I Heard two horrid stories at Granada, which I would not repeat except that I feel some of their truth. We were walking in the town one day, and observing an unusual air of stir and excitement, asked a stander-by what it meant.

The person in question told us that a certain Señor, Don So-and-so, had just died, and that as he was a great enemy to the Liberal party, and a great tyrant, there was rejoicing among the people. We were interested in the matter, and talked of it afterwards to an old Granadino, whose acquaintance we had made during our stay, and he more than confirmed the report.

“He was a bad man,” he said, “but of the sangre azul (blue blood), a thorough aristocrat, and very powerful. I could tell you stories of what he did that you would not believe. Oh! the people who have blue blood in their veins can do anything in Spain, I assure you. It is a cosa de España. Now just listen to a thing this Señor Don L____ did not more than nine years ago. A poor honest man known to me, was taken up accused of committing a theft. He belonged to the Liberal party, and was hated by the blue blood. Well, this man, who is just dead, had him brought into the Plaza de Toos, and tied him up to one of the posts by the hands. ‘Did you or did you not commit this theft?’ he asked. 'Señor, I know nothing of it. I am as innocent as a child.’”