{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_31481/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_31481","id":"gutenberg_31481","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/31481","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","Children's stories, Portuguese","Children's stories, Spanish","Fairy tales","Folklore -- Portugal","Folklore -- Spain","Tales -- Portugal","Tales -- Spain"],"text":"Produced by Irma Spehar, Markus Brenner and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nfile was produced from images generously made available\nby The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                 tales\n                           from the lands of\n                            nuts and grapes\n\n                   (SPANISH AND PORTUGUESE FOLKLORE)\n\n\n                                  BY\n                           CHARLES SELLERS.\n\n\n                                 1888.\n\n                                LONDON:\n\n              _Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C._\n\n           _Simpkin, Marshall & Co.; Hamilton, Adams & Co._\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nI firmly believe that the following tales have never seen the light of\npublicity. They are the folklore of Spain and Portugal.\n\nSince the day when Hernando del Castillo, in 1511, published some of the\nromances of Spanish chivalry collected from the people, various works\nhave appeared at different times, adding to the already rich store from\nthat inexhaustible mine of song and story.\n\nBut, unfortunately for those who appreciate originality in a people, it\nwas discovered that Boccaccio had been most unceremoniously plagiarized,\nand, what was still worse, that his defects had not been avoided.\n\nThe \u201cDecameron\u201d has, in fact, been the foundation of the majority of the\nromances attributed to the natives of the Peninsula when, as has too\noften been the case, they have in their songs of chivalry overstepped\nthe limits imposed by decorum.\n\nBut this does not argue that the Spaniards and Portuguese have no poetry\nand no folklore of their own, but rather that the latter have been\nignored by the compilers of such literature, in order to satisfy the\ncravings of the unfortunately too many admirers, even in this day, of\nthat which would have been of advantage to the world at large had it\nnever been imagined.\n\nIn England the tale of \u201cJack the Giant Killer\u201d is read with avidity by\nall young people, for it is a purely national tale; but in Spain and\nPortugal such simple tales very seldom find a publisher, and children,\nand even their elders have to content themselves with hearing them\nrecited by those who enliven the long wintry nights with such lore as I\nhave attempted to reproduce from my memory, told me in my youth in the\nbosom of those two sister lands which produced the Cid Campeador and the\nGran Vasco da Gama.\n\nAnd, before closing this preface, I would remark that the North of\nPortugal, where I was born and bred, is richer in folklore than the rest\nof the kingdom, especially in tales about enchanted Moors and warlocks,\nof whom I, in common with the Portuguese, say, \u201cAbernuncio.\u201d\n\n                                                 C. SELLERS.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n                                                        PAGE\n\n  THE INGENIOUS STUDENT                                    1\n\n  THE UGLY PRINCESS                                        9\n\n  THE WOLF-CHILD                                          17\n\n  THE MAGIC MIRROR                                        26\n\n  THE BLACK SLAVE                                         34\n\n  A LEGEND OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW                             46\n\n  THE WHITE CAT OF ECIJA                                  59\n\n  THE CHURCH AUCTIONEER AND CLOWN OF VILLAR               66\n\n  THE WISE KING OF LEON                                   79\n\n  THE COBBLER OF BURGOS                                   85\n\n  BARBARA, THE GRAZIER\u2019S WIFE                             92\n\n  THE WATCHFUL SERVANT                                    99\n\n  SILVER BELLS                                           105\n\n  KING ROBIN                                             112\n\n  THE WICKED KING                                        117\n\n  THE PALACE OF THE ENCHANTED MOORS                      122\n\n  THE SEVEN PIGEONS                                      133\n\n  LADY CLARE                                             150\n\n  GOOD ST. JAMES, AND THE MERRY BARBER OF COMPOSTELLA    154\n\n  ELVIRA, THE SAINTED PRINCESS                           165\n\n  THE ENCHANTED MULE                                     170\n\n\n\n\nTALES FROM THE LANDS OF NUTS AND GRAPES.\n\n\n\n\nTHE INGENIOUS STUDENT.\n\n\nThere was once a student in Tuy who was so very poor that, if faith in\nProvidence be not reckoned, he possessed no riches.\n\nBut Juan Rivas was endowed with a wonderfully fine gift of ingenuity,\nand although he was somewhat behind in the payment for the Masses on\nbehalf of his predecessors, and even more so with his mundane creditors,\nstill was he a man who meant well and would do the right thing if he\nonly had the opportunity.\n\nTo the man of the world there is no greater pleasure than to pay his\ndebts, for by so doing he increases his credit.\n\nJuan Rivas would willingly have paid every creditor had his pocket been\nas full of the wherewithal as his heart was of gratitude for small\nmercies; but there is no difficulty about showing one\u2019s self desirous of\nsatisfying one\u2019s debts\u2014the only difficulty generally rests in being\nable to do so.\n\nAt college he had proved himself a good scholar and a true companion;\nbut as he could no longer contribute toward the support of his college,\nhis college could not be expected to support him.\n\nHis long black cap, his flowing robes, his pantaloons, and his shoes\nwere altered in substance, and so was Juan Rivas.\n\nFinally he became reduced to his last maravedi, and as his friends could\nno longer assist him, he thought it was high time he should assist\nhimself.\n\n\u201cProvidence,\u201d said he, \u201chas never intended me for a poor man, but Fate\nhas almost made me one. I will believe in Providence, and become rich\nfrom this day.\u201d Saying which, he went to some of his companions, who\nwere almost as poor as he was, and asked them if they desired to be\nrich.\n\n\u201cDo you ask us if we want to be rich with so serious a face?\u201d answered\nthey. \u201cReally, friend Juan, you are so strange that you do not seem to\nbelong to this city!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo man can be rich,\u201d continued Juan, \u201cby staying at home. We are\nstudents, and our studies should meet with some recompense. Will you do\nas I bid you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes!\u201d cried all his poor companions; \u201cso long as you lead us not to the\ngallows, for we like not such playthings.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, follow me,\u201d said Juan; \u201cand when you see me release a prize\nthat belongs to him who shall be bold enough to seize it, off with it to\nthe market, and dispose of it at the best possible price.\u201d\n\n\u201cDone, and agreed to,\u201d shouted all, \u201cif you will but seize the prize!\u201d\n\n\u201cLeave that to me,\u201d said the poor student, \u201cand I will hand you a prize\nfully worth twenty dollars without his garments.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, surely, you are not going to hand some man or woman over to us?\u201d\ninquired they.\n\n\u201cAsk me no questions, as the Archbishop of Compostella said to the\npretty widow, and I will be honest with you. The prize I shall hand you\nwill fetch money in the market, and we sell not human beings in this\ncountry,\u201d urged Juan.\n\n\u201cThat is right,\u201d they exclaimed; \u201cand we will follow you.\u201d\n\nThe students followed Juan on to the high-road leading from the city to\nOurense; and when they had walked for about two hours\u2019 time Juan told\nhis companions to get behind the hedge and await results.\n\nSoon after, the jingling of bells was heard, and a muleteer seated\ncross-legged on a mule, which preceded five others, was seen\napproaching.\n\nAs the muleteer had sold all his wares he was indulging in a sleep, and\nhad it not been for the dog-flies that teased the mules they would also\nhave slept.\n\nJuan let the muleteer pass; but as the last mule came up he seized it,\nand, taking off its trappings, and disencumbering it of its ponderous\nalbarda, or saddle, he freed the animal on the roadside, and replaced\nthe trappings and the saddle on himself.\n\nHis companions were not slow in seizing the prize and hurrying away with\nit, while Juan Rivas continued for some distance along the road,\nfollowing in the train of mules.\n\nAs soon as he considered that his companions would be out of sight, he\ncommenced backing with all his strength, which brought the mules to a\nsudden halt and caused their bells to tinkle.\n\nThe muleteer looked back to see if anything was wrong, but, perceiving\nnothing, bestowed a hearty blow on his mule, and on he went again.\n\nThe student now began to rear and jump about so that the muleteer pulled\nup, and, having dismounted, proceeded to inquire into the cause of the\nmule so misbehaving itself; but his astonishment was great when, instead\nof a mule, he saw a human being bearing the trappings and the saddle.\n\n\u201cWhat merry freak is this,\u201d demanded the muleteer, addressing the\nstudent, \u201cthat I see you replacing my mule?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is no merry freak, indeed it is not,\u201d replied Juan Rivas, \u201cbut a sad\nreality. You see before you, good master, a poor, miserable creature,\nwho for his many offences against Mother Church was transformed into a\nmule, and sentenced to remain so for a number of years. My term of\npunishment has just expired, and I am restored to my natural form.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut where is my mule that cost me one hundred crowns not many years\nago?\u201d asked the muleteer.\n\n\u201cYou do not understand me, good master,\u201d replied the student. \u201cI was\nthe mule, and the mule was I; now I am I. When you used to kick your\nmule, you really kicked me; when you fed it, you fed me; and now, when\nyou speak to me, you speak to all that remains of your mule. Now do you\nunderstand?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am beginning to perceive,\u201d said the muleteer, scratching his head and\nlooking very sorrowful, \u201cthat for your sins you were turned into a mule,\nand that for mine, I had the misfortune to purchase you. I always\nthought there was something strange about that mule!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no doubt that we all must put up with the consequences of our\nevil ways, and, as you very properly say, you have been punished by the\nloss of your mule; but, then, you can rejoice with me, seeing that the\nson of the first Grandee in Spain served you in the humble capacity of a\nbeast of burden, and now is restored to rank and wealth.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd are you a Grandee of Spain?\u201d anxiously inquired the poor man, \u201cWhy,\nthen, your excellency will never forgive me for the many kicks I have\nbestowed on your excellency\u2019s sides; and I am a ruined man, for you will\nhave me punished.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so, kind friend; not so,\u201d replied the student, in an assuring\ntone; \u201cfor how could you tell that your mule was not a mule?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen your excellency will not be revenged on me?\u201d continued the\nmuleteer. \u201cAnd if it will be of any consolation to your excellency, I\npromise never to divulge this mystery!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will, indeed, be a great comfort to me to think that no one will\nknow what became of me for so many years,\u201d replied the student. \u201cAnd now\nI must bid you good-bye, for I am in a hurry to again embrace my dear\nparents if they be still living.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood-bye,\u201d said the muleteer, with emotion; \u201cand may your excellency\nnever again incur the displeasure of Mother Church.\u201d\n\nThus they parted good friends; the muleteer pondering over what he\ntermed the mysteries of life, and Juan Rivas full of delight at the\nthought of rejoining his companions, and having a good supper with the\nproceeds of the mule, which pleasure was not denied him and his friends.\n\nIn a fortnight\u2019s time there was a cattle fair in the neighbourhood of\nTuy, and as the muleteer required to replace the mule he had so\nmysteriously lost, he attended the fair, and was looking about him for\na serviceable mule, when an acquaintance called out to him to know why\nhe had parted with the other one.\n\n\u201cI have my private reasons,\u201d answered the muleteer, \u201cand I am not here\nto let you know them.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery true,\u201d continued his inquisitive friend; \u201cbut the proverb says\nthat \u2018the mule you know is better than the mule you don\u2019t know,\u2019 and if\nyou will take my advice, you will buy your old mule back again, for\nthere it is\u201d\u2014pointing to it.\n\nThe muleteer looked in the direction mentioned, and was horrified at\nseeing his late mule again; but, trying to conceal his emotion, he\napproached the animal and whispered in its ear, \u201cThose who don\u2019t know\nwhat sort of a mule your excellency is may buy you, but I know the mule\nyou are;\u201d and, turning away, he sorrowfully exclaimed, \u201cHe has again\noffended. Terrible are the judgments of Providence!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE UGLY PRINCESS.\n\n\nThere was once a king who had an only daughter, and she was so very ugly\nand deformed that, when she rode through the streets of Alcantara, the\nchildren ran away, thinking she was a witch.\n\nHer father, however, thought her the most lovely creature in his\nkingdom; and as all the courtiers agreed with him, and the Court poet\nwas always singing her praises, the princess had been led to believe\nwhat most ladies like to believe; and as she was expecting a prince from\na distant country, who was coming expressly to marry her, she had\nordered many rich dresses which only made her look uglier.\n\nThe city of Alcantara was ready to receive Prince Alanbam, who was going\nto espouse the Princess Altamira.\n\nCrowds thronged the streets, martial music was heard everywhere, and in\nthe public square a splendid throne had been erected for the king,\nPrincess Altamira, and Prince Alanbam.\n\nAround the throne were formed large bodies of well-equipped cavalry,\ndark visaged warriors clad in white and gold, and mounted on superb Arab\nsteeds.\n\nBehind the king, on his left side, stood the royal barber with his\nretinue of apprentices; and on his right side was seen Nab\u00f3 the\nheadsman, a nigger of gigantic stature, with his implement of office, an\naxe, over his shoulder.\n\nSeated on the steps of the throne were a number of musicians, and below\nthese a guard of honour, composed of foot soldiers dressed in short\nvests, called \u201caljubas,\u201d and wide lower garments, and with their\naljavas, or quivers, full of bright arrows.\n\nFrom the throne the king could see the splendid bridge on six pillars,\nbuilt by Trajan, along which a brilliant cavalcade was proceeding,\nnamely, the procession formed by Prince Alanbam and his retainers.\n\nAs soon as the prince, after saluting the king, beheld the princess, he\nturned pale, for he had never seen any one so ugly; and however much he\nmight have desired to keep up an appearance of courtesy to the princess\nbefore her father\u2019s subjects, he could not kiss her as she expected him\nto do, nor could he be persuaded to occupy the chair reserved for him\nbeside the princess.\n\n\u201cYour mercy,\u201d said he, addressing the king, \u201cmust excuse my insuperable\nbashfulness; but the fact is that the Princess Altamira is so\ntranscendently beautiful, and so dazzling to behold, that I can never\nexpect to look upon her face again and live.\u201d\n\nThe king and the princess were highly flattered; but as Prince Alanbam\ncontinued obdurate in his professions of bashfulness, they commenced to\nfeel somewhat vexed, and at last the king said in a loud voice\u2014\n\n\u201cPrince Alanbam, we fully appreciate the motive that prompts your\nconduct, but the fact is the Princess Altamira is present to be wedded\nto you; and, as a Christian king, the first of my line, I desire to lead\nto the altar my only daughter, Princess Altamira, and her affianced\nhusband, Prince Alanbam.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt cannot be,\u201d said the prince. \u201cI would rather marry some one less\nbeautiful. Sir king, forgive me if I annoy you, but I will not be wedded\nto so much beauty.\u201d\n\nThe king was now incensed beyond measure, and the princess his\ndaughter, thinking to spite Prince Alanbam, said\u2014\n\n\u201cWith your permission, royal father, since I am too beautiful for a\nprince, I will be married to the most learned man in your\nkingdom\u2014Bernardo, the royal barber.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that you shall,\u201d said the king; but, on turning round to speak to\nthe barber, he found that this the most learned man in his kingdom was\nall of a tremble, as if dancing to the music of St. Vitus.\n\n\u201cWhat has possessed thee, caitiff?\u201d asked the king. \u201cHearest not thou\nthe honour that is to be conferred on thee?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy royal master,\u201d muttered the poor frightened man of learning and\nlather, \u201cI can no more avail myself of the honour which you would confer\non me than the Archbishop of Villafranca could. His grace is bound to\ncelibacy, and I am already married.\u201d\n\nNow, the barber had on many occasions rendered himself obnoxious to\nSanchez, the royal cobbler, who, seeing the king\u2019s perplexity, and a\nchance of avenging past insults, exclaimed\u2014\n\n\u201cRoyal master, it would be most acceptable to your subjects that so\nmuch beauty should be wedded to so much learning. Our good friend,\nBernardo, was, it is true, married; but since he has been in attendance\nat the palace, he has so fallen in love with Princess Altamira that he\nno longer notices his wife; therefore, may it please your mercy to\ndissolve the first marriage, and announce this new one with her\nhighness, your daughter?\u201d\n\nThe barber at this harangue became so infuriated that he rushed blindly\nat the cobbler, and with his razor would have severed his head from the\nrest of his body, but that he was prevented by the guard, who held him\ndown.\n\n\u201cExecutioner, do your work!\u201d cried the baffled king; and at one blow the\nhead of the unfortunate barber rolled on the ground.\n\nPrince Alanbam seeing this, and fearing that more mischief might ensue,\nproposed to the king that one hundred knights should be chosen, and that\nthese should fight for the hand of the lovely Princess Altamira. \u201cI\nmyself will enter the lists,\u201d said the prince; \u201cand the survivor will be\nrewarded by marrying your daughter.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a good idea,\u201d said the king; and calling together ninety-nine\nof his best knights, he bade them fight valiantly, for their reward was\nvery precious.\n\nFifty knights, mounted on beautiful chargers, placed themselves on one\nside, and were opposed by forty-nine equally well-mounted knights and\nPrince Alanbam; and at the word of command, given by the king, they\nadvanced at headlong speed against each other; but, much to the\nastonishment of the spectators, no knight was unhorsed; rather did it\nseem that each knight did his utmost to get run through by his opponent.\n\nAt it they went again and again, but with the same result, for no man\nwas hurt, although seeming to court death.\n\n\u201cWe will alter the order of things,\u201d exclaimed the king. \u201cThe knight who\nis first wounded shall be the one to marry the princess.\u201d\n\nThis was no sooner said than the knights seemed to be possessed of a\nblind fury, and at the first charge nearly every knight was unhorsed and\nevery one wounded, while the confusion and noise were awful. They were\nall accusing each other of being the first wounded; so that, in utter\ndespair, the king declared his daughter should be married to the\nChurch, enter a convent, and thus hide her transcendent beauty.