bourers were occupied in removing to
their garners in the villages.  The country could scarcely be called
beautiful, being perfectly naked, exhibiting neither trees nor verdure.
It was not, however, without its pretensions to grandeur and
magnificence, like every part of Spain.  The most prominent objects were
two huge calcareous hills, or rather one cleft in twain, which towered up
on high; the summit of the nearest being surmounted by the ruins of an
ancient castle, that of Villaluenga.  About an hour past noon we reached
Villa Seca.

We found it a large village, containing about seven hundred inhabitants,
and surrounded by a mud wall.  A _plaza_, or market-place, stood in the
midst, one side of which is occupied by what is called a palace, a clumsy
quadrangular building of two stories, belonging to some noble family, the
lords of the neighbouring soil.  It was deserted, however; being only
occupied by a kind of steward, who stored up in its chambers the grain
which he received as rent from the tenants and _villanos_ who farmed the
surrounding district.

The village stands at the distance of about a quarter of a league from
the bank of the Tagus, which even here, in the heart of Spain, is a
beautiful stream, not navigable, however, on account of the sand-banks,
which in many places assume the appearance of small islands, and are
covered with trees and brushwood.  The village derives its supply of
water entirely from the river, having none of its own—such, at least, as
is potable—the water of its wells being all brackish, on which account it
is probably termed Villa Seca, which signifies “the dry hamlet.”  The
inhabitants are said to have been originally Moors; certain it is, that
various customs are observable here highly favourable to such a
supposition.  Amongst others, a very curious one: it is deemed infamous
for a woman of Villa Seca to go across the market-place, or to be seen
there, though they have no hesitation in showing themselves in the
streets and lanes.  A deep-rooted hostility exists betw