The Friars, who at a little distance had observed me, as soon as I was gone, came up and read what I had writ; reporting which to the Provincial, he order’d them to be writ over in Letters of Gold, and plac’d just as I had put ’em; saying, doubtless, such a fine Line you’d proceed from nothing less than Inspiration.  This secur’d me ever after his and their Esteem; the least advantage of which, was a full Liberty of their Garden for all manner of Fruit, Sallading, or whatever I pleased:  And as I said before, the Gardens were too fine not to render such a Freedom acceptable.

They often want Rain in this Country:  To supply the Defect of which, I observed in this Garden, as well as others, an Invention not unuseful.  There is a Well in the Middle of the Garden, and over that a Wheel with many Pitchers, or Buckets, one under another, which Wheel being turned round by an Ass, the Pitchers scoop up the Water on one Side, and throw it out on the other into a Trough, that by little Channels conveys it, as the Gardiner directs, into every part of the Garden.  By this Means their Flowers and their Sallading are continually refresh’d, and preserved from the otherwise over-parching Beams of the Sun.

The Inquisition, in almost every Town in Spain (and more especially, if of any great Account) has its Spies, or Informers, for treacherous Intelligence.  These make it their Business to ensnare the simple and unguarded; and are more to be avoided by the Stranger, than the Rattle Snake.  Nature have appointed no such happy Tokens in the former to foreshew the Danger.  I had Reason to believe, that one of those Vermin once made his Attack upon me in this place:  And as they are very rarely, if ever known to the Natives themselves, I being a Stranger, may be allowed to make a guess by Circumstances.

I was walking by my self, when a Person, wholly unknown to me, giving me the civil Salute of the Day, endeavour’d to draw me into Conversation.  After Questions had passed on general Heads, the fellow ensnaringly asked me, how it came to pass, that I show’d so little Respect to the Image of the crucify’d Jesus, as I pass’d by it in such a Street, naming it?  I made Answer, that I had, or ought to have him always in my Heart crucified.  To that he made no Reply:  But proceeding in his Interrogatories, question’d me next, whether I believ’d a Purgatory?  I evaded the Question, as I took it to be ensnaring; and only told him, that I should be willing to hear him offer any Thing that might convince me of the Truth, or Probability of it.  Truth?  He reply’d in a Heat:  There never yet was Man so Holy as to enter Heaven without first passing through Purgatory.  In my Opinion, said I, there will be no Difficulty in convincing a reasonable Man to the contrary.  What mean you by that, cry’d the Spy?  I mean, said I, that I can name one, and a great Sinner too, who went into Bliss without any Visit to Purgatory.  Name him, if you can, reply’d my Querist.  What think you of the Thief upon the Cross, said I? to whom our dying Saviour said, Hodie eris mecum in Paradiso.  At which being silenced tho’ not convicted, he turned from me in a violent Rage, and left me to my self.