\n\n\u201cNo, father,\u201d exclaimed the ugly princess; \u201cI will get a husband; and if\nin all the states of Spain no one be found worthy enough to be my\nhusband, I will leave Spain for ever. There is a country where the day\nnever dawns, and night is eternal. Thither will I go; for in the dark,\nas all cats are gray, so are all degrees of beauty brought to one common\nlevel. I now know that it is just as unfortunate to be too beautiful as\nit is to be very ugly.\u201d\n\nHaving delivered herself of this speech, Princess Altamira bade the\nking, her father, good-bye, and was on the point of leaving the royal\npresence, when the handsome figure of Felisberto, the blind fiddler, was\nseen to approach.\n\n\u201cPrincess,\u201d exclaimed blind Felisberto, \u201cto Spain nothing is denied. You\nspeak of proceeding to the North, where the day never dawns, in search\nof a husband. You need but look at me to behold one to whom night and\nday, extreme ugliness and transcendent beauty, are alike; and since all\nare so bashful that they will not marry you, allow me, fair princess, to\noffer you my services as a husband. In my world \u2018handsome is that\nhandsome does.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe king was so pleased with the blind fiddler\u2019s speech that he\nimmediately made him a Grandee of Spain, and acknowledged him as his\nson-in-law elect.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WOLF-CHILD.\n\n\nIn the North of Portugal there are many sequestered spots where the\nenchanted Moors and the wizards meet when it is full moon. These places\nare generally situated among high rocks on the precipitous sides of the\nhills overlooking rivers; and when the wind is very boisterous their\nterrible screams and incantations can be distinctly heard by the\npeasantry inhabiting the neighbouring villages.\n\nOn such occasions the father of the family sets fire to a wisp of straw,\nand with it makes the sign of the cross around his house, which prevents\nthese evil spirits from approaching. The other members of the family\nplace a few extra lights before the image of the Virgin; and the\nhorse-shoe nailed to the door completes the safety of the house.\n\nBut it will so happen that sometimes an enchanted Moor, with more\ncunning than honesty, will get through one of the windows on the birth\nof a child, and will brand the infant with the crescent on his shoulder\nor arm, in which case it is well known that the child, on certain\nnights, will be changed into a wolf.\n\nThe enchanted Moors have their castles and palaces under the ground or\nbeneath the rivers, and they wander about the earth, seeing but not\nseen; for they died unbaptized, and have, therefore, no rest in the\ngrave.\n\nThey seem to have given preference to the North of Portugal, where they\nare held in great fear by the ignorant peasantry; and it has been\nobserved that all such of the natives as have left their homes to study\nat the universities, on their return have never been visited by the\nenchanted Moors, as it is well known that they have a great respect for\nlearning. In fact, one of the kings has said that until all his subjects\nwere educated they would never get rid of the enchanted Moors and\nwizards.\n\nIn a village called Darque, on the banks of the Lima, there lived a\nfarmer whose goodness and ignorance were only equalled by those of his\nwife. They were both young and robust, and were sufficiently well off\nto afford the luxury of beef once or twice a month. Their clothes were\nhome-spun, and their hearts were homely. Beyond their landlord\u2019s grounds\nthey had never stepped; but as he owned nearly the whole village, it is\nvery evident that they knew something of this world of ours. They were\nboth born and married on the estate, as their parents had been before\nthem, and they were contented because they had never mixed with the\nworld.\n\nOne day, when the farmer came home to have his midday meal of broth and\nmaize bread, he found his wife in bed with a newborn baby boy by her\nside, and he was so pleased that he spent his hour of rest looking at\nthe child, so that his meal remained untasted on the table.\n\nKissing his wife and infant, and bidding her beware of evil eyes, he\nhurried out of the house back to his work; and so great was his joy at\nbeing a father that he did not feel hungry.\n\nHe was digging potatoes, and in his excitement had sent his hoe through\nsome of them, which, however, he did not notice until he happened to\nstrike one that was so hard that the steel of his hoe flashed.\n\nThinking it was a pebble, he stooped to pick it up, but was surprised\nto see that it was no longer there.\n\nHowever, he went on working, when he struck another hard potato, and his\nhoe again flashed.\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said he, \u201cthe evil one has been sowing this field with stones, as\nhe did in the days of good Saint Euphemia, our patroness.\u201d Saying which,\nhe drew out the small crucifix from under his shirt, and the flinty\npotato disappeared; but he noticed that one of its eyes moved.\n\nHe thought no more of this untoward event, and went on hoeing until\nsunset, when, with the other labourers, he shouldered his hoe and\nprepared to go home.\n\nNever had the distance seemed so great; but at last he found himself by\nhis wife\u2019s bedside. She told him that while he was absent an old woman\nhad called, asking for something to eat, and that as she seemed to have\nmet with some accident, because there was blood running down her face,\nshe invited her in, and told her she might eat what her husband had left\nuntasted.\n\nSitting down at the table, the old woman commenced eating without\nasking a blessing on the food; and when she had finished she approached\nthe bed, and, looking at the infant, she muttered some words and left\nthe house hurriedly.\n\nThe husband and wife were very much afraid that the old woman was a\nwitch; but as the child went on growing and seemed well they gradually\nforgot their visitor.\n\nThe infant was baptized, and was named John; and when he was old enough\nhe was sent out to work to help his parents. All the labourers noticed\nthat John could get through more work than any man, he was so strong and\nactive; but he was very silent.\n\nThe remarkable strength of the boy got to be so spoken about in the\nvillage that at last the wise woman, who was always consulted, said that\nthere was no doubt but that John was a wolf-child; and this having come\nto the ears of his parents, his body was carefully examined, and the\nmark of the crescent was found under his arm.\n\nNothing now remained to be done but to take John to the great wise woman\nof Arifana, and have him disenchanted.\n\nThe day had arrived for the parents to take John with them to Arifana,\nbut when they looked for him he could nowhere be found. They searched\neverywhere\u2014down the well, in the river, in the forest\u2014and made\ninquiries at all the villages, but in vain; John had disappeared.\n\nWeeks went by without any sign of him; and the winter having set in, the\nwolves, through hunger, had become more undaunted in their attacks on\nthe flocks and herds. The farmer, afraid of firing at them, lest he\nmight shoot his son, had laid a trap; and one morning, to his delight,\nhe saw that a very large wolf had been caught, which one of his\nfellow-labourers was cudgelling. Fearing it might be the lost\nwolf-child, he hastened to the spot, and prevented the wolf receiving\nmore blows; but it was too late, apparently, to save the creature\u2019s\nlife, for it lay motionless on the ground as if dead. Hurrying off for\nthe wise woman of the village, she returned with him; and, close to the\nhead of the wolf, she gathered some branches of the common pine-tree,\nand lighting them, as some were green and others dry, a volume of smoke\narose like a tower, reaching to the top of a hill where lived some\nnotorious enchanted Moors and wizards; so that between the wolf and the\nsaid Moors the distance was covered by a tunnel of smoke and fire. Then\nthe wise woman intoned the following words, closing her eyes, and\nbidding the rest do so until she should tell them they might open\nthem:\u2014\n\n    \u201cSpirit of the mighty wind\n      That across the desert howls,\n    Help us here to unbind\n      All the spells of dreaded ghouls;\n    Through the path of smoke and fire\n      Rising to the wizards\u2019 mound,\n    Bid the curs\u00e8d mark retire\n      From this creature on the ground;\n    Bid him take his shape again,\n      Free him from the Crescent\u2019s power,\n    May the holy Cross remain\n      On his temple from this hour.\u201d\n\nShe now made the sign of the Cross over the head of the wolf, and\ncontinued:\u2014\n\n    \u201cRiver, winding to the west,\n      Stay thy rippling current, stay,\n    Jordan\u2019s stream thy tide has blest,\n      Help us wash this stain away;\n    Bear it to the ocean wide,\n      Back to Saracenic shore.\n    Those who washed in thee have died\n      But to live for evermore.\u201d\n\nThen she sprinkled a few drops over the fire, which caused a larger\namount of smoke, and exclaimed\u2014\n\n    \u201cHie thee, spirit, up through smoke,\n      Quenched by water and by fire;\n    Hie thee far from Christian folk,\n      To the wizard\u2019s home retire.\n    Open wide your eyelids now,\n      All the smoke has curled away;\n    \u2019Neath the peaceful olive bough\n      Let us go, and let us pray.\u201d\n\nThen they all rose, and the wolf was no longer there. The fire had\nburned itself out, and the stream was again running. In slow procession\nthey went to the olive grotto, headed by the wise woman; and, after\npraying, they returned to the house, where they found, to their delight,\nJohn fast asleep in his bed; but his arms showed signs of bruises which\nhad been caused by the cudgelling he had received when he was caught in\nthe trap.\n\nThere were great rejoicings that day in the village of Darque; and no\none was better pleased than John at having regained his proper shape.\n\nHe was never known to join in the inhuman sport of hunting wolves for\npleasure, because, as he said, although they may not be wolf-children,\nthey do but obey an instinct which was given them; and to be\nkind-hearted is to obey a precept which was given us. And, owing to the\nintroduction into Portugal of the Book in which this commandment is to\nbe found, wolf-children have become scarcer, and the people wiser.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MAGIC MIRROR.\n\n\nIt was proclaimed throughout the kingdom of Granada that the king had\ndecided on marrying. The news was first told to the court barber, then\nto the night watchmen, and, in the third place, to the oldest woman in\nthe city of Granada.\n\nThe barber told all his customers, who again told all their friends. The\nnight watchmen in crying the hour proclaimed the news in a loud voice,\nso that all the maidens were kept awake by thinking of the news, and by\nday they were being constantly reminded by all the old due\u00f1as that the\nking had resolved to marry.\n\nAfter the news had become somewhat stale, the question was asked, \u201cWho\nis the king going to marry?\u201d To which the barber made reply, that\nprobably \u201che would marry a woman.\u201d\n\n\u201cA woman!\u201d exclaimed his hearers. \u201cWhy, what else could he marry?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot all women are worthy the name,\u201d answered the barber. \u201cSome more\nresemble the unbaptized, of whom I say, _abernuncio_.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what mean you, good friend?\u201d demanded his customers. \u201cIs not the\nking to find a woman for wife in our land of Spain?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe would,\u201d replied the barber, \u201cwith greater ease find the reverse; but\nto find a woman worthy to be his wife I shall have great trouble.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, _you?_\u201d exclaimed all of them. \u201cWhat have you got to do with\nproviding the king with a wife?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am under royal licence, remember,\u201d said he of the razor; \u201cfor I am\nthe only man in the kingdom permitted to rub the royal features. I am\nthe possessor of the magic mirror also, into which if any woman not\nbeing thoroughly good shall look, the blemishes on her character will\nappear as so many spots on its surface.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs this one of the conditions?\u201d asked all.\n\n\u201cThis is the sole condition,\u201d replied the barber, placing his thumbs in\nthe armholes of his waistcoat and looking very wise.\n\n\u201cBut is there no limit as to age?\u201d they again inquired.\n\n\u201cAny woman from eighteen years upwards is eligible,\u201d said the possessor\nof the mirror.\n\n\u201cThen you will have every woman in Granada claiming the right to be\nqueen!\u201d all exclaimed.\n\n\u201cBut, first of all, they will have to justify their claim, for I will\nnot take any woman at her word. No; she will have to gaze into the\nmirror with me by her side,\u201d continued the barber.\n\nThe sole condition imposed on those who desired to become Queen of\nGranada was made known, and was much ridiculed, as may naturally be\nsupposed; but, strange to say, no woman applied to the barber to have a\nlook into the mirror.\n\nDays and weeks went by, but the king was no nearer getting a wife. Some\ngenerous ladies would try and prevail on their lady friends to make the\ntrial, but none seemed ambitious of the honour.\n\nThe king, be it known, was a very handsome man, and was beloved by all\nhis subjects for his many virtues; therefore it was surprising that none\nof the lovely ladies who attended court should try to become his wife.\n\nMany excuses and explanations were given. Some were already engaged to\nbe married, others professed themselves too proud to enter the barber\u2019s\nshop, while others assured their friends that they had resolved on\nremaining single.\n\nThe latter seem to have been cleverer in their excuses, for it was soon\nobservable that no man in Granada would marry, assigning as a reason for\nthis that until the king was suited they would not think of marrying;\nthough the real cause may have been due to the objection of the ladies\nto look into the mirror.\n\nThe fathers of families were much annoyed at the apparent want of female\nambition in their daughters, while the mothers were strangely silent on\nthe matter.\n\nEvery morning the king would ask the barber if any young lady had\nventured on looking into the mirror; but the answer was always the\nsame\u2014that many watched his shop to see if others went there, but none\nhad ventured in.\n\n\u201cAh, Granada, Granada!\u201d exclaimed the king; \u201chast thou no daughter to\noffer thy king? In this Alhambra did my predecessors enjoy the company\nof their wives; and am I to be denied this natural comfort?\u201d\n\n\u201cRoyal master,\u201d said the barber, \u201cin those days the magic mirror was\nunknown and not so much required. Men then only studied the arts, but\nnow is science added to their studies.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou mean, then,\u201d asked the king, \u201cthat an increase in knowledge has\ndone no good?\u201d\n\n\u201cI mean more than that,\u201d continued the barber; \u201cI mean that people are\nworse than they used to be.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018God is great!\u2019 is what these walls proclaim; to know is to be wise,\u201d\nurged the king.\n\n\u201cNot always, sir,\u201d said the barber; \u201cfor the majority of men and women\nin the present know too much and are not too wise, although some deem\nthem wise for being cunning. There is as great a distance between wisdom\nand cunning as there is between the heavens and the earth.\u201d\n\n\u201cBarber,\u201d shouted the king, \u201cthou shalt get me a wife bright as the day,\npure as dew, and good as gold\u2014one who shall not be afraid to look into\nthy magic mirror!\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d replied the barber, \u201cthe only magic about my mirror is that which\nthe evil consciences of the ladies of Granada conjure up. The simple\nshepherdess on the mountain side would brave the magic power of any\nmirror, strong in the consciousness of innocence; but would you marry\nsuch a lowly one?\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch a woman is worthy to be a queen, for she is a pearl without\nprice,\u201d answered the king. \u201cGo, bid her come here; and, in the presence\nof my assembled court, let the gentle shepherdess look into the mirror,\nafter thou hast told her of the danger of so doing.\u201d\n\nThe barber was not long in bringing the shepherdess to court with him;\nand it having been proclaimed throughout the city that the trial was\ngoing to be made, the principal hall was soon filled with all the grand\nladies and knights of the king\u2019s household.\n\nWhen the shepherdess entered the royal presence she felt very shy at\nbeing surrounded by so much grandeur; but she knew enough about her own\nsex to understand that they inwardly considered her not quite so ugly as\nthey audibly expressed her to be.\n\nThe king was very much pleased with her appearance, and received her\nvery kindly, telling her that if she desired to be his wife she would\nhave to gaze into the magic mirror, and if she had done aught which was\nnot consistent with her maidenly character, the mirror would show as\nmany stains on its surface as there might be blemishes on her heart.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d replied the maiden, \u201cwe are all sinners in the sight of God, they\nsay; but I am a poor shepherdess, and surrounded by my flock. I have\nknown what it is to be loved, for, when the sheep have perceived danger,\nthey have come to me for protection. The wild flowers have been my only\nornament, the sky almost my only roof, and God my truest and best\nfriend. Therefore, I fear not to look into that magic mirror; for\nalthough I have no ambition to become queen, yet am I not lacking in\nthat pride which is born of the desire to be good.\u201d\n\nSaying which, she walked up to the mirror and gazed into it, blushing\nslightly, perhaps at the sight of her own beauty, which before she had\nonly seen portrayed in the still brook.\n\nThe court ladies surrounded her; and when they saw that the magic mirror\nshowed no stains on its surface, they snatched it from her, and\nexclaimed\u2014\n\n\u201cThere is no magic in it\u2014a cheat has been put on us!\u201d\n\nBut the king said\u2014\n\n\u201cNo, ladies; you have only yourselves to thank. Had you been as innocent\nas this shepherdess, who is going to be my queen, you would not have\ndreaded looking into the mirror.\u201d\n\nAfter the marriage the barber was heard to say, that as the magic mirror\nhad now lost its virtue, who could tell but what this charm might be\nrestored to Granada?\n\n\n\n\nTHE BLACK SLAVE.\n\n\nThere was once a princess who had a black man slave.\n\n\u201cPrincess,\u201d said the black slave one day, \u201cI know that you love the good\nCount of Yanno very much; but you cannot marry him, for he is already\nmarried. Why not, then, marry me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI love, as you say, the Count of Yanno, and I know that he is married;\nbut my father is a very powerful king, and he can render his marriage\nvoid. As for you,\u201d continued the princess, \u201cI would rather marry the\nlowest born man of my own race than a nigger!\u201d\n\n\u201cRemember, princess, for how many years I have been your true slave\u2014how\nI used to look after you when you were a child. Did I not once save you\nfrom the fangs of a wolf?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou need not tell me,\u201d answered the princess, \u201cthat you love me as\nslaves love their superiors; but should you ever speak again about\nmarrying me, I will tell my royal father.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you mention the love that slaves generally have to their owners, I\nwill not contradict you; but I think that sometimes masters are more\nunworthy the love of their slaves than the slaves are entitled to the\nlove of their masters,\u201d said the slave.\n\n\u201cYou belong to us by purchase or by inheritance,\u201d continued the\nprincess, \u201cand we do not belong to you. The white man gains the love of\nthe lady of his choice by deeds of arms; he bears on his lance the\nbanner embroidered by his lady-love, and, as a true knight, he makes\nverses in her honour.