more than we merited. Perhaps the facade of the college and that of the
neighboring Church of San Pablo may be elsewhere surpassed in the sort
of sumptuous delicacy of that Gothic which gets its name of plateresque
from the silversmithing spirit of its designs; but I doubt it. The
wonderfulness of it is that it is not mechanical or monotonous like the
stucco fretting of the Moorish decoration which people rave over in
Spain, but has a strength in its refinement which comes from its
expression in the exquisitely carven marble. When this is grayed with
age it is indeed of the effect of old silver work; but the plateresque
in Valladolid does not suggest fragility or triviality; its grace is
perhaps rather feminine than masculine; but at the worst it is only the
ultimation of the decorative genius of the Gothic. It is, at any rate,
the finest surprise which the local architecture has to offer and it
leaves one wishing for more rather than less of it, so that after the
facade of San Gregorio one is glad of it again in the walls of the
_patio,_ whose staircases and galleries, with the painted wooden beams
of their ceilings, scarcely tempt the eye from it.

We thought the front of San Pablo deserved a second visit, and we were
rewarded by finding it far lovelier than we thought. The church was
open, and when we went in we had the advantage of seeing a large
silver-gilt car moved from the high altar down the nave to a side altar
next the door, probably for use in some public procession. The tongue
of the car was pulled by a man with one leg; a half-grown boy under the
body of it hoisted it on his back and eased it along; and a monk with
his white robe tucked up into his girdle pushed it powerfully from
behind. I did not make out why so strange a team should have been
employed for the work, but the spectacle of that quaint progress was
unique among my experiences at Valladolid and of a value which I wish I
could make the reader feel with me. We ourselves were so interested in