The oldest sailors on board acknowledged that they had never witnessed so providential an escape.I said, from the bottom of my heart, "Our Father - hallowed be thy name."The next day we were near foundering, for the sea was exceedingly high, and our vessel, which was not intended for sailing, laboured terribly, and leaked much.The pumps were continually working.She likewise took fire, but the flames were extinguished.In the evening the steam-engine was partially repaired, and we reached Lisbon on the thirteenth, where in a few days we completed our repairs.
I found my excellent friend W- in good health.During my absence he had been doing everything in his power to further the sale of the sacred volume in Portuguese: his zeal and devotedness were quite admirable.The distracted state of the country, however, during the last six months, had sadly impeded his efforts.The minds of the people had been so engrossed with politics, that they found scarcely any time to think of the welfare of their souls.The political history of Portugal had of late afforded a striking parallel to that of the neighbouring country.In both a struggle for supremacy had arisen between the court and the democratic party; in both the latter had triumphed, whilst two distinguished individuals had fallen a sacrifice to the popular fury - Freire in Portugal, and Quesada in Spain.The news which reached me at Lisbon from the latter country was rather startling.The hordes of Gomez were ravaging Andalusia, which I was about to visit on my way to Madrid; Cordova had been sacked and abandoned after a three days' occupation by the Carlists.I was told that if Ipersisted in my attempt to enter Spain in the direction which Iproposed, I should probably fall into their hands at Seville.
I had, however, no fears, and had full confidence that the Lord would open the path before me to Madrid.
The vessel being repaired, we again embarked, and in two days arrived in safety at Cadiz.I found great confusion reigning there; numerous bands of the factious were reported to be hovering in the neighbourhood.An attack was not deemed improbable, and the place had just been declared in a state of siege.I took up my abode at the French hotel in the Calle de la Niveria, and was allotted a species of cockloft, or garret, to sleep in, for the house was filled with guests, being a place of much resort, on account of the excellent table d'hote which is kept there.I dressed myself and walked about the town.I entered several coffee-houses: the din of tongues in all was deafening.In one no less than six orators were haranguing at the same time on the state of the country, and the probability of an intervention on the part of England and France.As I was listening to one of them, he suddenly called upon me for my opinion, as I was a foreigner, and seemingly just arrived.I replied that I could not venture to guess what steps the two governments would pursue under the present circumstances, but thought that it would be as well if the Spaniards would exert themselves more and call less on Jupiter.
As I did not wish to engage in any political conversation, Iinstantly quitted the house, and sought those parts of the town where the lower classes principally reside.
I entered into discourse with several individuals, but found them very ignorant; none could read or write, and their ideas respecting religion were anything but satisfactory, -most professing a perfect indifference.I afterwards went into a bookseller's shop and made inquiries respecting the demand for literature, which, he informed me, was small.I produced a London edition of the New Testament in Spanish, and asked the bookseller whether he thought a book of that description would sell in Cadiz.He said that both the type and paper were exceedingly beautiful, but that it was a work not sought after, and very little known.I did not pursue my inquiries in other shops, for I reflected that I was not likely to receive a very favourable opinion from booksellers respecting a publication in which they had no interest.I had, moreover, but two or three copies of the New Testament with me, and could not have supplied them had they even given me an order.
Early on the twenty-fourth, I embarked for Seville in the small Spanish steamer the BETIS: the morning was wet, and the aspect of nature was enveloped in a dense mist, which prevented my observing surrounding objects.After proceeding about six leagues, we reached the north-eastern extremity of the Bay of Cadiz, and passed by Saint Lucar, an ancient town near to the spot where the Guadalquivir disembogues itself.The mist suddenly disappeared, and the sun of Spain burst forth in full brilliancy, enlivening all around, and particularly myself, who had till then been lying on the deck in a dull melancholy stupor.We entered the mouth of "The Great River," for that is the English translation of Oued al Kiber, as the Moors designated the ancient Betis.We came to anchor for a few minutes at a little village called Bonanca, at the extremity of the first reach of the river, where we received several passengers, and again proceeded.There is not much in the appearance of the Guadalquivir to interest the traveller: the banks are low and destitute of trees, the adjacent country is flat, and only in the distance is seen a range of tall blue sierras.The water is turbid and muddy, and in colour closely resembling the contents of a duck-pool; the average width of the stream is from a hundred and fifty to two hundred yards, but it is impossible to move along this river without remembering that it has borne the Roman, the Vandal, and the Arab, and has been the witness of deeds which have resounded through the world and been the themes of immortal songs.Irepeated Latin verses and fragments of old Spanish ballads till we reached Seville, at about nine o'clock of a lovely moonlight night.