\u201d\n\n\u201cChivalry, as you understand it, is to me a fable; for if one of your\npale-faced knights risk his life, it is on behalf of his family pride,\nalthough he may mention his lady-love\u2019s name with his dying breath; but\nif a slave lay down his life for his master or mistress, it is only\nreckoned a part of his duty,\u201d urged the slave.\n\n\u201cI command you not to speak to me again like this,\u201d said the princess,\n\u201cor I will have you severely punished.\u201d\n\nThe poor slave was very sorrowful when he heard the princess, whom he\nloved so dearly, threaten to have him punished. \u201cDeath is the leveller\nof all ranks and of all races,\u201d said he; \u201cthe dust of the dead white man\nand of the nigger are alike; in death, the king is no more than the\nbeggar. I will run away from this palace and seek refuge in the northern\nprovinces, where, if the climate be colder, they say the hearts of the\npeople are warmer.\u201d\n\nThat very night did Mobarec\u2014for that was the name of the slave\u2014leave\nthe palace of his lady-love, the beautiful banks of the Guadalquivir,\nand his favourite orange-groves. During the daytime he hid in the caves\non the mountain-sides, and as soon as night set in he would continue his\njourney.\n\nWhen he had been travelling like this for some weeks, and as he was\nmaking his way through a dark forest, he saw a brilliant light in the\ndistance; and as he was very hungry, he hoped that it might be from some\nhouse where he might get food and rest. As he walked on he discovered\nthat the light was not from a house, but that it was caused by a large\nbonfire, around which some men and women were seated.\n\nFearing that he might be in the neighbourhood of robbers, he took the\nprecaution of approaching by hiding behind the trees; and when he got\nnear enough to the group to see them plainly, he observed that close to\nthe fire there was a very old woman standing with her arms over the\nfire, and holding a child which screamed as if it were being burned.\n\nMobarec thought that the child was going to be roasted, and did not know\nthat what he saw was simply the act of disenchantment, which was being\ncarried out by the wise woman of the village on a child born with the\nevil eye.\n\nApproaching still nearer, he heard the crone mutter some words, which\nMobarec imagined to be used in order to stifle the piteous cries of the\nchild.\n\nThe crone suddenly commenced shrieking and jumping over the fire, while\nthe men and women who surrounded her beat the air with big sticks, which\nis done when the evil one is supposed to be leaving the body of the\nchild.\n\nJust at this moment Mobarec happened to show himself from behind the\ntree, when he was immediately observed by the wise woman, who directed\nall eyes to him; and their horror can be easily imagined when it is said\nthat Mobarec was the first nigger who had ever visited the northern\nparts of Spain.\n\nMobarec, on perceiving that he was seen, thought he would smile, in\norder to show them that he was a friend; but this made him look all the\nmore terrible by the glare of the fire, and, thinking that he was the\nevil one that had just left the body of the child, they first of all\ncrossed themselves and then ran towards Mobarec with their bludgeons,\nwho, without more ado, took to his feet and was soon lost in the\ndarkness of the forest.\n\nHaving baffled his pursuers, Mobarec sat down to rest and to think over\nwhat he had seen.\n\n\u201cI suppose,\u201d said he to himself, \u201cthat these people were trying to make\na king by burning a white child until he became black, for I could see\nthat they were not going to eat it. I have been told that in some parts\nthey will only have black kings, and I am certainly in one of these\nparts.\u201d\n\nMusing over this idea for a long time, he at last fell asleep, and\ndreamt that he had arrived at a large city, where the people had crowded\nto meet him, and that he was placed on a magnificent throne, crowned\nking, and had married his dear princess.\n\nThen he thought he was in a magnificent bed-chamber, and that the\nsheets of his bed were fringed with fine lace; but purposing to raise\nthe richly embroidered clothes a little higher, as he felt cold, he\nplaced his hands on some stinging nettles, which made him wake and look\naround.\n\nThe day was already commencing; the timid rabbit was lurking about the\ndew-spangled leaves; the linnets were hopping about from branch to\nbranch, and the wheels of some market carts were heard creaking in the\ndistance.\n\nMobarec got up, and looking at himself in the waters of a passing\nstream, he was surprised to see that he had a golden crown on his head.\nIt was, however, but the morning sun shining through the thick foliage\nabove him.\n\n\u201cI was a slave last night,\u201d exclaimed Mobarec; \u201cthis morning I am a\nking.\u201d\n\nHe noticed the direction from which the noise of the cart wheels\nproceeded, and hurrying thither, he soon came within sight of some\npeople who were carrying their wares to market.\n\nMobarec gradually approached them, and, seeing him advance, they\ndropped their baskets, and would have run away if fear had not deprived\nthem of the power to do so.\n\n\u201cBe not afraid,\u201d said the nigger, \u201cfor I am your king. Hitherto you have\nhad to work for the rich, but now the rich shall work for you. There\nshall be no poverty in my kingdom, no hunger, and no sorrow. Bad\nhusbands shall take the place of the asses at the mills, and quarrelsome\nwives shall have a borough to themselves. Go,\u201d continued he, addressing\nthe crowd, \u201cand tell the inhabitants of the city that I am approaching.\u201d\n\n\u201cLong live the king!\u201d shouted his hearers. \u201cLong live the good king who\nwill free us from our quarrelsome wives!\u201d exclaimed the men; \u201cAnd who\nwill send our cruel husbands to replace the asses at the mills!\u201d\nshrieked the women. \u201cLong live the king who will banish poverty!\u201d cried\nall together.\n\nHaving given vent to their enthusiasm, they hurried off to the city, and\nthe good news soon spread that a new king was coming, and that they\nwould all be rich.\n\nThen they prepared a richly caparisoned white mule, with tinkling bells\nround its neck and a cloth of gold on its back, for the black king\u2019s\nuse, and they went out in a body to meet him.\n\nHaving approached Mobarec, they prostrated themselves before him, and\nwere at first very much afraid; but hearing him address the mule in a\ngrand speech, they rose and listened.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said Mobarec to the mule, \u201cI feel highly flattered by this\novation, and I confer on you here the post of principal minister, which\nyou richly deserve for the sagacity you have shown in preserving silence\nwhen all want to make themselves heard. You will see that the poor are\nprovided for, and that they provide for the wants of their king and his\nchosen ministers, of which you are the chief. People,\u201d exclaimed\nMobarec, \u201cbehold your king and his minister! And from this day forward\nlet every man and woman in my kingdom strive to be as sure-footed,\npatient, and silent as this my minister.\u201d\n\nIt must be confessed that the people were somewhat surprised at the turn\nevents had taken; but as, recently, they had had a most unjust chief\nminister, they contented themselves with the knowledge that his\nsuccessor could not introduce any cruel measures.\n\nWith similar ideas occupying them, they retraced their way to the city,\npreceded by their black king and his chief minister.\n\nArrived at the palace, Mobarec entered and took his seat on the throne,\nhis chief minister standing close to the lowest step. He then addressed\nthe audience as follows\u2014\n\n\u201cI make it known that the rich persons of this kingdom shall, if so\nrequired, give up their wealth to the poor, who will then become rich;\nbut, as I would not that those who have hitherto been poor should forget\ntheir duty to their more unfortunate fellow-creatures, I declare that\nthey shall have to contribute not only to the maintenance of the king,\nhis ministers, and the state, but also to the requirements of those at\nwhose expense they have themselves acquired riches. I also command that\nall disputes shall be submitted to the superior wisdom of my chief\nminister, without whose verbal consent it shall be treasonable to have\nrecourse to blows; and I further require of my liege subjects that they\nengage in no war with neighbouring states without taking their wives to\nbattle.\u201d\n\nThis speech was very much applauded, and the white mule, being\nunaccustomed to the surroundings, commenced braying so loudly that\nMobarec got up from his throne and said\u2014\n\n\u201cListen to the voice of my minister; he bids you all be silent while you\npay him homage.\u201d\n\nThen one by one they passed before the mule, bowing to him; and when\nthis ceremony was finished Mobarec informed them that all real kings\nwere of his colour, but that he had resolved on marrying the daughter of\nXisto, false king of Andalusia; and, therefore, he commanded twenty of\nhis subjects to proceed to that kingdom, and bring back with them the\nfair Princess Zeyn, which was the name of the princess he loved.\n\n\u201cIf they ask you what I am like, say that you have never seen one like\nme, and that my wisdom is only approached by that of my chief minister,\u201d\nsaid Mobarec.\n\nAt the end of a month the twenty men returned with the lovely princess,\nwho, until her marriage-day, was lodged in another palace.\n\nGreat preparations were made for the occasion, excepting in one borough\nof the city, which was deserted, for it had been assigned to all\nquarrelsome wives.\n\nThe princess was naturally very anxious to see her future husband, but\netiquette forbade her doing so. Often had she thought of her runaway\nslave and lover. Absence had made her fonder of him, and little by\nlittle he had grown less black to her imagination.\n\nAt last the wedding-day arrived. Mobarec, attended by all his court,\nproceeded to the princess\u2019s palace, dressed in magnificent apparel, his\nstrong black arms bare, but with splendid gold bracelets round them, and\na belt of the same metal round his waist. His coat of mail was\ninterwoven with threads of gold; but his heart required no gold to set\nit off, it was purity itself.\n\nAs soon as the princess saw him she recognized her former slave, and,\nhurrying to meet him, threw her arms round his neck, exclaiming\u2014\n\n\u201cI am not worthy to marry so good a man; but if you will have me, I am\nyours.\u201d\n\n\u201cPrincess,\u201d exclaimed Mobarec, \u201cif I before was thy slave, I am none the\nless so now; for since the first man was created, beautiful woman has\nmade all men captives. If I have aught to ask of thee now, \u2019tis that thy\ndominion over thy new subjects shall be as pleasant to them as it will\nbe delightful to me.\u201d\n\nFrom so wise a king and good a queen the people derived great benefit;\ndisputes never went beyond the ears of the chief minister, and, in the\nwords of the immortal barber and poet of the city, \u201cthe kingdom\nflourished under the guidance of a mule; which proves that there are\nqualities in the irrational beings which even wisest ministers would do\nwell to imitate.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nA LEGEND OF ST. BARTHOLOMEW.\n\n\nIt is a point of faith accepted by all devout Portuguese that\nthirty-three baths in the sea must be taken on or before the 24th of\nAugust of every year. Although the motive may not seem to be very\nreasonable, still the result is of great advantage to those believers\nwho occupy thirty-three days in taking the thirty-three baths, for\notherwise the majority of them would never undergo any form of ablution.\n\nThat the demon is loose on the 24th of August is an established fact\namong the credulous; and were it not for the compact entered into\nbetween St. Bartholomew and the said demon, that all who have taken\nthirty-three baths during the year should be free from his talons, the\nlist of the condemned would be much increased.\n\nNow, there was a very powerful baron, whose castle was erected on the\neastern slope of the Gaviarra, overlooking the neighbouring provinces of\nSpain, and he had always refused to take these thirty-three baths, for\nhe maintained that it was cowardly on the part of a man to show any fear\nof the demon. His castle was fully manned; the drawbridge was never left\nlowered; the turrets were never left unguarded; and a wide and deep\nditch surrounded the whole of his estates, which had been given him by\nAffonso Henriques, after the complete overthrow of the Saracens at\nOurique, in which famous and decisive battle the baron had wrought\nwondrous deeds of bravery.\n\nAll round the castle were planted numerous vines, which had been brought\nfrom Burgundy by order of Count Henry, father of the first Portuguese\nking; and in the month of August the grapes are already well formed, but\nthe hand of Nature has not yet painted them. Among the vines quantities\nof yellow melons and green water-melons were strewn over the ground,\nwhile the mottled pumpkins hung gracefully from the branches of the\norange-trees.\n\nIn front of the castle was an arbour, formed of box-trees, under which a\nlovely fountain had been constructed; and here, in the hot summer\nmonths, would wander the baron\u2019s only daughter, Alina. She was\npossessed of all the qualities, mental and physical, which went towards\nmaking the daughter of a feudal lord desired in marriage by all the\ngallants of the day; and as she was heiress to large estates, these\nwould have been considered a sufficient prize without the said\nqualities. But Alina, for all this, was not happy, for she was enamoured\nof a handsome chief, who, unfortunately, wore the distinctive almexia,\nwhich proved him to be a Moor, and, consequently, not a fit suitor for\nthe daughter of a Christian baron.\n\n\u201cMy father,\u201d she would often soliloquize, \u201cis kind to me, and professes\nto be a Christian. My lover, as a follower of the Prophet, hates my\nfather, but, as a man, he loves me. For me he says he will do anything;\nyet, when I ask him to become a Christian, he answers me that he will do\nso if I can prevail on my father to so far conform with the Christian\nlaw as to take the thirty-three baths; and this my father will not do.\nWhat am I to do? He would rather fight the demon than obey the saint.\u201d\n\nOne day, however, she resolved on telling her father about her courtship\nwith the young chief, Al-Muli, and of the only condition he made, on\nwhich depended his becoming a convert to Christianity, which so\ninfuriated the baron that, in his anger, he declared himself willing to\nmeet the demon in mortal combat, hoping thus to free the world of him\nand of the necessity of taking the thirty-three baths.\n\nThis so much distressed Alina, that when, during the afternoon of the\nsame day, Al-Muli met her in the arbour, she disclosed to him her firm\nresolution of entering a convent, and spending the rest of her days\nthere.\n\n\u201cThis shall not be!\u201d cried Al-Muli; and, seizing her round the waist, he\nlifted her on to his shoulder, sped through the baronial grounds, and,\nhaving waded through the ditch, placed her on the albarda of his horse\nand galloped away.\n\nAlina was so frightened that she could not scream, and she silently\nresigned herself to her fate, trusting in the honour of her lover.\n\nThe alcazar, or palace, of Al-Muli was situated on the Spanish side of\nthe frontier; and, as they approached the principal gate, the almocadem,\nor captain of the guard, hurried to receive his master, who instructed\nhim to send word to his mother that he desired of her to receive and\nlook after Alina. This done, he assisted his bride elect to dismount,\nand, with a veil hiding her lovely features, she was ushered by\nAl-Muli\u2019s mother into a magnificently furnished room, and took a seat on\na richly embroidered cushion, called an almofada.\n\nTo her future mother-in-law she related all that referred to her\nconversation with her father, and how she had been brought away from his\ncastle; and she further said that she very much feared the baron would\nsummon all his numerous followers to rescue her.\n\nAl-Muli\u2019s mother was a descendant of the Moors who first landed at\nAlgeziras, and from them had descended to her that knowledge of the\nblack art which has been peculiar to that race. She, therefore, replied\nthat although she could count on the resistance her almogavares, or\ngarrison soldiers, would offer to the forces of the baron, still she\nwould do her utmost to avoid a conflict. She then proceeded to another\nroom, in which she kept her magic mirror, and having closed the door, we\nmust leave her consulting the oracle.\n\nThe baron was not long in discovering the absence of his daughter, and\nhe so stormed about the place that his servants were afraid to come near\nhim.\n\nIn a short time, however, his reason seemed to return to him, and he\nsat down on his old chair and gave way to grief when he saw that his\nAlina\u2019s cushion was vacant.\n\n\u201cMy child\u2014my only child and love,\u201d sobbed the old man, \u201cthou hast left\nthy father\u2019s castle, and gone with the accursed Moor into the hostile\nland of Spain. Oh, that I had been a good Christian, and looked after my\ndaughter better! I have braved the orders of good St. Bartholomew; I\nwould not take the thirty-three baths in the sea, and now I am\nwretched!\u201d\n\nThe baron suddenly became aware of the presence of a distinguished and\npatriarchal looking stranger, who addressed him thus\u2014\n\n\u201cYou mortals only think of St. Barbara when it thunders. Now that the\nstorm of sorrow has burst on you, you reproach yourself for not having\nthought of me and of my instructions. But I see that you are penitent,\nand if you will do as I tell you, you will regain your daughter.\u201d\n\nIt was St. Bartholomew himself who was speaking, and the baron, for the\nfirst time in his life, shook in his shoes with fear and shame.\n\n\u201cReverend saint,\u201d at last ejaculated the baron, \u201chelp me in this my\nhour of need, and I will promise you anything\u2014and, what is more, I will\nkeep my promises.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you had better do so,\u201d continued the saint; \u201cfor not even Satan has\ndared to break his compact with me. You don\u2019t know how terrible I can\nbe!\u201d\u2014here the saint raised his voice to such a pitch that the castle\nshook. \u201cOnly let me catch you playing false with me, and I\u2019ll\u2014I\u2019ll\u2014I\ndon\u2019t know what I\u2019ll do!\u201d\n\n\u201cMost reverend saint and father, you have only to command me and I will\nobey,\u201d murmured the affrighted baron\u2014\u201cI will indeed. Good venerable St.\nBartholomew, only give me back my daughter\u2014that is all I ask.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour daughter is now in the hands of Al-Muli, her lover, who dwells in\na stronger castle than yours, and who, moreover, has a mother versed in\nthe black art. It is no good your trying to regain her by the force at\nyour disposal; you must rely on me\u2014only on me. Do you understand?\u201d\nasked the saint.\n\n\u201cYes, dear, good, noble, and venerable saint, I do understand you; but\nwhat am I to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cSimply follow me, and say not a word as you go,\u201d commanded the\npatriarch.\n\nThe baron did as he was told; and out from the castle the two went\nunseen by any one. The baron soon perceived that he was hurrying through\nthe air, and he was so afraid of falling that he closed his eyes. All at\nonce he felt that his feet were touching the ground; and, looking around\nhim, what was his delight to find himself close to his dear daughter\nAlina.\n\n\u201cFather\u2014dear father!\u201d exclaimed Alina; \u201chow did you come here so\nquickly, for I have only just arrived? And how did you pass by the\nguards?\u201d\n\nThe baron was going to tell her, but the saint, in a whisper, enjoined\nsilence on this point; and the baron now noticed that the saint was\ninvisible.\n\n\u201cNever mind, dear child, how I came here; it is enough that I am here,\u201d\nreplied her father. \u201cAnd I intend taking you home with me, dear Alina.\nThe castle is so lonely without you;\u201d and the old man sobbed.