with his bag of swords under his arm, leaps on the box, the whip cracks, the horses jangle their bells and break into a gallop. A number of urchins, never absent on this occasion, dive feverishly after the vehicle and spring upon the step, the toreros goodnaturedly ignoring them. The serried ranks begin to part in all directions, some on tram cars, some in carriages or cabs, a few on horseback, the greater part afoot. All are quieter by far than when they came. The animation of even the Spaniards is not perpetual. Or perhaps they are disappointed that there is nothing more to see. The fight has been a good one, but alas, until next Sunday, it is over.

IN the preceding chapter I attempted a plain relation of a corrida from start to finish. In order, however, to avoid confusion, I found it unavoidable to omit a

quantity of matter more or less impertinent to the narrative proper, and yet which has to do with bullfighting. Who breeds the bulls, and where? How are they brought to the ring? What are they worth? What is the price of a corrida, or of the services of the matadores and their helpers? Many such queries must occur to the curious, and I hope the following data will answer them at least in part, before I sketch the origin and growth of Spain's most ancient and severe recreation.

By far the greater number of the toros bravos, or fighting-bulls, are Andalusian, the property of one or other of various breeders (ganaderos), who are invariably men of wealth, and sometimes of title. Among the names of noble ganaderos, past or actual, are those of the Marquises of Gaviria, la Conquista, Salas, Sales, Gandul, Villamarta, los Castellones, Saltillo, Ruchena, Medina, Castrojuanillos, and Villavelviestre, the Counts of Patilla and Vistahermosa, and the Dukes of San Lorenzo, Osuna, and Veragua. Ladies, too, commonly by inheriting the

cattle from their husbands, are and have been ganaderos, or I suppose I should say ganaderas-the Duchess of Santoña, the Marchioness of Saltillo, Doña Carmen López, Doña Dolores Zembrano, Doña Celsa Fontfrede, Doña Cecilia Montoya, Doña Carlota Sánchez, and others. And curiously enough three priests have figured in the professionDon Diego Hidalgo Barquero, Don Francisco Mendoza, and Don Antero López. The latter, indeed, went so far as to brand his bulls with a priest's cap or bonnet, for which reason the breed was known as the Bonetillo.

As I have said, the majority of the ganado comes from Andalusia, particularly the neighbourhood of Jerez, Seville, and Huelva, in whose whereabouts live the best-known ganaderos, excepting the Duke of Veragua. This nobleman, the direct descendant of Columbus-bearing, in fact, the very name of Cristóbal Colón-is the possessor of one of the oldest and most famous breeds of fighting cattle, though his bulls appear to be deteriorating rapidly. Their pasturage is at Colmenar la Vieja, not far from Madrid. The Andalusian cattle graze upon the plains or dehesas of San Juan de las Cabezas, and other of those thinly-populated districts.

Every year the ganadero holds his tienta, or trial of the fighting qualities of the calves, a ceremony which is intended to weed the bad becerros from the good, these to be fought throughout the plazas of the country, the faulty ones to be sold for killing or agriculture. An intermediate class are those which are fought under the name of novillos by secondrate matadores or novilleros, and not in the corridas

formales, but at novilladas. These novillos belong to the desecho de tienta, the "rejected in the proof," but it is not unusual for them to make a very respectable fight, notwithstanding. The tienta can be performed in more ways than one, but as a rule the young animals are driven singly into a yard where a horseman, preferably a picador, aided by a helper afoot with a capote, offers at them with a lance tipped with a very small goad, and considerably shorter than the garrochas employed in the ring proper. If the bull dashes at the horse, ignores the pain of the goad, and returns with spirit to the charge, he will do, and is promoted to the aprobados, or selected candidates. The heifers are also tested, since the mettle of the dam must narrowly concern her offspring, and the semental or stud-bull is sure to be a stately and expensive beast of noble presence and proven lineage.

It is a matter of impossibility to determine which is the best ganadería. The best are many. Each has its record of doughty achievements, and spares no effort or expense to keep abreast of its rivals. The leading cattle at the present day are those of Cámara, Miura, Muruve, Pérez de la Concha, Conradi, Adalid, Ibarra, Saltillo, and Anastasio Martín. All of these are Andalusian. Among Castilian cattle the Duke of Veragua's are becoming steadily worse and worse, but Don Estéban Hernández, also a vecino of Madrid, is able, at a pinch, to produce an excellent corrida.

The ganadero sells his beasts a corrida at a time, the usual number being consequently four, or six, or eight, and the price per head, in the case of the

choicest cattle, ranging from four to six hundred. dollars, or between sixty and one hundred pounds sterling. The conveyance of the bulls to their destination is no easy matter. Where the distance is comparatively short, as from one point of Andalusia to another, they are driven through the unfrequented parts of the country gathered in a little herd, pasturing by day and proceeding by night, surrounded by the cabestros, or tame, trained cattle with bells round their necks. These intelligent beasts keep the wild ones together and out of mischief with the same unerring watchfulness as a collie controlling a flock of sheep, and lightening to an incalculable extent the labours of the accompanying horsemen.

The entry into the town or village is made by night, the sides of the roads in the vicinity of the bull-ring being strongly barricaded, and the compact herd, headed by two riders careering one after the other, is driven at full gallop plump into the corrales of the plaza. If a moon be shining, the spectacle, viewed from the windows overlooking the corral, is indescribably picturesque and eerie; nor am I aware of any detail of Spanish life so intensely singular and original as these Andalusian encierros, such as I have witnessed, times without number, at Linea de la Concepción and elsewhere. The safe side of the barricade is packed with eager aficionados, straining their eyes and ears and speaking in a whisper; the rest of the población (imagine it to be half-past one of the morning) is profoundly silent, until the barking of dogs, suddenly impinging on the nighttime air, announces that the corrida is approaching.