over the country, and it would not therefore have done to let them get it into their heads we were making military surveys. Only on one occasion did a guarda come up to one careless young officer taking an angle with his prismatic, but a good cigar and a few polite words in Spanish put the matter right. As there were two rivers, both excellent for teaching survey work, we could not have had better ground: the field officer, however, detailed as a president of a board of examination for the class, declined to go into Spain without a written authority from the Spanish general. This of course could not even be asked for, but it occurred to me that there could be no objection to asking the authorities in Morocco for the requisite permission. The governor, Sir Fenwick Williams, wrote to Sir John Hay, our consul-general at Tangier, who at once got authority from the Moorish governor at Tangier, who gave me permission to take my class wherever I thought it necessary; but if possible we were to avoid going near villages, as the inhabitants might think our measurements had something to do with taxing the land.

On arrival at Tangier we paid our respects to Sir John Hay, who decided that before we commenced work we ought to have some amusement in the shape of a boar-hunt or rather shoot. I happened to be given the place of honour on some rocks near Cape Spartel the view away across to Trafalgar Bay was very fine, and what with admiration of the view and thoughts of the work I intended for my class, I quite forgot about the boars until, turning my eyes inland, I saw in the bush close to me a very nervouslooking little pig. I tried to remember if we had

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lately passed any village where pigs were kept, as I could not imagine how the little beast had got so far away from a sty, when it flashed upon me that we were amongst Mohammedans, who did not keep pigs, and this must consequently be one of the monsters whose gigantic dimensions existed only in Arab imaginations. I made a clutch at my gun lying on the rock; in an instant piggie was into the bush like a rabbit. My snap-shot was useless, and apparently also the rolling fire from Europeans and Arabs, as the poor bewildered animal raced past and got away. It was some time before my "tame pig" was forgotten. Two pigs were shot, one being by an officer of my class, and we found properly cooked wild boar by no means bad eating: it had a curious gamey flavour. I finished up the surveying course with a mounted road sketch-very well done by most of the class to Tetuan. When there I heard there was a trout-stream in the hills at the back of the town: an Arab guided me to it, but being in heavy flood I got nothing, even when trying with a worm; but three beautiful trout, about lb. each, were subsequently sent to me. They were put in spirit and sent home to Buckland, who was much pleased at the trout-line being brought so far south: he had no idea there were any trout in Morocco.

I may here mention one special recommendation of Tangier, it is an excellent place for keeping servants in order. Our cook was much too fond of liquor-so much so that, as a last resource, I said he must go to prison. They sent down to me to know what punishment was to be administered. My answer must have been misinterpreted. A short time afterwards a woman came shrieking into the

garden, and our interpreter explained it was the cook's wife, and that her husband was about to have his head cut off. I immediately pointed out there must be some mistake. The man was brought back with his head still on his shoulders, and he kept sober during the rest of the time we were at Tangier.

CHAPTER XIII.

PYRENEES.

IN 1874 unfortunate Spain was still undergoing the miseries of civil war, the Carlists besieging Bilbao, which was holding out for the Government, whose forces attempted its relief on the 26th March, but were defeated with a loss of some 2000 at Somorrostro, a position held by the Carlists across the main north coast road about twelve miles west from Bilbao.

The capture of Bilbao would have been of such immense political importance to the Carlists that the Spanish Government decided to do its utmost to raise the siege, and for this purpose organised a fresh Corps d'Armée under General Concha to assist the Spanish commander-in-chief, the Duc de la Torre, then in front of Somorrostro. When a foreign army is on active service it is usual to have an officer of our service with it as military attaché to report on the operations. I heard there was no English officer with the Spanish army, and as I was then entitled to some leave, thought I could not spend it to better advantage than by being present with the Spanish army which was about to undertake the relief of Bilbao. Not only would I be able to send a report to our Intelligence Department, but I should per

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sonally be in a position to pick up useful information in mountain warfare in the Pyrenees. At this time, early in April, Mr Layard, our Minister at Madrid, was on a visit to the governor: both concurred with my ideas on the subject. A companion who could speak Spanish was necessary, and fortunately my great friend, Captain Gilbard, now gone to his rest, was as keen on the adventure as I was; so having got the necessary leave and letters of introduction from Mr Layard to the Spanish commander-in-chief and other officers, Gilbard and I packed our small kits in two hand bags, and next morning started for Malaga in the gunboat which was returning with our Minister.

We had to remain at Malaga for the night, but next morning, the 7th April, at 7 A.M., got the Madrid express, and arrived at the capital in exactly twentyfour hours. One special curiosity we noticed, who put in an appearance at the dining refreshment-room at Cordova and another place during the night-viz., an individual with a belt full of long Spanish knives, which he was most anxious for us to purchase, his special recommendation being that they were good for sticking as well as cutting. Doubtless he had been informed we were going north on some desperate enterprise for the good of Spain.

Madrid, where we had to remain twelve hours waiting for the through train to Santander, seemed to us an uninteresting modern city, with no special attractions but the armoury and picture gallery. The armoury was not open, but we were able to visit the national picture-gallery; and it was indeed well worth the two hours, which was all we could spare for it. The Murillos will long live in memory; would that