\n\nAt this moment Al-muli entered the chamber, and, seeing Alina\u2019s father\nthere, he thought there had been treachery among his guards; so striking\na gong that was near him, a number of armed men rushed in.\n\n\u201cHow now, traitors!\u201d said he. \u201cHow have you been careful of your duties\nwhen you have allowed this stranger to enter unobserved?\u201d\n\nThe soldiers protested their innocence, until at last Al-muli commenced\nto think that there must be some secret entrance into his castle.\n\n\u201cSearch everywhere!\u201d screamed the infuriated Moor. \u201cHave the guard\ndoubled at all the entrances, and send me up the captain!\u201d\n\nAl-muli\u2019s instructions were carried out, and the captain reported that\nall was safe.\n\n\u201cOld man,\u201d said the Moor, addressing the baron, \u201cI have thee now in my\npower. Thou wert the enemy of my noble race. To thy blind rage my\npredecessors owed their downfall in Portugal. Thy bitter hatred carried\nthee to acts of vengeance. Thou art now in my power, but I will not harm\none of thy grey hairs.\u201d\n\n\u201cMoor,\u201d replied the baron, with a proud look, \u201ccan the waters of the\nManzanares and of the Guadalquivir join? No! And so cannot and may not\nthy accursed race join with ours! Thy race conquered our people, and in\nrising against thine we did but despoil the despoiler.\u201d\n\n\u201cThy logic is as baseless as thy fury was wont to be,\u201d answered the\nMoor. \u201cThough hundreds of miles separate the Manzanares from the\nGuadalquivir, yet do they meet in the mightier waters of the ocean.\nHadst thou said that ignorance cannot join hands with learning, thou\nwouldst have been nearer the mark, or that the Cross can never dim the\nlight of the Crescent.\u201d\n\nThese words were spoken in a haughty manner; and as Al-muli turned round\nand looked upon his splendidly arrayed soldiers, who surrounded the\nchamber, his pride seemed justified.\n\n\u201cThou canst not crush me more than thou hast done, vile Moor,\u201d said the\nbaron. \u201cThou hast robbed me of my daughter, not by force of arms, but\nstealthily, as a thief at midnight. If any spark of chivalry warmed thy\ninfidel blood thou wouldst blush for the act thou hast wrought. But I\nfear thee not, proud Moor; thy warriors are no braver than thy women.\nDare them to move, and I will lay thee at my feet.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, my father, and thou, dear Al-Muli, abandon these threats, even if\nyou cannot be friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, maiden,\u201d exclaimed Al-Muli; \u201cI will not be bearded in my own den.\nAdvance, guards, and take this old man to a place of safety below!\u201d\n\nBut not a soldier moved; and when Al-Muli was about to approach them to\nsee what was the matter with them, his scimitar dropped from his hand,\nand he fell on the ground.\n\n\u201cWhat charm hast thou brought to bear on me, bold baron,\u201d screamed the\nMoor, \u201cthat I am thus rendered powerless? Alina, if thou lovest me, give\nme but that goblet full of water, for I am faint.\u201d\n\nAlina would have done as her lover bade her, but just then the figure of\nthe venerable St. Bartholomew was seen with the cross in his right hand.\n\n\u201cMoor and infidel,\u201d said the saint, \u201cthou hast mocked at this symbol of\nChristianity, and thou hast done grievous injury to this Christian\nbaron; but thou hast been conscientious in thy infidelity. Nor am I slow\nto recognize in thy race a knowledge of the arts and sciences not yet\nextended to the Christian. Yet, for all this, thou art but an infidel.\nLet me but baptize thee with the water thou wouldst have drunk, and all\nwill yet be well.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir saint,\u201d answered the Moor. \u201cWhen in my castle strangers thus\ntreat me rudely, I can die, but not bend to their orders. If yonder\nbaron is a true Christian, why has he not taken the thirty-three baths\nenjoined by thee?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if my father do take them, wilt thou, as thou didst promise me,\u201d\nsaid Alina, \u201cbe converted to the true faith?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Moor breaks not his promise. As the golondrina returns to its nest\nin due season, so the man of honour returns to his promise.\u201d Then,\nturning to the baron, he demanded to know if he would comply with the\nsaint\u2019s instructions.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d answered the baron; \u201cI have promised the good saint everything,\nand I will fulfil my promises. Al-Muli, if you love my daughter, love\nher faith also, and I will then have regained not only a daughter, but a\nson in my old age.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe promise of the Moor is sacred,\u201d said Al-Muli. \u201cBaptize me and my\nhousehold; and do thou, good baron, intercede for me with the venerable\nsaint, for I like not this lowly posture.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear Al-Muli,\u201d sobbed Alina for joy, \u201cthe Cross and the Crescent are\nthus united in the mightier ocean of love and goodwill. May the two\nraces whom one God has made be reconciled! And to-morrow\u2019s sun must not\nset before we all comply with the condition imposed by St.\nBartholomew.\u201d\n\nThe saint was rejoiced with the work he had that day done, and declared\nthat the churches he liked men to construct are those built within them,\nwhere the incense offered is prayer, and the work done, love. \u201cAs for\nthe baths, they are but desirable auxiliaries,\u201d said he.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WHITE CAT OF ECIJA.\n\n\nFrom the gates of the palace, situated on a gentle eminence in the\nvicinity of Ecija, down to the banks of the Genil, the ground was\ncovered with olive-trees; and the wild aloes formed a natural and strong\nfence around the property of the White Cat of Ecija, whose origin,\ndating back to the days of Saracenic rule, was unknown to the liberated\nSpaniard.\n\nThere was a great mystery attaching to the palace and its occupants; and\nalthough the servants of the White Cat were to all appearances human\nbeings, still, as they were deaf and dumb, and would not, or could not,\nunderstand signs, the neighbours had not been able to discover the\nsecret or mystery.\n\nThe palace was a noble building, after the style of the alcazar at\nToledo, but not so large; and the garden at the rear was laid out with\nmany small lakes, round which, at short distances, stood beautifully\nsculptured statues of young men and women, who seemed to be looking\nsorrowfully into the water. Only the brain and hand of an exceptionally\ngifted artist could have so approached perfection as to make the statues\nlook as if alive. At night strings of small lamps were hung round the\nlakes, and from the interior of the palace proceeded strains of sweet,\nbut very sad music.\n\nCuriosity had long ceased to trouble the neighbours as to the mysterious\nWhite Cat and her household, and, with the exception of crossing\nthemselves when they passed by the grounds, they had given up the affair\nas incomprehensible.\n\nThose, however, who had seen the White Cat, said that she was a\nbeautiful creature; her coat was like velvet, and her eyes were like\npearls.\n\nOne day a knight in armour, and mounted on a coal-black charger, arrived\nat the principal hostelry in Ecija, and on his shield he bore for his\ncoat of arms a white cat rampant, and, underneath, the device,\n\u201cInvincible.\u201d\n\nHaving partaken of some slight repast, he put spurs to his horse and\ngalloped in the direction of the palace of the White Cat; but as he was\nnot seen to return through the town, the people supposed that he had\nleft by some other road.\n\nThe White Cat was seen next day walking about in the grounds, but she\nseemed more sorrowful than usual.\n\nIn another month\u2019s time there came another knight fully equipped, and\nmounted on a grey charger. On his shield he also displayed a white cat,\nwith the device, \u201cI win or die.\u201d He also galloped off to the palace, or\nalcazar, and was not seen to return; but next day the White Cat was\nstill more sorrowful.\n\nIn another month a fresh knight appeared. He was a handsome youth, and\nhis bearing was so manly that a crowd collected. He was fully equipped,\nbut on his shield he displayed a simple red cross. He partook of some\nfood, and then cantered out of the town with his lance at rest. He was\nseen to approach the palace, and as soon as he thrust open the gate with\nhis lance, a terrific roar was heard, and then a sheet of fire flashed\nfrom the palace door, and they saw a horrid dragon, whose long tail, as\nit lashed the air, produced such a wind that it seemed as if a gale had\nsuddenly sprung up.\n\nBut the gallant knight was not daunted, and eagerly scanned the dragon\nas if to see where he might strike him.\n\nSuddenly it was seen that the dragon held the White Cat under its\ntalons, so that the Knight of the Cross in charging the dragon had to\ntake care not to strike her. Spurring his horse on, he never pulled up\ntill he had transfixed the dragon with his lance, and, jumping off the\nsaddle, he drew his sword and cut off the monster\u2019s head.\n\nNo sooner had he done this than he was surrounded by ten enormous\nserpents, who tried to coil round him; but as fast as they attacked him,\nhe strangled them.\n\nThen the serpents turned into twenty black vultures with fiery beaks,\nand they tried to pick out his eyes; but with his trusty blade he kept\nthem off, and one by one he killed them all, and then found himself\nsurrounded by forty dark-haired and dark-eyed lovely maidens, who would\nhave thrown their arms around him, but that he, fearing their intentions\nwere evil, kept them off; when, looking on the ground, he saw the White\nCat panting, and heard her bid him \u201cstrike.\u201d\n\nHe waited no longer, but struck at them and cut off their heads, and\nthen saw that the ground was covered with burning coal, which would have\nscorched the White Cat and killed her, had not the gallant knight raised\nher in his arms. He then placed her on his shield, and as soon as she\ntouched the cross she was seen to change into a beautiful maiden, and\nall the statues round the lakes left their positions and approached her.\n\nAs soon as she could recover herself sufficiently to speak, she\naddressed the knight as follows\u2014\n\n\u201cGallant sir, I am Mizpah, only daughter of Mudi Ben Raschid, who was\ngovernor of this province for many years under the Moorish king,\nAlmandazar the Superb. My mother was daughter of Alcharan, governor of\nMazagan, and she was a good wife and kind mother. But my father\ndiscovering that she had forsaken the faith of her fathers, and had\nembraced the religion of the Cross, so worried her to return to her\nchildhood\u2019s faith that she died broken-hearted. Then he married again,\nand his second wife, my stepmother, was a very wicked woman. She knew\nthat I was a Christian at heart, and that my lover was also a Christian;\nso one day, when my father was holding a banquet, she said to him,\n\u2018Mudi Ben Raschid, the crescent of the Holy Prophet is waning in thy\nfamily\u2014thy daughter is a renegade!\u2019\n\n\u201cThen he was very much annoyed, and exclaimed that he would his palace\nand his riches were made over to the enemy of mankind and I turned into\na cat, than that so great a stain should fall on his family. No sooner\nhad he finished speaking than he fell dead and his wicked wife also, and\nI was turned into a cat; my lover, Haroun, and all my young friends were\nturned into stone, and my servants were stricken deaf and dumb. Many a\nbrave knight has been here to try and deliver me; but they all failed,\nbecause they only trusted in themselves, and were therefore defeated.\nBut thou, gallant knight, didst trust more on the Cross than on thyself,\nand thou hast freed me. I am, therefore, the prize of thy good sword;\ndeal with me as thou wilt.\u201d\n\nThe Knight of the Cross assured her that he came from Compostella, where\nit was considered a duty to rescue maidens in distress, and that the\nhighest reward coveted was that of doing their duty. He had in various\nparts of the world been fortunate enough in freeing others, and he had\nstill more work before him. He trusted that the lovely Mizpah might long\nbe spared to Haroun, and, saluting her, he galloped off.\n\nThen was the wedding held, at which all the people from Ecija attended;\nand the bridegroom, rising, wished prosperity to the good knight, St.\nJames of Compostella, who had been the means of bringing about so much\nhappiness.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CHURCH AUCTIONEER AND CLOWN OF VILLAR.\n\n\nDown the slopes of the neighbouring mountains were heard the stirring\nsounds of the bagpipes and drums, and at short intervals a halfpenny\nrocket would explode in mid-air, streaking the blue sky with a wreath of\nsmoke.\n\nNearer and nearer came the sounds, and the villagers stood at their\ncottage doors waiting for the musicians to pass. Next to the firing of\nrockets nothing can be more heart-stirring than the martial sound of the\npipes and drums. The big drum was, on this occasion, played most\nmasterly by the auctioneer and clown of the parish church, called Jos\u00e9\nCarcunda, or Joseph the Hunchback.\n\nJos\u00e9 Carcunda was dressed in his gala uniform\u2014cocked hat, scarlet coat\nwith rich gold lace embroidery, white trousers, and red morocco\nslippers. He was a clever man, and could take many parts in the church\nplays acted in public for the benefit of the faithful. Sometimes he was\nHerod, at others, St. Joseph; again he would appear as Judas, and then\nas Solomon; but in this latter capacity he had given some offence to the\nvicar by appearing on the stage under the influence of drink.\n\nOf all the weaknesses to which human flesh is heir, none is more\ndespised in Portugal than drunkenness. Wine is emblematical of that\nstream which flowed from the Crucified on Calvary, and the abuse of such\na precious gift is not easily overlooked.\n\nWithin the narrow bounds of their primitive way of thinking are cast\nsome of the finest traits in the character of the Portuguese peasantry,\nalthough, in many instances, to this very same source must be attributed\nsome of their peculiar ideas as to fate. They are fatalists to a very\ngreat extent.\n\nIn Roman Catholic countries, the Sabbath is remembered by attending mass\nin the morning, and by amusements in the afternoon. No public-house,\nwith its glittering lights within, with its bright and cosy fire, and\nwith its grand display of mirrors and pictures, invites the peasant to\nstep inside and gossip about his neighbours, while sipping the genial\njuice of the grape, or the _fire-water_ that gives to the eye a\nsupernatural brightness, and to the tongue a rush of foolish language.\nThere is no law against such houses, but there is a popular prejudice.\n\nJos\u00e9 Carcunda was heard to say, after he had been guilty of drinking to\nexcess when attired as Solomon, that his faithful dog Ponto refused to\naccompany him home on that occasion; \u201cAnd as the creature stared at me,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201cI could see shame and sorrow mingling in his eyes.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere comes the Carcunda!\u201d exclaimed the village belle, Belmira. \u201cHe is\nhalf hidden by the drum; but to-morrow we shall see him at early mass,\nwhen the good St. Anthony is to be raised to the rank of major.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said her lover, Manoel; \u201cand it will be a grand sight, for the\npriest showed me the _Gazette_ in which is the king\u2019s warrant. St.\nAnthony\u2019s regiment is to arrive to-morrow, and after the image has\ndonned the uniform the soldiers will present arms, the bombs will\nexplode, rockets will be fired, and the band will play.\u201d\n\nAs the musicians entered the village, heralding the grand entertainment\nto be held next day, the people cheered them heartily, and followed them\nto the church, situated on the top of a small hill, around which\nbonfires were in course of preparation for the night.\n\nA cart laden with water-melons, another with a pipe of green wine, and a\nfew stalls where sweetstuff was exposed for sale, formed the principal\nfeature of the fair.\n\nThe door of the church was thrown open, and the main altar was lit up\nwith many lights. The chapels on each side were festooned with garlands\nof flowers; but that dedicated to the miraculous St. Anthony, junior\nmajor in the 10th regiment of infantry, was the grandest of all, with\nits magnificent silk draperies, and the altar decorated with flowers.\n\nJos\u00e9 Carcunda was a proud man that day. He had presided over all the\narrangements, and they had given great satisfaction. Belmira had set the\nother girls the example of showing him their gratitude by kissing him.\nHe was so overwhelmed by their caresses that he tried to get clear of\nthem, lest his wife might be jealous; but it was of no use trying to\nfree himself, for they made him sit on a stone bench, and, handing him\na guitar, requested him to extemporize some verses:\u2014\n\n    \u201cFair ladies mine, I love the wine,\n      But music I love better;\n    Still stronger far than song divine,\n      I love the ladies better.\n\n    \u201cI love the fields with flowerets bright,\n      The birds with carol merry;\n    I love the\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I cannot sing just now; I am too happy,\u201d exclaimed the hunchback.\n\u201cI feel like the rich miser of Santillana, when he recollected that he\nwould be buried at the expense of the parish. So as my helpmate Joanna\ncome not here, I care not how long the troops delay in arriving. Ah,\nJoanna is too good for me, as the runaway criminal said of the gallows;\nand the older she gets the more I recognize it! Yes, Joanna is too good\nfor me and for this world; but we don\u2019t make ourselves\u2014no, we don\u2019t do\nthat.\u201d\n\nHere Jos\u00e9 Carcunda shook his head very wisely, and looked at his\nslippered feet with some pardonable pride.\n\n\u201cLook you here,\u201d said one of his fair companions, \u201cyou are very stupid\nto-day; you will not sing, nor will you dance. Will you, then, tell us\nthe tale about the sorrowful mule, and what befell her, or about the\nmerry friar who turned highwayman to enrich the Church, or about the\npalaces of the enchanted Moors?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will tell you something that happened to me when I was a young man,\u201d\nanswered the hunchback.\n\n\u201cKnow, then,\u201d continued Jos\u00e9 Carcunda, \u201cthat in my younger days I was an\nalmocreve (muleteer), and owned six of the finest mules in the province\nof the Beira. I used to attend the weekly fair held at the university\ncity, Coimbra, where I found a good market for my earthenware with which\nI loaded the mules.\n\n\u201cFortune had favoured me, and I had saved some gold crowns; and on\nSundays, when I had shaved and put on clean linen, I was the pride of\nthe village.\n\n\u201cOne summer\u2019s day, as I was leading my six mules, fully laden with pots\nand pans, to Coimbra, a student, who was on the roadside, saluted me and\nsaid\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Good Jos\u00e9, I have a great favour to ask of you, and one that I know\nyou will not deny me.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Your excellency,\u2019 said I, \u2018has but to order, and I will obey, so long\nas you place not my eternal happiness in jeopardy.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The saints forbid,\u2019 answered the student, \u2018that I should ask you to do\nanything but what a Christian man should do! No, friend Jos\u00e9, my errand\nis indeed a strange and sad one; but I feel that I must be as true to\n(with your leave) a mule as my profession requires me to be to a human\nbeing.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018What!\u2019 exclaimed I, \u2018are you under some spell, some wicked\nenchantment, that you make promises to (with your excellency\u2019s leave) a\nmule, which is the accursed animal since the days of Bethlehem?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018No, good friend,\u2019 continued the sorrowful student; \u2018I am under no\nspell, but under a vow; for I have promised to convey some sad news to\n(with your leave) that mouse-coloured mule of yours, and I feel that I\nmust break it gently to her.