Albuquerque, one of the loftiest of Estremadura.

We now got into a cultivated country, and following the road, which
wound amongst hedgerows, we arrived at a place where the ground
began gradually to shelve down. Here, on the right, was the
commencement of an aqueduct by means of which the town on the
opposite hill was supplied; it was at this point scarcely two feet
in altitude, but, as we descended, it became higher and higher, and
its proportions more colossal. Near the bottom of the valley it
took a turn to the left, bestriding the road with one of its
arches. I looked up, after passing under it; the water must have
been flowing near a hundred feet above my head, and I was filled
with wonder at the immensity of the structure which conveyed it.
There was, however, one feature which was no slight drawback to its
pretensions to grandeur and magnificence; the water was supported
not by gigantic single arches, like those of the aqueduct of
Lisbon, which stalk over the valley like legs of Titans, but by
three layers of arches, which, like three distinct aqueducts, rise
above each other. The expense and labour necessary for the
erection of such a structure must have been enormous; and, when we
reflect with what comparative ease modern art would confer the same
advantage, we cannot help congratulating ourselves that we live in
times when it is not necessary to exhaust the wealth of a province
to supply a town on a hill with one of the first necessaries of
existence.



CHAPTER VIII