tranquillity; her own guards were disaffected, and more inclined to the principles of the constitution of 1823 than to those of absolute monarchy, which the moderados were attempting to revive again in the government of Spain.  Early one morning, a party of these soldiers, headed by a certain Sergeant Garcia, entered her apartment, and proposed that she should subscribe her hand to this constitution, and swear solemnly to abide by it.  Christina, however, who was a woman of considerable spirit, refused to comply with this proposal, and ordered them to withdraw.  A scene of violence and tumult ensued, but the regent still continuing firm, the soldiers at length led her down to one of the courts of the palace, where stood her well-known paramour, Munos, bound and blindfolded.  “Swear to the constitution, you she-rogue,” vociferated the swarthy sergeant.  “Never!” said the spirited daughter of the Neapolitan Bourbons.  “Then your cortejo shall die!” replied the sergeant.  “Ho! ho! my lads; get ready your arms, and send four bullets through the fellow’s brain.”  Munos was forthwith led to the wall, and compelled to kneel down, the soldiers levelled their muskets and another moment would have consigned the unfortunate wight to eternity, when Christina, forgetting everything but the feelings of her woman’s heart, suddenly started forward with a shriek, exclaiming:  “Hold, hold!  I sign, I sign!”

The day after this event I entered the Puerta del Sol at about noon.  There is always a crowd there about this hour, but it is generally a very quiet motionless crowd, consisting of listless idlers calmly smoking their cigars, or listening to or retailing the—­in general—­very dull news of the capital; but on the day of which I am speaking the mass was no longer inert.  There was much gesticulation and vociferation, and several people were running about shouting, “Viva la constitucion!”—­a cry which, a few days previously, would have been visited on the utterer with death, the city having for some weeks past been subjected to the rigour of martial law.  I occasionally heard the words, “La Granja!  La Granja!” Which words were sure to be succeeded by the shout of “Viva la constitucion!” Opposite the Casa de Postas were drawn up in a line about a dozen mounted dragoons, some of whom were continually waving their caps in the air and joining the common cry, in which they were encouraged by their commander, a handsome young officer, who flourished his sword, and more than once cried out with great glee, “Long live the constitutional queen!  Long live the constitution!”

The crowd was rapidly increasing, and several nationals made their appearance in their uniforms, but without their arms, of which they had been deprived, as I have already stated.  “What has become of the moderado government?” said I to Baltasar, whom I suddenly observed amongst the crowd, dressed as when I had first seen him, in his old regimental great coat and foraging cap; “have the ministers been deposed and others put in their place?”