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Sir,\u2019 said I, \u2018you see before you a man who knows not the difference\nbetween the _Credo_ and the _Paternoster_ when they are written; and\nthough I have heard say that if you want to see thieves you must get\ninside a prison and look at the passers-by, still am I not inclined to\nthink that if you desire to see knaves you must look in at the windows\nof the university. My mule (with your excellency\u2019s permission) is but a\nmule, and has no knowledge of sorrow or of language; therefore, of what\navail to speak to her?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018You are much mistaken,\u2019 answered the student, who now had tears in his\neyes, \u2018for it is well known that even the irrational animals have\nfeelings, and they have been heard to speak. Good friend, grant me my\nrequest, for, as I said before, I am under a vow.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Have your way, dear sir,\u2019 said I; \u2018but if the animal bites you, blame\nnot me. She is but a stubborn thing at the best of times.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe six mules were tied one to the other, and each had a big load of\npots and pans. They were standing in the middle of the road with their\ngay trappings and bells about them; and as I looked at the\nmouse-coloured one, I wondered what the student could have to say to her\nand how he would say it; but, as you know, these men who frequent the\nuniversity are so learned that they can repeat the _Credo_ backwards\nway, which is the great secret in the black art.\n\n\u201cThe student, having obtained my permission to speak to the\nmouse-coloured mule, approached her gradually, exclaiming at intervals,\n\u2018Poor creature, how she will take it to heart! But I am under a vow. I\nmust tell her\u2014I must; but it is so painful!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Senhor,\u2019 I exclaimed, \u2018you remind me of the Alcaide of Montijo, who\nhesitated to approach his mother-in-law until she was gloved. What you\nhave to say, that say, and let me go my way.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Unthoughtful man!\u2019 cried the student; \u2018little you wot of the sad news\nI have to break to that poor creature! To you a mule is but a\nfour-legged creature, the cathedral bell but a thing of brass, and the\nuniversity but the abode of the black art. You are absolutely ignorant,\nsir,\u2019 continued the student, \u2018for which you have much to be thankful;\nfor if you were a student you would not sell earthenware pans, and would\ntherefore lose the profit which you now make; and were you a student,\nyou would at this moment be all of a tremble, for you would then know\nthat we are at this present moment standing over a frightful abyss that\nwill soon yawn to receive its prey.\u2019\n\n\u201cI was now terribly frightened lest the student, in his calculations,\nshould have made the mistake of a minute, so I rushed to the foremost\nmule so as to get her to lead the way out of the danger; but the student\nprevented me, saying\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Not that way, for you will fall into the pit. Let me first of all\nwhisper my news into the mouse-coloured mule\u2019s ear, and all may yet be\nwell.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Hurry, then,\u2019 said I, \u2018or else we shall all be lost.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018It is a very good thing to be in a hurry when you know what to do,\u2019\nanswered the student; \u2018but we must be cautious. Therefore, step lightly\nthat way until you reach yonder lofty tree and get up it; but, before\ndoing so, fill your pockets with stones.\u2019\n\n\u201cI can assure you that I was not long in carrying out the student\u2019s\ninstructions, and never have I trod so lightly on the ground as I did\nthat day. The student, as soon as he saw me half-way up the tree,\nshouted out, \u2018Here it comes! Oh, this is awful\u2014just as I told her all\nabout it! Oh dear, oh dear!\u2019\n\n\u201cI now noticed that the student was taking long jumps in the direction\nof the tree up which I had climbed, and at every jump he would call out,\n\u2018Shut your eyes, or you will become blind!\u2019\n\n\u201cThen I heard a most dreadful noise, as if the end of the world had\ncome; but I could still hear the student crying out, \u2018Shut your eyes,\ngood friend, or you will be blinded!\u2019\n\n\u201cI have never been so terrified either before or since that day, and I\nwas also in considerable pain, as the stones which I had placed in the\npockets of my pants had, with climbing, almost sunk into me.\n\n\u201cAfter having kept my eyes closed for some time, I ventured on opening\nthem, and then I saw a sight which told me I was a ruined man. My mules\nwere rolling about in the dust, and all my pots and pans were wrecked.\nThe mouse-coloured mule, moreover, seemed to be demented; she rolled and\nwrithed so that it seemed as if she were in awful distress, and there\nwas no doubt but that she had dragged the others down with her.\n\n\u201cSuddenly I heard the voice of the student, and, looking down, I saw\nthat he was seated on a branch just below me. \u2018Ah, poor creature,\u2019 said\nhe, \u2018how terribly she feels the bereavement! Let us descend,\u2019 continued\nhe, \u2018for the danger is now over, and we must, as Christian men, render\naid to the poor dumb animals.\u2019 Saying which he slid down the tree, and I\nafter him as well as I could; and as soon as we again got on the road,\nhe bid me try to pacify the mouse-coloured mule, while he would do his\nutmost to get the leader to get up.\n\n\u201cI saw that all my earthenware was broken, and I gave myself up to\ngrief. \u2018Unlucky man that I am!\u2019 I exclaimed. \u2018What harm can I have done\nto have deserved so great a punishment, and what, sir student, did you\nsay to yon mule to make her act so?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Alas, friend Jos\u00e9,\u2019 said he, \u2018we of the educated class understand\nresignation, but to such as you, as well as to the irrational creation,\nis this virtue denied. You bemoan the loss of your earthenware; and\nyonder dumb creature, with perhaps a glimmering of humanity about her,\nbut certainly with more reason than you, deplores the loss of a good and\nbeloved parent, who, on his death-bed, implored me to inform his\ndaughter when I should next see her that he had died thinking of her,\nand that he bequeathed to her all he had to give, namely, the right of\npasturage over all the lands in Spain and Portugal, and as much more as\nshe could snatch from her neighbour when in the stable. Good-bye, friend\nJos\u00e9; my vow is accomplished, and I leave you in peace with your mules.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018And with the broken earthenware,\u2019 said I, \u2018and with my fortunes\nblasted, and with my legs bleeding; and all because I met you!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Say not so, friend Jos\u00e9, for had it not been for me you would most\nassuredly have been swallowed up by the underground abyss. No, say not\nso, nor yet complain of your mouse-coloured mule, for to lament the\ndeath of a father is but natural.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe student walked quietly away, and I then set to making the mules get\nup, which, after much trouble, I succeeded in doing; but noticing that\nthe mouse-coloured mule kept her head on one side as if in pain, I\nexamined her, and on looking into her ear I discovered the end of a\ncigarette which that vile student had purposely dropped into it. I now\nknew that I had been deceived; but the cheat had already disappeared,\nso, like a wise man, I trudged home, sold my animals to pay my debts,\nand, having nothing better to do, I married Joanna and became, as you\nknow, the church clown and auctioneer.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE WISE KING OF LEON.\n\n\nThere was a rich nobleman who had three sons; and the king, being very\nfond of him, appointed the eldest son his page, the second his butler,\nand the youngest his barber.\n\nThe barber fell in love with the king\u2019s only daughter, who was equally\nfond of him; and when this came to the ears of the king, he decided on\nputting a stop to it; so he called for the princess, and said\u2014\n\n\u201cI know that you are in love with my barber, and if you insist on\nmarrying him I will have you killed.\u201d\n\nThe princess, on hearing her father say this, became very sorrowful, and\nasked him to allow her one day for consideration, to which the king\nacceded.\n\nShe then went to her room, and getting together some of her finest\ndresses, she made them up into a bundle, and left the palace by a\nsecret door.\n\nFor seven days and nights did the princess walk through the forest,\nsubsisting on wild fruit and the water from the rivulets. For seven days\nand nights did her father seek for her, and, not finding her, he sent\nfor the barber, and told him that he must immediately go in search of\nthe princess, and if he did not bring her back within a year he should\ndie.\n\nAt the end of the seventh day the princess was so tired that she could\nnot continue her journey; and being afraid of the wolves, she managed to\nclimb on to the first branch of a large oak-tree; and when there,\ndiscovering that the trunk was hollow, she let herself slip down into\nthe hollow, and there rested.\n\nShe had not been long in her hiding-place when her lover, the barber,\napproached, sighing, and saying to himself\u2014\n\n\u201cWoe is me, for I shall never find the princess! There are so many\nlovely damsels in Castille, and yet I must fall in love with the king\u2019s\nonly daughter.\u201d\n\nThe princess, hearing him speak, said in a disguised voice\u2014\n\n\u201cWoe is the king\u2019s daughter! There are so many gallants in Spain, and\nyet she must fall in love with her father\u2019s barber!\u201d\n\nThe barber was much surprised to hear this apt rejoinder; but he could\nnot find out from whence the voice came. He looked about everywhere, and\nat last, feeling sleepy, he lay down under the oak-tree where the\nprincess was hidden.\n\nIn a very short time the barber was fast asleep; and the princess,\nhearing him breathe heavily, got out of her hiding-place, mounted the\nbarber\u2019s horse, which the king had given him, and rode away with the\nbarber\u2019s bundle of clothes, leaving her own in its place.\n\nWhen she had ridden at full speed for some hours she dismounted, and\nopening the barber\u2019s bundle, she then disrobed herself and put on male\nattire.\n\nNext day she had arrived in the kingdom of Leon, and she rode up to the\nking\u2019s palace and offered her services to the king as barber.\n\nThe king, being much struck by the stately bearing of the stranger,\nwillingly accepted the proffered services.\n\nWhen the real barber awoke and found his horse and clothes gone he was\nmuch alarmed; but seeing a bundle close to him he opened it, and was\ndelighted to find his lover\u2019s dresses in it.\n\nBeing a beardless youth, and very handsome, he bethought him of putting\non the princess\u2019s finest dress; and as his hair was very long and curly,\naccording to the fashion of the day, he made a very pretty woman.\n\nFoot-sore and weary, he at last arrived at the palace of the King of\nLeon, and was admitted to the king\u2019s presence as the daughter of the\nneighbouring King of Castille.\n\nThe King of Leon was so charmed with the beauty of the new arrival that\nhe could not sleep, and so he sent for the barber, to whom he confided\nhis love.\n\nThe real princess was much astonished to hear that her lover was in the\npalace, for she guessed it was he in female attire; but she kept quiet\nuntil her lover was asleep in bed, and then she stole into his room, put\nback his clothes, and took her own away.\n\nNext morning when the real barber awoke and found his magnificent\ndresses gone and his male attire restored to him he was indeed\nsurprised; but there was no help for it\u2014he must again become a man and\na barber.\n\nThe princess put on her own clothes, and hid in a cupboard of the room.\nWhen she saw her lover leave the room, and heard him go down the\nstaircase, she closed the door behind him and finished her toilet.\n\nThe king got up earlier than usual, for he was so anxious to see the new\narrival; but before doing so he sent for the barber to shave him.\n\nThey looked everywhere for him, but without success; and at last, in\ndespair, they went to the bedroom of the new arrival, and, knocking at\nthe door, intimated the king\u2019s command that she should present herself.\n\nThe princess was ready; and, slipping past the courtiers, presented\nherself before the king.\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d inquired the king.\n\n\u201cI am the daughter of the King of Castille, as I informed your mercy\nyesterday,\u201d answered the princess.\n\n\u201cBut where, then, is my barber?\u201d rejoined the king.\n\n\u201cWhat does one king\u2019s daughter know about another king\u2019s barber?\u201d said\nthe princess.\n\nAt this moment the real barber presented himself, and humbly begged the\nking\u2019s pardon for having deceived him.\n\n\u201cBut who are you?\u201d roared the king. \u201cAre you a barber or a thief?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am the youngest son of a marquess,\u201d answered the youth, \u201ca barber by\ntrade, and affianced to the daughter of the King of Castille.\u201d\n\nThen the princess stepped forward and explained everything to the king,\nwho was so interested with what he heard, that the princess and the\nbarber had to tell the tale over and over again to him. Then he said\u2014\n\n\u201cI have been shaved by the King of Castille\u2019s daughter, and I have\ncourted his barber. I will not be again deceived. They shall now be man\nand wife for ever.\u201d\n\nThis was the wise King of Leon.\n\n\n\n\nTHE COBBLER OF BURGOS.\n\n\nNot far from the Garden of the Widows, in Burgos, lived a cobbler who\nwas so poor that he had not even smiled for many years. Every day he saw\nthe widow ladies pass his small shop on the way to and from the garden;\nbut in their bereavement it would not have been considered correct for\nthem to have bestowed a glance on him, and they required all the money\nthey could scrape together, after making ample provision for their\ncomfort\u2014which, as ladies, they did not neglect\u2014to pay for Masses for\nthe repose of the souls of their husbands, according to the doctrines of\nthe faith which was pinned on to them in childhood.\n\nThe priests, however, would sometimes bestow their blessing on Sancho\nthe cobbler; but beyond words he got nothing from the comforters of the\nwidows and of the orphans.\n\nSome of the great families would have their boots soled by him; but\nbeing very great and rich people, they demanded long credit, so that he\nwas heard to say that a rich man\u2019s money was almost as scarce as virtue.\n\nNow, one night, when he was about to close his shop, a lovely young\nwidow lady pushed her way by him into the shop, and sitting on the only\nchair in the room, she bid him close the door immediately, as she had\nsomething to say to him in confidence.\n\nBeing a true Spaniard, he showed no surprise, but obeyed orders, and\nstood before the young widow lady, who, after looking at him carefully\nfor a minute, implored him to go upstairs and see that the windows were\nsecure and the shutters barred and bolted.\n\nThis done, he again stood before her, when she showed signs of fear, and\nrequested him to ensure against the doors being burst open by piling\nwhat furniture he had against them and against the shutters; and then,\nassuring herself that she was safe, she exclaimed\u2014\n\n\u201cAh, friend Sancho, it is good to beware of evil tongues. I come to you\nbecause I know you to be honest and silent. To-night you must sleep on\nthe roof; get out through the skylight, and I will rest here.\u201d\n\nTo refuse a lady\u2019s commands, however singular they may be, is not in\nthe nature of a Spaniard, so Sancho got out through the skylight, when\nthe young widow began screaming, \u201cLet me out, kind people\u2014let me out!\u201d\n\nThe cobbler was now very much afraid of the consequences, especially as\nthe night watchmen were banging against the street door, which they soon\nforced, knocking all the furniture which had been placed against it into\nthe middle of the room.\n\nWhen inside, they discovered the lovely young widow, who exclaimed\u2014\n\n\u201cGood men, I am Guiomar, of Torrezon, widow of the noble Pedro de\nTorrezon, and because my late husband was owing Sancho for soling a pair\nof boots, I came here to pay the debt; but Sancho would have detained me\nagainst my will. He is concealed on the roof of the house, and if you\nleave me here he will murder me.\u201d\n\nThen she naturally fainted and screamed for so long a time that the\nstreet was soon full of people who, hearing what had happened, cried out\nagainst Sancho.\n\nThe watchmen having secured him, he was led before the alcaide, and,\nbeing a poor man, he was sent to prison until such time as Donna\nGuiomar should feel disposed to pardon him.\n\nAt the end of a year Donna Guiomar obtained his liberty, but on the\ncondition that he should forthwith proceed to Rome and do penance, which\nwas to count for the benefit of her deceased husband.\n\nThis act of piety on her part was very much approved of by the priests,\nwho required of Sancho that during the whole of his pilgrimage there he\nshould not shave, nor have his hair nor his nails cut. He was,\nfurthermore, to wear a suit of horse-hair cloth next to his skin, and\nwas to subsist solely on onions, garlic, maize bread, and pure water.\n\nBut liberty is so sweet that Sancho did not mind his hard fare, and he\nwent on his way to Rome repeating penitential prayers, while his hair\nand beard grew until his head and face were nearly hidden.\n\nArrived at Rome, the people wondered much to see such a strange-looking\nbeing; but when he opened his mouth to inquire his way to St. Peter\u2019s,\nso strong was the smell of onions and garlic that the people, accustomed\nas they were to these vegetables, could not stand against it, and as\nSancho spoke in a foreign tongue they could not have understood him\nvery easily.\n\nAt last he met a priest who was kind enough to listen to him, and he\nsaid he would be allowed audience of the Pope next morning with other\npilgrims, but that meantime he had better confess what his fault had\nbeen.\n\nSancho recounted all about the lovely young widow, and the priest very\nproperly admonished him for having dared to frighten a lady whose\nanxiety respecting her deceased husband was quite enough of sorrow\nwithout having it added to by being forcibly detained by a cobbler.\n\n\u201cIt is a pity,\u201d said the worthy priest, \u201cthat you were not handed over\nto the inquisitorial brothers, for they would have burned you before you\nwere allowed to import the odour of all the fields of Spanish onions and\ngarlic into the Eternal City. It is a sign of the bad times that are\napproaching when errant cobblers are allowed to vitiate the precincts of\nSt. Peter\u2019s with their pestilential breath. To-morrow you will be\nregaled with a view\u2014mind, only a view\u2014of his holiness\u2019s toe, and then\nyou must depart this city.\u201d\n\nSancho recognized the truth of what the good priest said, and, having\nrefreshed himself with some more onions and a glass of water, he lay\ndown to sleep behind one of the large stone pillars and slept until next\nmorning, when the large bell of the cathedral awoke him. He then hurried\nin to the presence of the Pope, nor had he much difficulty in so doing,\nfor the other pilgrims were glad to get out of his way. Bowing low\nbefore the golden chair, he exclaimed\u2014\n\n    \u201cOne weary soul, though cobbler he by trade,\n      Comes here to seek a pardon for his sin;\n    Most holy father, ere the daylight fade,\n                          Oh, let me in!\n\n    \u201cFrom sunny Spain, where runs the Arlanzon,\n      To thee, oh, father, come I now to crave\n    That thou wilt raise Don Pedro Torrezon\n                          From restless grave,\n\n    \u201cAnd to his widow him restore again.\n      This done, dismiss me to my home in peace,\n    To be thy servant as a priest in Spain,\n                          And faith increase.\u201d\n\nTo which the Pope replied\u2014\n\n    \u201cWe smelt thee from afar, oh, son of Spain;\n      We know thy errand, and we grant thy prayer.\n    Where onions shed their perfume, son, remain,\n                          Thy presence spare.