To Spain 289

when her horse stumbled. Martin having dispossessed the guide
of his horse, the procession advanced in this wise: Johanna with
her man sitting behind, then ourselves, body guarded by Martin,
then one of the men hanging on to a horse's tail, then the baggage
horses with the guide and the other driver on his back. For an
hour and a half the party proceeded in silence. At length the rock
did come nearer and nearer and finally we entered a village outskirted
 by dirt and dirty water. What noise we made on the rough
cobbles of the village street! After an interminable amount of
street, we descended to walk to our posada—the gates of Gibraltar
being closed we could not enter that fatal city till morning. Arrived
 at the posada the landlady told us she had no room and
knew not where we could get any. Perhaps in some private houses
beds could be found!! Disappointed we turned our steps to the
only other posada in Linea. We entered by a large door into a
large hall with cobble stone pavement. Men were seated at table
playing, drinking, smoking; round the sides of the room were
heaped paniers, pack saddles, saddle bags and other accoutrements
for men and donkeys. Here the landlord welcomed us in English
 and showed us up to our rooms; one for Martin inside another
 man's room, one for Johanna belonging to the doctor, and
one for us with three beds in it. To obtain possession of our rooms
three men who were playing cards, drinking and smoking at the
table had to be turned out. We did not mind ashes and smells
left behind, all we asked for was clean sheets and something to
eat. While waiting dinner we made up our beds. A chicken was
slaughtered for the occasion. The meal was served in Peg's room,
and the debris left standing on the table all night.

Dec. 15th. All washed from water in one carafe. Breakfast
served on ruins of the previous night. Mass in a little church;
blue vestments. We and THE guides with baggage took
carriage for Gibraltar, we walked toward the fatal rock. From
Linea over the neutral ground, through the gates and up the street
to the Royal Hotel where our guide was waiting to welcome (?)
us. We found that a boat, the Verite, left at once for Tangiers.
Rushing to the Public Baths we laved our persons, then partook
of a maigre and meager lunch and made a dive for the little ship
which was to put us on board the steamer No. 62. Confidingly
we entered the wee craft, the sail was put up, and we bore toward
the vessel, up, up, down, down, splash and tumble, now in the