a _patio_ became a _pat',_ and an old master an old mast'; and an
endearing quality was imparted to the grim memory of Philip II. by the
diminutive of Philly. We accepted this, but even to have Charles V.
brought nearer our hearts as Charley Fif, we could not bear to have our
guide exposed to the mockery of less considerate travelers. I instructed
him that the emperor's name was Charles, and that only boys and very
familiar friends of that name were called Charley among us. He thanked
me, and at once spoke again of Charley Fif; which I afterward found was
the universally accepted style of the great emperor among the guides of
Spain. In vain I tried to persuade them out of it at Cordova, at
Seville, at Granada, and wherever else they had to speak of an emperor
whose memory really seems to pervade the whole land.




II


The genuine village of Escorial lies mostly to the left of the station,
but the artificial town which grew up with the palace is to the right.
Both are called after the slag of the iron-smelting works which were and
are the vital industry of the first Escorial; but the road to the palace
takes you far from the slag, with a much-hoteled and garden-walled
dignity, to the plateau, apparently not altogether natural, where the
massive triune edifice stands in the keeping of a throng of American
women wondering how they are going to see it, and lunch, and get back to
their train in time. Many were trying, the day of our visit, to see the
place with no help but that of their bewildering Baedekers, and we had
constant reason to be glad of our guide as we met or passed them in the