\n\n    \u201cYes, spare us all thy Spanish odours strong;\n      Return unto thy country, Sancho\u2014go;\n    And as a blessing on thy journey long,\n                          Stoop, kiss our toe.\u201d\n\nAnd when Sancho got back to Burgos he was met by Don Pedro de Torrezon,\nwho, half in anger and half in sorrow, exclaimed\u2014\n\n    \u201cGood Sancho, I would spend eternity\n    Surrounded by the pains of purgat\u2019ry,\n    Than be restored unto this mortal life,\n    Where purgat\u2019ry is but the name for wife.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nBARBARA, THE GRAZIER\u2019S WIFE.\n\n\nWhen Spain was fortunately in possession of the enlightened Moors a\nspirit of chivalry pervaded all classes, which degenerated after the\ndeparture of Boabdil from Granada.\n\nThe Moorish blood permeated the veins of the majority of the Spaniards;\nbut a religious despotism completely subdued the minds of all, and\nSpain, under the yoke of the Jesuits, became a land more famed for its\n_autos da f\u00e9_ than for its progress in the fine arts and sciences,\nwhich, to a very great extent, were ignored.\n\nSome there were, however, in whom the blood of the Moors was stronger\nthan the faith in their new religion, which, however good in the\nabstract, was most pernicious in its consequences.\n\nIt has been the abuse, not the use, of the Christian religion which has\nmade of the Spaniard what his conqueror, the Moor, would have most\nloathed.\n\nIn the province of Galliza is situated the village of Porrinho, lying in\na beautiful valley, and surrounded by meadow-land and fields of maize.\n\nHere lived the merry grazier, Sebastian de las Cabras, famous for his\nencounters with wolves, but looked down upon by his neighbours because\nit was known that he was descended from the Moors.\n\nIn all the village there was not a man could handle the quarter-staff\nlike Sebastian, and so correct was his aim that, with a sling, he would\nat a hundred yards hurl a stone and hit a bull between the eyes, and so\nkill it.\n\nWith his knife he was equally skilful, for he could use the blade to\npick up the oil from his plate instead of licking it up with a spoon,\nor, in a quarrel, make it find a sheath in the leg or arm of a rival.\n\nNow, this Sebastian, with all his ingenuity and merriment, had, like\nmost men, a grievance; but, unlike most men\u2019s grievances, his was\nagainst the good St. Vincent, whose patched-up body (some of it, having\ndecayed, being filled up with wax) is entombed in different cathedrals\nthroughout Spain and Portugal, each cathedral professing to possess the\nveritable body of the veritable saint.\n\nBut in this plurality of St. Vincent there is nothing singular; for did\nthey not fill three large ships with the eye-teeth of good St. James of\nCompostella when they were written for from Rome, and did not the Pope\ndeclare them all genuine teeth?\n\nSpain, in her religious fanaticism, is no more like other countries than\nSebastian de las Cabras was like other men.\n\nSt. Vincent, be it known, is worshipped in the Peninsula as the guardian\nsaint against that horrible scourge, small-pox.\n\nIn Galliza it is declared all diseases and misfortunes in life were\nproduced in order that there should be patron saints; and this is just\nas true as the saying in Leon, that wheat was produced so that there\nmight be stomachs.\n\nSebastian de las Cabras cared neither for the saints nor for the\nsayings; he feared neither the law nor the evil one; but he quailed\nbefore his wife, D. Barbara, whose beauty, like that of the demolished\nalcazar at Ecija, was a thing of the past.\n\nD. Barbara was, however, a woman who made herself respected; and of all\nthe saints in the calendar there was none for whom she had so great a\nveneration as St. Vincent, who had saved her when suffering from\nsmall-pox.\n\nNot the three wives who got up from their graves in Merida and appeared\nto the husband to whom they had all been married, produced a more\nstartling effect on that widower than D. Barbara on her husband\nSebastian, when she would visit him as he was tending his herds on the\nmountain sides, for no woman ever had such a tongue. Even the Archbishop\nof Compostella, in pity to the clergy of his diocese, had ordained that\nD. Barbara needed no confession. He absolved her from all sin for the\nlove and veneration she had for St. Vincent, but blamed the good saint\nfor the mercy he had shown D. Barbara.\n\nSebastian de las Cabras had been to the tombs of St. Vincent in\nCompostella, in Salamanca, Cadiz, Malaga, and Seville, to induce the\ngood saint to undo his good work; but the bodies were inexorable, and\nBarbara continued to plague him with her tongue, and to mark him with\nher nails.\n\nSeeing that he could get no relief for his home troubles from St.\nVincent, Sebastian recollected the faith of his fathers, and bethought\nof applying for advice to an old Moor who lived in the neighbouring\nvillage.\n\nTo this wise man he therefore went; and, after explaining matters, he\ndeclared that he bore no ill-will to his wife, but rather to the saint,\nfor that it was owing to him that D. Barbara was spared.\n\n\u201cIt is a difficult matter,\u201d said the Moor, \u201cand one that will require\ngreat consideration and prudence before attempting to master it. You\nChristians make saints to serve you, and because your interests are not\nall alike you blame the saints for not doing what is obviously\nimpossible. Now, I know that he whom you call St. Vincent loved the\ntongue of a woman no better than the scimitar of the Saracen, and for\nthis reason did he probably prefer to spare the life of D. Barbara than\nbe importuned by her in his place of rest.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, then, would you advise me to do, for with D. Barbara I can no\nlonger live?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere are St. Nicholas, St. Tiburtius, St. Bartholomew, and others who\nequally fear the noise of a woman\u2019s tongue; but little St. Francis died\nstone-deaf, and being naturally of an envious disposition, nothing\nwould please him better than to revenge himself on his colleagues by\nfoisting D. Barbara on to them.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if little St. Francis be deaf, how shall I make him hear my\ncomplaint?\u201d demanded Sebastian.\n\n\u201cThou art no true Catholic if thou knowest not the weakness of the\nsaints in general, but of their keepers here on earth in particular.\nThou mayest shout thyself deaf, dance, and jump, but they may not hear\nthee; but if thou showest them the bright yellow gold thou wilt be heard\nand understood, even if thou hadst not a voice, and wert as dumb as thou\nwouldst wish D. Barbara to be,\u201d answered the Moor.\n\n\u201cI will away, then, to the market and sell some of my finest beasts, and\nthe money which I receive for them will I gladly bestow on little St.\nFrancis,\u201d said Sebastian.\n\nThe oxen were sold, and Sebastian hurried away with the money to the\nshrine of little St. Francis; and after devoutly praying, he proceeded\nto count out the gold pieces one by one; and great was his joy when he\nnoticed the saint commence to move, open his eyes, stretch out his\nhands, and declare that Sebastian\u2019s petition should be granted.\n\nThat very night when Sebastian and his wife were in bed, and the latter\nwas delivering a lengthy lecture on the coarseness and want of breeding\nin snoring when a lady was speaking, little St. Francis appeared at the\nbedside with a mirror in his hand.\n\n\u201cBarbara,\u201d said the saint, \u201cthy virtues are known to us, and as a reward\nwe have decreed that thou shalt be restored to youth and beauty, which\nthou shalt thyself behold when looking into this mirror; but beware no\nangry or vain words pass thy lips, for then will thy lack of modesty be\npunished by hideous old age and infirmity, therefore, beware!\u201d And\nsaying this, he left the now happy pair\u2014Barbara admiring herself in the\nmirror by the light of a cruse, and Sebastian enjoying that unbroken\nsleep which he had not known for years.\n\nThe mirror never passed out of D. Barbara\u2019s possession, and was never\nknown to leave her hand until her frame, gradually tired out by want of\nrest, succumbed to the fascination of little St. Francis\u2019s gift and the\nwisdom of the friendly Moor.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WATCHFUL SERVANT.\n\n\nThere was once a prince who was going to visit his lady-love, the only\ndaughter of a neighbouring king; and as he required the services of an\nattendant, he sent for his barber, who was known in the town for his\nvery good behaviour, as well as for his eccentric ways.\n\n\u201cPablo,\u201d said the prince, \u201cI want you to go with me to Granada to assist\nme on my journey. I will reward you handsomely, and you shall lack for\nnothing in the way of food. But you must don my livery, salute me in the\nfashion of Spain, hold my stirrup when I mount, and do everything that\nis required of a servant. Above all, you must not let me oversleep\nmyself, for otherwise I shall be late in arriving at Granada.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d answered the barber, \u201cI will be as true to you as the dog was to\nSt. Dominic. When you are sleeping I will be on guard, and when you are\nawake I will see that no harm approaches you; but I beg you not to be\nannoyed with me if, in trying to be of service to you, I do unwillingly\ncause you any annoyance.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood Pablo,\u201d continued the prince, \u201csay no more, but return to your\nshop, pack up your linen, and come here as soon as you can this evening.\nIf I am in bed when you arrive, you will know that it is because I must\nget up to-morrow morning by five o\u2019clock, and see to it that you let me\nnot sleep beyond that time.\u201d\n\nPablo hurried home, packed up his few articles of underclothing, and\nthen proceeded to the principal wine tavern to tell his friends of his\ngood fortune. They were all so pleased to hear of Pablo\u2019s good luck that\nthey drank to his health, and he returned the compliment so often that\nat last the wine was beginning to tell on him, so he bid his friends\ngood-bye and left, saying to himself, \u201cI must wake his highness at five\no\u2019clock.\u201d This he kept repeating so often that he had arrived at the\nlarge courtyard of the palace before he was aware of it.\n\nThe prince\u2019s bedroom looked into the courtyard, and Pablo saw by the dim\nlight that was burning in the room that the prince had retired to rest.\n\nAfraid lest the prince should think he had forgotten all about awaking\nhim, and that he might therefore be keeping awake, Pablo seized a long\ncane, with which he tapped at the window of the prince, and kept on\ntapping until the prince appeared, and opened the window, shouting out\u2014\n\n\u201cWho is there? Who wants me?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is I,\u201d said Pablo. \u201cI have not forgotten your orders; to-morrow\nmorning I will wake your highness at five.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery good, Pablo; but let me sleep awhile, or else I shall be tired\nto-morrow.\u201d\n\nAs soon as the prince had disappeared Pablo commenced thinking over all\nthe princes of whom he had heard, and he had become so interested in the\nsubject that when he heard the cock crow, imagining it was daybreak, he\nagain seized the cane and tapped loudly at the window.\n\nThe prince again lifted up the sash, and cried out\u2014\n\n\u201cWho is it? What do you want? Let me sleep, or else I shall be tired\nto-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d exclaimed the barber, \u201cthe cock has already crowed, and it must\nbe time to rise.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are mistaken,\u201d replied the prince, \u201cfor it is only half an hour ago\nsince you woke me; but I am not annoyed with you.\u201d\n\nPablo was now sorely troubled in his mind because he thought he might\ngive offence to the prince, and so he kept revolving in his mind all\nthat his mother had told him about the anger of princes, and how much it\nwas to be dreaded. This thought so perplexed him that he resolved on\nputting an end to the life of the cock that had caused the mistake. He\ntherefore proceeded to the poultry-yard close by, and seeing the\noffender surrounded by the hens, he made a rush at him, which set all\nthe fowls cackling as if a fox had broken in.\n\nThe prince, hearing the noise, hurried to the window, and in a loud\nvoice inquired what the noise was all about.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said Pablo, \u201cI was but trying to punish the disturber of your\nrest. I have got hold of him now, and your highness may go to sleep\nwithout further care, as I will not forget to waken you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d continued the prince, \u201cif you waken me again before it is time, I\nwill most decidedly punish you.\u201d Saying which he again retired to rest.\n\n\u201cSince the days when cocks crew in the Holy Land they have always\nbrought sorrow into this world,\u201d inwardly ejaculated Pablo. \u201cHis proper\nplace is in the pan, and that is where he should go if I had my way.\u201d\n\nAll at once Pablo commenced to feel very sleepy, so he walked up and\ndown the yard to keep awake; but becoming drowsy he sank on the ground,\nand was soon so fast asleep that he dreamt a nigger prince was attacking\nhim, which made him scream so terribly that it woke, not only the\nprince, but also all the dogs in the neighbourhood.\n\nThe prince again rushed to the window, and hearing Pablo scream out,\n\u201cDon\u2019t murder me, I will give you all!\u201d hurried down into the yard, and\nseeing how matters stood bestowed such a hearty kick on Pablo that he\njumped up.\n\nThe frightened barber beholding the prince near to him, took to his\nheels, and ran home as fast as he could.\n\nWhen he had got into bed he began regretting that he had run away from\nthe prince\u2019s service, so he got up again, saying to himself, \u201cThe\nprince shall have a sharper spur than I could ever buckle on;\u201d and,\nproceeding to the principal door of the palace, he wrote the following\nwords with chalk, \u201cPablo has gone before your highness to court the\nPrincess of Granada himself.\u201d\n\nThis had the desired effect, for when the prince arose in the morning\nand was leaving the palace alone, he read the words, and they caused him\nto be so jealous that he performed the distance in half the time he\nwould otherwise have taken.\n\nPablo after that used to say that \u201ca jealous man on horseback is first\ncousin to a flash of lightning and to a true Spaniard.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSILVER BELLS.\n\n\nIt was in a lovely pine-wood that little Mirabella wandered lonely and\nhungry. The sand under her feet was very cool, and the tufted pine-trees\nsheltered her from the fierce rays of the sun.\n\nThrough an avenue of tall but bare pine-trees she could see the big sea,\nwhich she looked upon for the first time. Faint and hungry as she was,\nshe could not help wishing to be nearer the waves; but she recollected\nwhat her father had once told her, that little children should be\ncareful not to go too near the sea when they are alone.\n\nHer father, however, was dead. He was King of the Silver Isles, and for\nhis goodness had been loved by all his subjects. Mirabella was his only\nchild; and her mother having married again, she wanted to get rid of\nMirabella, so that her little boy Gliglu might inherit the crown. So\nshe ordered one of her servants to lead Mirabella into the pine-wood far\naway and leave her there, hoping the wolves would find her and eat her.\n\nWhen Mirabella was born, her aunt, who was a fairy, gave her a silver\nbell, which she tied around the child\u2019s neck with a fairy chain that\ncould not be broken. In vain did her mother try to take it from her; no\nscissors could cut through it, and her strength could not break it, so\nthat wherever Mirabella went the silver bell tinkled merrily.\n\nNow, it so happened that on the second night on which she was out the\nsilver bell tinkled so loudly, that a wolf who happened to be near,\nhearing it, approached her and said\u2014\n\n    \u201cSilver bell, silver bell, do not fear;\n    To obey you, Mirabella, I am here.\u201d\n\nAt first the little girl was very much afraid, because she had heard of\nthe cruelty of wolves; but when he repeated the words, she said\u2014\n\n\u201cDear Mr. Wolf, if you would be so kind as to bring me my mamma, I would\nbe _so_ obliged.\u201d\n\nOff ran the wolf without saying another word, and Mirabella commenced\njumping for joy, causing her silver bell to tinkle more than ever. A\nfox, hearing it, came up to her and said\u2014\n\n    \u201cSilver bell, silver bell, do not fear;\n    To obey you, Mirabella, I am here.\u201d\n\nThen she said, \u201cOh, dear Mr. Fox, I am _so_ hungry! I wish you would\nbring me something to eat.\u201d\n\nOff went the fox, and in a short time he returned with a roast fowl,\nbread, a plate, knife, and fork, all nicely placed in a basket. On the\ntop of these things was a clean white cloth, which she spread on the\nground, and on which she placed her dinner. She was indeed thankful to\nthe fox for his kindness, and patted his head, which made him wag his\nthick brush. She enjoyed her dinner very much; but she was very thirsty.\nShe thought she would try tinkling her bell, and no sooner had she done\nso than she heard the tinkling of another bell in the distance, coming\nnearer and nearer to her. She stood on tiptoe, and she saw a stream of\nwater flowing towards her, on which floated a pretty canoe. When it got\nup to her it stopped, and inside the canoe was a silver mug; but on the\nbows of the canoe was hanging a silver bell just like her own.\n\n    \u201cSilver bell, silver bell, do not fear;\n    When thy mother comes, step in here.\u201d\n\nSo sang the canoe; but she could not understand why she should get into\nthe canoe if her mother came, because she loved her mother, and thought\nher mother loved her. Anyhow she took hold of the mug, and, filling it\nwith water, drank it up. Water, which is always the most refreshing of\nall drinks, was what the tired little girl most needed, and as her\nfather had brought her up very carefully and properly, she had never\ntasted anything stronger; but her thirst made her enjoy the water more\nthan she ever had.\n\nSuddenly she heard some one screaming for help, and the screams came\nnearer and nearer to her. She turned round and saw the wolf bearing her\nmother on his back, and however much she tried to get off she could not,\nbecause the wolf threatened to bite her. Springing up to Mirabella\u2019s\nside, the wolf said\u2014\n\n    \u201cSilver bell, silver bell, do not fear;\n    To obey you, Mirabella, I am here.\u201d\n\nThe wicked mother now jumped off his back, and commenced scolding\nMirabella for having sent for her. She said that as soon as she got back\nto the palace she would make a law that all the wolves should be\nkilled, and that if Mirabella ever dared return she should be smothered.\nThe poor little girl felt very miserable, and was afraid that her mother\nmight kill her, so she stepped into the canoe, and said\u2014\n\n    \u201cBear me where my father dwells,\n    Tinkle, tinkle, silver bells.\u201d\n\nThe stream continued to flow, and as the canoe moved on she saw her\nmother turned into a cork-tree, and she bid good-bye to the wolf and the\nfox. On sped the boat, and it soon neared the big sea; but Mirabella\nfelt no fear, for the stream struck out across the ocean, and the waves\ndid not come near her. For three days and nights the silver bells\ntinkled and the canoe sped on; and when the morning of the fourth day\ncame, she saw that they were approaching a beautiful island, on which\nwere growing many palm-trees, which are called sacred palms. The grass\nwas far greener than any she had ever seen, for the sun was more\nbrilliant, but not so fierce, and when the canoe touched the shore\u2014oh,\njoy!\u2014she saw her dear father.\n\n    \u201cSilver bell, silver bell, do not fear;\n    To protect thee, Mirabella, I am here.\u201d\n\nShe was _so_ pleased to see her father again and to hear him speak. It\nwas so nice to be loved, to be cared for, to be spoken kindly to.