GUIDE.- What do I mean by the Estadea? My master asks me what I mean by the Estadinha.* I have met the Estadinha but once, and it was upon a moor something like this.I was in company with several women, and a thick haze came on, and suddenly a thousand lights shone above our heads in the haze, and there was a wild cry, and the women fell to the ground screaming Estadea! Estadea! and I myself fell to the ground crying out Estadinha! The Estadea are the spirits of the dead which ride upon the haze, bearing candles in their hands.Itell you frankly, my master, that if we meet the assembly of the souls, I shall leave you at once, and then I shall run and run till I drown myself in the sea, somewhere about Muros.We shall not reach Corcuvion this night; my only hope is that we may find some choza upon these moors, where we may hide our heads from the Estadinha.
* INHA, when affixed to words, serves as a diminutive.
It is much in use amongst the Gallegans.
The night overtook us ere we had traversed the moor;there was, however, no haze, to the great joy of my guide, and a corner of the moon partially illumined our steps.Our situation, however, was dreary enough: we were upon the wildest heath of the wildest province of Spain, ignorant of our way, and directing our course we scarcely knew whither, for my guide repeatedly declared to me, that he did not believe that such a place as Finisterra existed, or if it did exist, it was some bleak mountain pointed out in a map.When I reflected on the character of this guide, I derived but little comfort or encouragement: he was at best evidently half witted, and was by his own confession occasionally seized with paroxysms which differed from madness in no essential respect; his wild escapade in the morning of nearly three leagues, without any apparent cause, and lastly his superstitious and frantic fears of meeting the souls of the dead upon this heath, in which event he intended, as he himself said, to desert me and make for the sea, operated rather powerfully upon my nerves.Ilikewise considered that it was quite possible that we might be in the route neither of Finisterra nor Corcuvion, and Itherefore determined to enter the first cabin at which we should arrive, in preference to running the risk of breaking our necks by tumbling down some pit or precipice.No cabin, however, appeared in sight: the moor seemed interminable, and we wandered on until the moon disappeared, and we were left in almost total darkness.
At length we arrived at the foot of a steep ascent, up which a rough and broken pathway appeared to lead.
"Can this be our way?" said I to the guide.
"There appears to be no other for us, captain," replied the man; "let us ascend it by all means, and when we are it the top, if the sea be in the neighbourhood we shall see it."I then dismounted, for to ride up such a pass in such darkness would have been madness.We clambered up in a line, first the guide, next the pony, with his nose as usual on his master's shoulder, of whom he seemed passionately fond, and Ibringing up the rear, with my left hand grasping the animal's tail.We had many a stumble, and more than one fall: once, indeed, we were all rolling down the side of the hill together.
In about twenty minutes we reached the summit, and looked around us, but no sea was visible: a black moor, indistinctly seen, seemed to spread on every side.
"We shall have to take up our quarters here till morning," said I.
