-colours. On the tables and the _étagères_ are arranged little biscuit-china or porcelain figures, representing troubadours, Mathilda and Malek Adel, and a variety of other subjects equally ingenious, but long since gone out of fashion: there are also poodle dogs blown in glass, plated candlesticks with tapers stuck in them, and a hundred other magnificent things, which would take me too long to describe; what I have already said will perhaps be thought sufficient. I have not the courage to dwell on the atrocious coloured prints, which are hung on the walls under the absurd pretence that they adorn them. There are perhaps some exceptions to this state of things, but they are rare. Do not run away with the notion that the houses of the higher classes are furnished with more taste and richness. My description is most scrupulously exact, and holds good of the houses of persons keeping their carriage, and six or eight servants. The blinds are always drawn down and the shutters half closed, so that the light which reigns in the apartments is about a third only of that outside. A person must become accustomed to this darkness before he can discern the different objects, especially if he comes from the street. Those who are in the room see perfectly, but those who enter it are blind for eight or ten minutes, especially if one of the rooms they have to traverse is lighted up, which is often the case.