\nEverything seemed to welcome her; the boughs of the sacred palms waved\nin the summer breeze, and the humming-birds, flitting about, seemed like\nprecious stones set in a glorious blaze of light. Her father was not\nchanged very much; he looked somewhat younger and stronger, and as he\nlifted her in his arms his face seemed handsomer and his voice more\nwelcome. She felt no pang of sorrow, she had no fears, for she was in\nher father\u2019s arms, to which the fairy silver bells had led her.\n\nFarther up in the island she saw groups of other children running to\nmeet her, all with silver bells around their necks; and some there were\namong them whom she had known in the Silver Islands. These had been\nplaymates of hers, but had left before her.\n\nSo periods of light sped on, in which joy was her companion, when,\nlooking into a deep but very clear pond, she saw a gnarled cork-tree,\nwhich seemed to have been struck by lightning. Long did she stand there\ngazing into it wondering where she had seen that tree. All at once she\nspied a canoe passing close by the tree, in which stood a young man,\nwhom she recognized as her step-brother Gliglu. He seemed to cast a\nsorrowful look at the tree, and then she recollected the fate of her\nmother. At this moment her silver bell fell off, and, sinking into the\npond, it went down\u2014down, until it reached the tree, and, tinkling,\nsaid\u2014\n\n    \u201cTake thy shape again, O queen!\u201d\n\nThen Mirabella saw her mother step into the canoe; and tinkling bells in\na short space of time told her that others dear and near to her had\narrived, and, running down to the shore, she cried out\u2014\n\n    \u201cSilver bells, O mother, wait you here,\n    Nought but joy with father, nought to fear.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nKING ROBIN.\n\n\nThere was once a little boy called Sigli, who, I am sorry to say, took\ngreat pleasure in catching and killing little birds. His father was a\nnotorious robber, so it was not surprising that Sigli gave way to acts\nof cruelty. His mother died when he was little more than a year old, and\nhe did not know any other relation. In the north of Portugal, bands of\nrobbers used to frequent the roads, and some of them lived in strong\ncastles, and had a large retinue of followers. In time of war these\nrobber-chiefs would side with the king\u2019s party, because after the war\nwas over they received large grants of land for the assistance they had\nrendered the sovereign. Sometimes when the neighbouring kings of Spain\ninvaded Portugal, these robbers proved of great advantage in repelling\nthe invaders; but in following up their victories they would despoil\nall the churches in the enemy\u2019s country of the gold and silver idols,\nwhich the priests had caused to be made in order to get the ignorant\npeasantry to make offerings of money, corn, and oil, in exchange for\nwhich the priests, in the name of the idols, offered all those who gave,\npardon of their sins.\n\nNow, Sigli\u2019s father had on many occasions robbed gold and silver idols,\nand had murdered a few brethren of the Holy Inquisition, who, in their\nturn, were well known for the wicked deeds they had committed, such as\nburning Christian men and women who did not, and could not, profess the\npopish faith. But in course of time the Jesuits, for so they were\ncalled, made common cause against these robbers, and either put them to\ndeath, or obliged them to leave off robbing churches and take to\ncheating the peasantry.\n\nSigli, as I said before, was a very cruel boy, and he was the terror of\nall the birds and beasts. He would lay traps for them, and when he had\ncaught them he would take pleasure in tormenting them, which clearly\nproved that he was not a Christian, nor possessed of any refinement. But\nhe took more pleasure in catching Robin-redbreasts than in anything\nelse, and for this purpose he used bird-lime. He had caught and killed\nso many that at last King Robin of Birdland issued invitations to all\nhis feathered subjects and to the beasts of the field, asking them to a\nmeeting at which they might discuss the best means of putting Sigli to\ndeath, or punishing him in some other way, for the cruelty of which he\nwas guilty towards them.\n\nAmong the many who accepted the invitation was an old fox, the first of\nthe Reynards, and when it came to his turn to speak, he said that as\nSigli was so fond of catching redbreasts with bird-lime, he (Mr.\nReynard) would propose catching Sigli in the same manner; and when\ncaught they might discuss how they should punish him, either by pecking\nand biting him, or by getting the wolves to eat him. In order to carry\nout this idea, he suggested that the monkeys should be asked to prepare\nthe bird-lime, which they might use with safety by oiling their hands,\nand then gradually make a man of bird-lime close to the robber chief\u2019s\ncastle. Sigli would probably take it for some poor man, and hit it, and\nthen he would not be able to get away.\n\nThis idea was accepted by all in general, and by Mrs. Queen Bee in\nparticular, who owed Sigli and his father a grudge for destroying her\nhive; and the monkeys cheerfully set to work, while King Robin watched\nthe putting together of the figure, and was very useful in giving it\nmost of the artistic merit it possessed when finished. The making took\none whole night, and next morning, almost opposite the castle, stood the\nbird-lime figure about the size of a man.\n\nSigli, seeing it from his dressing-room window, and taking it for a\nbeggar, was so enraged that he ran out without his shoes and stockings,\nand, without waiting to look at the man, he struck at him with his right\nhand so that it stuck firmly to the figure.\n\n\u201cLet go,\u201d he cried, \u201cor I will kick you!\u201d And as the figure did not let\ngo he kicked it, so that his foot was glued. \u201cLet go my foot,\u201d he cried\nout, \u201cor I will kick you with the other;\u201d and, doing so, both his legs\nwere glued to it. Then he knocked up against the figure, and the more he\ndid so the more firmly he was glued.\n\nThen his father, hearing his cries, rushed out, and said\u2014\n\n\u201cOh, you bad man! I will squeeze you to death for hurting my dear\nSigli!\u201d\n\nNo sooner said than done, and the robber chief was glued on to the\nbird-lime figure.\n\nThe screams of the two attracted the attention of the servants, who,\nseeing their robber master, as they thought, murdering his little boy,\nran away and never came back again.\n\nKing Robin was now master of the situation, and he directed ten thousand\nbees under General Bumble, and another ten thousand wasps under Colonel\nHornet, to fall on the robber and cruel Sigli and sting them to death.\nBut this was hardly necessary, as the wriggling of their bodies so fixed\nthem to the figure that they died of suffocation.\n\nThen King Robin ordered the wolves to dig a large grave, into which the\nmonkeys rolled Sigli, his father, and the bird-lime figure; and after\ncovering it up, they all took charge of the castle, and lived there for\nmany years undisturbed, acknowledging King Robin as their king; and if\nthe Jesuits did not turn them out, I am certain they are still there.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WICKED KING.\n\n\nThere was once a king who was so wicked that he would not allow any\nwidows to live in his kingdom, because he was certain that they had\ncaused the death of their husbands; nor would he admit of any fat man or\nwoman, as he was afraid that they would eat up everything in the\nkingdom.\n\nHe was also very proud and arrogant, and if any man happened to be\ntaller than himself, he would give him the choice of being lowered to a\nproper height by either having his head or his legs cut off.\n\nHis subjects were so afraid of him and of his laws, that the married\nwomen would not let their husbands go out of their sight, lest any harm\nshould happen to them, and if they turned at all pale, or had broken\nsleep, or had lost their appetites, they would nurse them night and day.\nSo afraid were they of becoming widows that they always agreed with\ntheir husbands on all points, lest by disagreeing they should bring\nabout an attack of indigestion, or something worse that might produce\ndeath.\n\nAnd when their children commenced to grow rapidly, their fears were\ndoubled lest they should become taller than the king; for if they fed\nthem on pudding, which does not promote growth, they incurred the danger\nof their becoming fat; and if they fed them on meat, so as to make them\nlean, they would probably grow tall.\n\nIt very soon became evident that there were more hunchbacks in that\ncountry than in any other; for as soon as the children were approaching\nthe forbidden height, their parents would suspend heavy weights from\ntheir shoulders, so that their backs became rounded and eventually\nhumped.\n\nThe young men, when they were at an age to marry, found it very\ndifficult to get any woman to have them, because they were afraid of\nbecoming widows, and also because so many of the men were humpbacked.\n\nBut, notwithstanding the king\u2019s wickedness, it was admitted by the\nmarried men that their condition had considerably improved.\n\nThere was a wide road made round the cities and towns, on which all who\nwere inclined to be stout, both men and women, would run until they were\nout of breath, and jump over hurdles; and there were so many of these\npeople that the revenues of the Church commenced to suffer, owing to the\ndecreased demand for \u201cbulls,\u201d as they willingly imposed long fasts on\nthemselves.\n\nNow, in the chief city of this country there was a very wise man, well\nversed in the law and in concocting drugs, for he was the public\nexecutioner and the chemist of the place. To him, therefore, went a\ndeputation of the people to lay their grievances before him; and after\nthe spokesman had finished what he had to say, the executioner looked\nvery wise, and, after considering awhile, he said\u2014\n\n\u201cOur king\u2019s predecessor was held to be just and generous because he\nallowed every man to retain a fifth of his produce for the maintenance\nof his family, and the tax he imposed on this fifth part was always\nreadily paid.\u201d Here he touched the edge of his sharp axe and smiled; and\nthe deputation exclaimed\u2014\n\n\u201cQuite right; so it was.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, the present king,\u201d continued the wise man, again feeling the edge\nof his axe, \u201chas magnanimously increased your loyal tribute to him by\none part in a hundred of the produce of the land, and yet you are not\nsatisfied!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king\u2019s generosity we all feel,\u201d said the deputation; \u201cbut, if we\nmay be allowed to express an opinion to you, sir, we would\u2014\u2014\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly you may,\u201d interrupted the man of drugs, running his hand\nquickly over the axe\u2014\u201ccertainly you may; why should you not?\u201d\n\nBy this time the chief spokesman had got behind the others, and it was\nvery evident that the members of the deputation were becoming aware that\nthe logic of the executioner was too sharp for them.\n\nSeeing that they were all silent, the executioner went on to say that\nthe king had, in his opinion, been extremely considerate; for he had, by\nthe law against widows, contributed to the happiness and long life of\nthe husbands; and, by enacting that no man should exceed a certain\nheight or stoutness, they had economized in many ways, for they ate\nless, and their clothes would cost them less. In fact, he saw no reason\nfor dissatisfaction; but as they had come to him as a deputation, he\nfelt it to be his duty to place their supposed grievances before the\nking, and he, the executioner, felt certain that the king would reply to\nthem in a suitable manner. And having said this he raised the axe to the\nlight to see that there was no notch on the edge, which caused the\ndeputation to tremble most violently, and to assure the executioner that\nthey were perfectly satisfied, and desired to withdraw.\n\nThe executioner, however, would not allow them to retire\u2014for the\ngrievances of a people should not be withheld from the king\u2019s ear; but\nthe members of the deputation became so frightened that they made their\nescape through the windows as fast as they could. And when the king\nheard all about it he remarked that \u201cFolly had entered with dignity by\nthe door, and Wisdom had unceremoniously escaped through the window.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE PALACE OF THE ENCHANTED MOORS.\n\n\nOverlooking the river Douro, close to Freixo, are some huge rocks,\nsituated on the brink of an almost perpendicular eminence. To this spot\ndo congregate, so it is reported, the souls of unbaptized children, who\nmake the midnight hour hideous with their shrieks when the tempest is\nhurrying down through the valley and over the snow-capped hills. When\nthe wind is at its highest do these souls of the lost utter their weird\nshrieks, so nigh akin unto the howling of the wind that only the\nneighbouring villagers pretend to be able to distinguish between the\nclamouring voices of the unbaptized and the howling caused by the fitful\ngusts of the wintry blast as it rushes impetuously among the rocks and\ndown the precipices.\n\nOn such nights will the farmer\u2019s wife light the tapers around the image\nof good St. Laurence, patron of the winds, and calling her household\naround her, the following verses are intoned\u2014\n\n    \u201cGood St. Laurence, keep us free\n    From the sin of heresy;\n    Lull the angry winds to rest,\n    Still be thou our honoured guest,\n                        By our fathers prized.\n\n    \u201cDrive all goblins from our door,\n    Those whom Heaven doth ignore\u2014\n    Witches, demons, bogeys all,\n    May they sink and may they fall\n                        With the unbaptized.\u201d\n\nAt times it takes longer to appease the wrath of St. Laurence than at\nothers; but with daylight the courage of the worshippers revives, and\nthe souls of the unbaptized seek rest, although the winds may continue\nto howl.\n\nMany centuries ago the palace of the now enchanted Moors at Freixo was\nthe glory of the place. Although considerably smaller, it was after the\nstyle of the Alhambra, at Granada; but it was held in almost greater\nesteem than the principal residence of the Moorish kings, for in a\nmagnificent stable was lodged the ass on which the prophet Mohamed was\nsupposed to have ascended to Paradise. It seems that the chosen\nquadruped, unaccustomed to the pastures of the Mohamedan Paradise, had\nescaped, and descended on earth close to the palace, or alcazar, at\nFreixo, where he was found one morning by the dwellers when they were on\ntheir way to the mosque.\n\nHe was a fine specimen of an ass, and worthy of the Mohamedan creed.\nTradition hints at a miller having laid claim to him; but as he could\noffer no proofs why the ass should not have been in Paradise, and seeing\nthat the ass was as white as the prophet\u2019s, the miller was ordered to\nlook for his donkey elsewhere, as this was the ass of the prophet.\n\nHow long this favoured quadruped lived is not recorded, but no doubts\nhave been raised as to his eventual demise; and he, too, was heard\nbraying furiously from his resting-place when the winds blew high.\n\nBut few vestiges are now left of this once splendid alcazar. Time defied\nits ornamental turrets and richly chased walls, and levelled them with\nthe ground. Only the surrounding rocks have remained, and with them many\ntraditions. These the inhabitants of the district have preserved intact,\nor maybe added to their interest by investing them with a semblance to\ntruth which renders them all the more worthy of preservation, as being\nstepping-stones carrying us back to a long past.\n\nBut even where such doubtful lore holds the people in awe, a few may be\nfound who, although rejecting that part of the tradition which is\nevidently but the fruit of a fertile imagination, or of religious\nfanaticism, recognize in these legends the preservation of a still\nunwritten history, to whose identification with facts the ruins of many\na Moslem building of rare architectural beauty attest.\n\nAnd if, after many a sanguinary fight, the Cross was victorious over the\nCrescent, the Christian population of the Iberic Peninsula must admit\nthat the faint vestiges of beauty in their architecture of to-day have\nan Arabic origin; that to their Moorish conquerors they owe much of the\ndaring and endurance which characterized the generation of great\nnavigators, as also to them was due the introduction of many of the\nuseful arts and sciences.\n\nThe traveller will now look in vain for the alcazar of El Rachid at\nFreixo. The mighty rocks alone mark the spot, and naught remains of art\nto please the eye. Traditionary lore may interest him, but he must be\nready to listen to it with all the additions which a gross superstition\ncan alone invent or believe.\n\nHere, then, is it recorded that Al Rachid held a Christian maiden\ncaptive for many years. That she was as good as she was beautiful goes\nwithout further remark. Maria das Dores, for so she is named by her\nchroniclers, was one of those splendid women worthy to be the mothers of\nthat succeeding generation of heroes who overthrew the Moors on the\nplains of Ourique.\n\nMaria was the daughter of a very wealthy farmer who resided close to the\nmouth of the river Minho. It was her duty to work with the farm\nlabourers in the field, and she would mingle her sweet voice with theirs\nwhen singing hymns to the Virgin as they plied their hoes.\n\nOften had Al Rachid seen her at work from his hiding-place in a\nneighbouring forest. He loved the maiden, although he had reason to\nbelieve she was a Christian; but he knew that she had given her love to\nanother, and could, therefore, not be his unless he took her by force.\n\nOne day, at vesper-time, she did not return to the farm with the\nlabourers. Search was made for her everywhere, but she could not be\nfound. Then it was imagined she might be in conversation with her lover;\nbut, on inquiry, he had not seen her.\n\nMounted parties scoured the country all around, but in vain; she had not\nbeen seen, and there was no doubt entertained but that she had been\nlured into the forest, and become the captive of Al Rachid.\n\nBut, then, nobody had seen the Moorish chief that day. True; but the\nMoors were enchanters, and it was known that they could make\nsubterranean passages which closed behind them so as to prevent their\nbeing pursued.\n\nThe wise woman of the district was therefore called into requisition,\nand she, having consulted the astrolabe and made a fire of pine needles,\ndiscovered the direction in which the fugitives were going. Mounting\ntheir horses, and led by the wise woman, who bestrode a splendid white\nmule, they galloped off, and after two days\u2019 hard riding they distinctly\nheard the sound of a horse\u2019s hoofs, but they could not see the horse.\n\nThen they knew that Al Rachid was making use of the enchanted passage\nwhich they could not hope to find, and they had to content themselves\nwith following the sound until they came within sight of Al Rachid\u2019s\npalace.\n\nThey were now in the enemy\u2019s country, and with their little force they\ncould not successfully besiege the palace, so, much against their will,\nthey returned home.\n\nThere was only one means of rescuing the captive maiden, and this would\ntake time. No Christian man or woman could gain admittance to the\nenchanted passage, and no Moslem could be found willing to attempt the\nrescue. Therefore they hit upon a plan of securing the services of a\nheretic. A child had been born in the village, and him, it was resolved,\nthey should not baptize. When old enough, he should be entrusted with\nthe task of rescue, and being unbaptized he would gain admittance to all\nthe enchanted places.