"This Village," Said My Guide,
"Is Called Los Angeles, Because Its Church Was Built Long Since By
The Angels; They Placed A Beam Of Gold Beneath It, Which They
Brought Down From Heaven, And Which Was Once A Rafter Of God's Own
House.
It runs all the way under the ground from hence to the
cathedral of Compostella."
Passing through the village, which he likewise informed me
possessed baths, and was much visited by the people of Santiago, we
shaped our course to the north-west, and by so doing doubled a
mountain which rose majestically over our heads, its top crowned
with bare and broken rocks, whilst on our right, on the other side
of a spacious valley, was a high range, connected with the
mountains to the northward of Saint James. On the summit of this
range rose high embattled towers, which my guide informed me were
those of Altamira, an ancient and ruined castle, formerly the
principal residence in this province of the counts of that name.
Turning now due west, we were soon at the bottom of a steep and
rugged pass, which led to more elevated regions. The ascent cost
us nearly half an hour, and the difficulties of the ground were
such, that I more than once congratulated myself on having left my
own horses behind, and being mounted on the gallant little pony
which, accustomed to such paths, scrambled bravely forward, and
eventually brought us in safety to the top of the ascent.
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