From the Pyrenees to the Pillars of Hercules. By Henry
Day. (New York, Putnam's Sons.)—Mr. Day does not pretend to have made any discoveries in the course of his scamper through Spain, or to be anything more than one of those open-eyed, much-travelled, and thoroughly candid Americans whom one is perpetually jostling against on the Continent. He merely gives his own impressions of everything he saw and everybody he came across, from the Alhambra to the Rock of Gibraltar, and from the grave of Philip to the living politician whom he styles "Mr." Castelar. "' Mr. Castelar," says Mr. Day, "is a short, thiok-set, florid man ; a very genial face, but not strong ; no marked characteristics about him; a, man no one would remark in the street. He is an orator, but no debater. He has no repartee, no ability to turn the thrust. He gets confused, and perhaps confounded He is a bachelor, and lives in a pleasant part of Madrid, in a most unpretending way, on the third story of a flat, with his sister." Mr. Day's book is fall of chat of this kind, and is on that account enjoyable reading. His historical narratives are, however, rather scrappy.
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