\n\nYears rolled by, and the youth had attained the age of thirteen, when he\nwas informed of the mission on which it was intended to send him. Being\nof a daring disposition, he courted danger, and buckling on his sword,\nand bearing his shield, he left the farmer\u2019s house; and, accompanied by\nthe wise woman, he directed his steps to the forest. When the two had\nreached an old oak-tree, the wise woman repeated the following words\nthree times\u2014\n\n    \u201cHere stands an unbaptized\n    To thread the subterranean way;\u201d\n\nand then she knocked with her staff three times on the ground, which\nopened, and the youthful heretic boldly descended, the earth closing\nabove him. Before him was a magnificent display of jewels studding the\nwalls on each side, whose brilliancy at first dazzled him. Getting more\naccustomed to the strong light, he discovered a coal-black horse, fully\ncaparisoned, standing by his side, as if ready for him to mount; but he\nwas not to be tempted, for he would rather trust to his legs than to a\nstrange horse. Then when he had walked some distance he came to a river,\non which there was a boat rowed by six lovely maidens, who asked him to\nget in, and they would row him across. But he would not be tempted, and\nhe boldly waded the stream and crossed over. Having proceeded a little\nfurther, however, he heard the piteous cry of a child, and, hastening\nforward, he saw a lovely little boy, dressed in the Oriental fashion,\nwho besought him, with tears in his eyes, to carry him a little way, for\nhe was very tired and had still a long way to go. He could not refuse\nhim, and, stooping slightly, raised him in his arms; but no sooner had\nhe done so, than this little boy turned into a giant, who, twining his\narms around the heretic\u2019s neck, would have strangled him, but that,\nbeing unbaptized, he could not be killed. After many attempts to\nstrangle the intruder the giant relaxed his hold, and as suddenly\ndisappeared.\n\nThe heretic, after a time, came to a standstill, for he was confronted\nby total darkness. Nothing daunted, however, he drew his sword and hit\nout, so that the blade, striking against the sides of the passage,\ncaused the jewels to emit sparks, and these lit up thousands of lamps.\nIn the distance he saw two enormous tigers, each having two heads. They\nseemed to be ready to tear him to pieces, but, on observing him advance\nsword in hand, they ran away.\n\nAt the end of the third day he had walked so quickly that he stood\nbefore the secret entrance to the alcazar of Al Rachid. The ponderous\ngates were wide open, but he could not enter because of an enormous frog\nthat blocked up the way, and emitted flames of fire from its mouth and\neyes. Do what he could, there was no getting near the hideous creature.\n\nHe had recourse to stratagem, and, pretending not to be afraid of the\nanimal, he threw his sword over the frog\u2019s back, exclaiming, \u201cTake that;\nI fear thee not!\u201d\n\nThe frog, turning to get hold of the sword, offered an opportunity to\nthe heretic of jumping on its back, which he did, and, digging his spurs\ninto its sides, he obliged it to advance, when, as it passed by his\nsword, he dexterously picked it up, and was not at all particular how he\nused it about the creature\u2019s head.\n\nThe more he struck at the frog, the more fierce were the flames of fire\nit emitted; and Al Rachid, hearing the noise, hurried to the entrance to\nsee what was the matter, when he found himself enveloped in flames which\nthe heretic forced the frog to throw out until the cruel Moor was\ncompletely burned.\n\nThen at one stroke he cut off the animal\u2019s head, and at the same moment\nthe castle vanished, and where it had previously stood the heretic found\nMaria, the farmer\u2019s daughter, who was overjoyed at her deliverance.\n\nThe two wended their way back to their native village, where great\nrejoicings awaited them; and seeing that the services of the heretic\nwould in all probability no longer be required, he was baptized with as\nlittle delay as possible, and for the rescue he had effected the rich\nfarmer amply rewarded him, while the Church accorded him plenary\nabsolution for his past heresy.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEVEN PIGEONS.\n\n\nOn a deserted part of the rock-bound Cantabrian coast, a poor fisherman,\nnamed Pedro, discovered a lovely maiden, magnificently dressed, combing\nher long jet-black hair with a golden comb studded with diamonds.\n\nIt was still early morning, and the sun had not attained its greatest\npower; and as the tide was at its lowest, an innumerable number of ponds\nwere formed by the rocks which, for a distance of half a mile, were left\nbare by the receding sea.\n\nSeated near to one of these ponds, and cooling her feet in the water,\nsat this lovely maiden; and she was so intent on performing her toilet\nthat she did not perceive Pedro, who, thinking she was a mermaid, and\nmight therefore cast a spell over him, hid behind a ledge of rocks, and\nwas able to see and hear her without being seen.\n\nPedro heard her singing the following words\u2014\n\n    \u201cI am daughter of a king\n      Who rules in Aragon,\n    My messengers they bring\n      Me food to live upon.\n    My father thinks me dead;\n      My death he did ordain,\n    For that I would not wed\n      A wicked knight of Spain.\n    But those whom he did send\n      To kill me in this place,\n    My youth they did befriend,\n      But cruel is my case.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it even so,\u201d said Pedro to himself, \u201cthat this lovely maiden is the\ndaughter of a king? If I render her assistance I may incur great danger,\nand if I leave her to die it will be a crying shame; what, then, am I to\ndo?\u201d\n\nAs he was thus pondering in his mind, he heard a flapping of wings, and,\nlooking in the direction whence the noise came, he saw a pair of\nperfectly white pigeons bearing a small basket between them, strung on a\nthin golden bar, which they held at each end between their beaks.\n\nDescending, they deposited the basket by the side of the princess, who\ncaressed them most tenderly, and then took from the basket some\narticles of food which she greedily ate (for she had not eaten since the\nprevious morning), and after having finished the contents she again\nsang\u2014\n\n    \u201cI am daughter of a king,\n      Who thinks that I am dead;\n    Here on this beach I sing,\n      By pigeons I am fed.\n    Thank you, my pretty birds,\n      Who are so kind to me.\n    But what avail my words?\n      Oh, I a bird would be!\u201d\n\nThis wish was no sooner uttered than Pedro, much to his astonishment,\nsaw that the lovely princess had been turned into a white swan, with a\nsmall gold crown on the top of its head.\n\nExpanding her wings, she gradually rose high above him, attended by the\npigeons, and all three flew out to sea; when suddenly Pedro observed a\nmagnificent ship not far from the coast, whose deck was of burnished\ngold, and her sides of ivory fastened with golden nails. The ropes were\nof thread of silver, and the sails of white silk, while the masts and\nyards were made of the finest sandal-wood.\n\nTo the ship the three birds flew, and no sooner did they alight on the\ndeck than Pedro observed that they were three beautiful maidens.\n\nThe princess sat on a richly ornamented chair, and the other two maidens\non velvet cushions embroidered in gold at her feet.\n\nOver them was spread a superb awning to shelter them from the rays of\nthe sun, and the vessel glided about over the vast expanse of water, now\nin one direction, now in another, as if the breeze blew to suit the\nsails.\n\nPedro was so astonished at what he saw that at last he got frightened,\nand, being young and nimble, he soon lost sight of the ship; but at\nevery pace he seemed to hear a voice saying, \u201cRun not away, future king\nof Aragon!\u201d\n\nPedro continued running till he left the beach far behind, and was now\nin the pine-forest; nor did he stop till he was in the densest part,\nwhen, for very fatigue, he threw himself on the ground, and then he\ndistinctly heard a voice say, \u201cPedro, you are destined to be King of\nAragon; but tell no one.\u201d\n\nNot till then had he discovered that he was no longer dressed in\nfisherman\u2019s attire, but that his clothes were of the finest cloth\nfringed with gold lace.\n\nPedro, on seeing this, said, \u201cI am enchanted. That princess is indeed a\nmermaid, and has cast a spell over me. I am undone, my eyes deceive me,\nand what I take for so much grandeur is but a deception.\u201d Saying which,\nhe started to his feet, and hurried towards his village as fast as his\nlegs would carry him.\n\nArrived at the fishing hamlet, all his old companions paid him such\ndeference that he tried to get out of their way, thinking they did but\nlaugh at him, and, arriving at the door of his widowed mother\u2019s cottage,\nhe ran into the kitchen. His mother happened to be frying some fish, and\nwhen she saw a grand gentleman enter the apartment she took the pan off\nthe fire, and, bowing low, said, \u201cMy noble sir, this house is too humble\nfor such as you; allow me to conduct you to his reverence\u2019s house, for\nthere you will find accommodation more suited to your high estate.\u201d\n\nPedro would have replied to his mother, and sought to kiss her hand and\nask her blessing, after the custom of the country; but, on attempting to\nspeak, his tongue hung out of his mouth, and he made so strange a noise\nand so gesticulated that his mother was glad to get out of the house,\nfollowed, however, by her son and a large crowd of villagers who had\ncongregated to see the grand stranger.\n\nAs soon as it was known throughout the village of the arrival of the\ngrand stranger the church bells pealed, and the parish priest mingled\nwith the crowd desirous of seeing the new arrival; but as soon as Pedro\ncommenced gesticulating as before, the priest and all the rest of the\npeople were much frightened, for they thought that he was dangerously\nmad.\n\nPedro, noticing this, sorrowfully turned away from his native village\nand took the high-road to the next town.\n\nAs he was going along, thinking of his present trouble, he observed a\nwide gate made of gold, opening into a beautiful garden, into which he\nhesitated not to enter; for he recollected what the wise woman of the\nvillage had once told him\u2014that \u201cgrand clothes beget respect.\u201d\n\n\u201cOpen wide those gates, O worker midst the flowers,\u201d exclaimed Pedro to\nan old gardener (for he had now recovered his speech). \u201cI come in cloth\nof gold to speak unto my love.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d replied the old man, \u201cyou may always enter here, for you are D.\nPedro of Aragon, I well can see.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat very high balconies, a hundred feet in height!\u201d exclaimed Pedro.\n\u201cTell me, good old man, does the princess ever come there?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo those balconies so high, to feel the cooling breeze,\u201d replied the\ngardener, \u201cthe princess comes there every evening alone.\u201d\n\n\u201cShould she ask you,\u201d continued Pedro, \u201cwho I am, tell her that I am\nyour son come from a distant land, and I will help you to water the\npinks.\u201d\n\nAt her usual time the princess came to her favourite balcony, and seeing\nPedro watering the flowers, she beckoned to him, saying\u2014\n\n\u201cO waterer of the pinks, come a little nearer and speak to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it true that you desire to speak to me?\u201d inquired Pedro of the\nprincess.\n\n\u201cNo mirror bright ever reflected the truth more correctly than the words\nI uttered conveyed my desire,\u201d answered the princess.\n\n\u201cHere, then, you have me,\u201d said Pedro. \u201cOrder me as your slave; but give\nme, for I am thirsty, a small ewer of water.\u201d\n\nThe princess poured some water into a silver goblet, and having handed\nit to Pedro, he exclaimed\u2014\n\n\u201cAnd in this mirror bright of crystal water pure, which does reflect\nthy form, I quench my heart\u2019s deep thirst.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou see yonder palace at the end of the garden,\u201d said the princess to\nPedro. \u201cWell, in that palace you will be lodged for the night; but\nshould you ever tell any one what you see there, you will put yourself\nin danger and cause me great trouble.\u201d\n\nPedro promised to keep secret whatever he might see that night, and\nbidding \u201cgood night\u201d to the princess, he hastened to the palace which\nthe princess had pointed out to him, and, having entered it, he walked\nthrough the marble passage, which seemed to be interminable. On each\nside of him were rows of majestic columns, surmounted by gold capitals,\nand now and again he thought he saw the forms of lovely young maidens\nflitting among the columns.\n\nJust as he was approaching a richly carved fountain surrounded by sacred\npalms, a maiden of surprising beauty seemed to be addressing a Moor in\nmost impassioned tones, as if claiming his indulgence; but when Pedro\ngot up to them he discovered that both were the work of the statuary.\n\nAt every step the surroundings became more magnificent, and the carved\nceiling was of such exquisite workmanship that it seemed rather the\nwork of the loom, being so like the finest lace, than of the sculptor.\n\nAt last he arrived at the end of this avenue of columns, and noticing a\ndoor in front of him, he opened it, and found himself standing on a\nmarble quay, against which the sea waves were washing.\n\nScanning the vast expanse of water before him, he observed approaching\nhim the same beautiful ship he had seen in the morning.\n\nWhen the ship came alongside the quay, a sailor sprung on shore, and\nmade her fast by a golden cable; then, addressing Pedro, he said\u2014\n\n\u201cI am glad you have not kept us waiting, for our royal mistress is very\nwishful to consult you, as one of her favourite doves has broken its\nright wing, and if you cannot cure it, the princess will die of\nstarvation.\u201d\n\nPedro made no reply, but stepped on board the ship, which soon got under\nway, and within a short time they were approaching the coast he knew so\nwell.\n\nHaving landed, Pedro saw the princess seated on the sand, nursing one of\nher white pigeons.\n\n\u201cPedro of Aragon,\u201d the princess exclaimed, \u201ca stranger dared to enter\nmy royal father\u2019s garden, and in assisting to water the pinks he trod on\nthe wing of my favourite pigeon, and he has broken it.\u201d\n\n\u201cSe\u00f1ora,\u201d replied Pedro, \u201cthe intruder did probably seek you, and had no\nidea of hurting the lovely bird.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat matters not,\u201d continued the princess, \u201cfor my principal supporter\nis wounded, and you must cure her. Cut out my heart, and steep this bird\nin my warm blood, and when I am dead throw my body into the sea.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow can I kill one so lovely?\u201d asked Pedro. \u201cI would rather die myself\nthan hurt you!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you do not care for me, or else you would do as I bid you,\u201d\nanswered the princess.\n\n\u201cPrincess, I cannot and will not kill you; but I will do anything else\nyou bid me,\u201d said Pedro.\n\n\u201cWell, then, since you will not kill me, I order you to take this pigeon\nback with you; for I know it was you who walked in my father\u2019s garden\nto-day,\u201d continued the princess. \u201cAnd to-morrow evening, when you see\nthat princess whom you saw to-day, you must kill her, and let her blood\nfall over this pretty bird.\u201d\n\nPedro was now in great trouble, for he had promised the princess to do\nanything she told him to do, except killing her, and he could not break\nhis word; so taking hold of the pigeon very gently, and bidding good-bye\nto the princess, he again stepped on board the ship, and so depressed\nwas he that he had arrived at the marble quay without being aware of it.\n\nOn landing, he retraced his steps through the avenue of pillars, and\nfound himself once more in the garden, where the old gardener was again\nwatering the pinks.\n\n\u201cWhat very high balconies!\u201d exclaimed Pedro. \u201cTell me, old gardener of\nthe ancient times, if the princess comes here to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe princess loves the fresh sea-breeze,\u201d answered the old man, \u201cand\nto-night she will come to the balcony, for her noble lover will be\nwaiting for her.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd who is the princess\u2019s lover?\u201d inquired Pedro.\n\n\u201cIf you will help me to water the pinks, I will tell you,\u201d said the old\nman.\n\nPedro readily acquiesced, and putting down the pigeon where he thought\nno harm would happen to it, he commenced assisting the gardener to\nwater the pinks.\n\nAfter a silence of a few minutes the gardener said\u2014\n\n\u201cThere were once seven pigeons who said, \u2018Seven pigeons are we, and with\nother seven pigeons we might all be mated; but, as it is, we must remain\nseven pigeons.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d put in Pedro; \u201cbut I want to know who the princess\u2019s lover is.\u201d\n\nThe old man took no heed of the interruption, and continued\u2014\n\n\u201cThere were once seven pigeons who said, \u2018Seven pigeons are we\u2014\u2014\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cStop!\u201d cried Pedro; \u201cI will have no such idle talk. Tell me who this\nnoble lover is, or I will do you an injury.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d cried the gardener, with a very serious countenance, \u201cthere were\nonce seven pigeons who said, \u2018Seven pigeons are we, and\u2014\u2014\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cTake your watering-can,\u201d shouted Pedro in disgust; \u201cI will not listen\nto your nonsense!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd yet there were once seven pigeons who said, \u2018Seven pigeons are we;\u2019\nand now the last of them is gone, for the noble lover has been false to\nhis trust,\u201d exclaimed the old man, looking very cunningly at Pedro.\n\nAt these words Pedro looked towards the place where he had placed the\npigeon, and it was no longer there.\n\nSeized with a fit of fury, he was about to lay hands on the gardener,\nwhen, to his astonishment, he found that he was also gone.\n\n\u201cI am undone,\u201d cried the unhappy Pedro; \u201cand now I shall not see the\nprincess again.\u201d Saying which he fainted away, and might probably have\nremained there some time, but that he heard a voice saying, in a jocular\nmanner\u2014\n\n\u201cThere were once seven pigeons who said, \u2018Seven pigeons are we,\nand\u2014\u2014\u2019\u201d\n\nPedro started to his feet, and close to him was standing the princess\nwhom he had previously seen in the balcony.\n\n\u201cWhy do you thus tease me, princess?\u201d said Pedro. \u201cI want to hear no\nmore about the seven horrid pigeons.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon Pedro de Aragon,\u201d answered the princess, \u201cI must tell you that the\nold gardener to whom you spoke is a magician, and he has possessed\nhimself of the last means I had of regaining my liberty, for I am under\nhis power. Is it not true that you came here with the purpose of killing\nme?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was under a vow to do so,\u201d replied Pedro; \u201cbut I cannot kill you,\nalthough I would rather slay you, fair princess, than do you a more\ngrievous injury.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo back, then, to the unhappy lady whom you left on the sea-shore, and\ntell her that you have been false to your promises,\u201d said the princess.\n\n\u201cHow sorry I am,\u201d exclaimed Pedro, \u201cthat I was ever destined to be King\nof Aragon! When I was a poor fisherman, I was far happier than I am\nnow!\u201d\n\n\u201cPedro of Aragon, the moon will be at the full to-night, and you may\nthen rescue me,\u201d said the princess, \u201cif you have the courage to meet the\nwicked magician in this garden at midnight, for then is his power\nweakest.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am prepared for the worst,\u201d replied Pedro, \u201cand I fear not your\ngaoler.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then,\u201d continued the princess, \u201cwhen the magician sees you he\nwill again tell you about the seven pigeons; but when he has finished,\nyou must tell him that there were once seven wives who had only one\nhusband, and that they are waiting outside to see him. Do as I tell you,\nand if you are not afraid of his anger, you may be able to free me.\u201d\n\nPedro promised to do as he was told, and the princess having retired\ninto the palace, Pedro amused himself by walking under the lofty\nbalconies, watching the fire-flies grow brighter as night came on.\n\nJust about midnight the magician was seen watering the pinks, and as\nsoon as he perceived Pedro he said\u2014\n\n\u201cThere were once seven pigeons who said, \u2018Seven pigeons are we, and with\nother seven pigeons we might all be mated; but, as it is, we must remain\nseven pigeons.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so,\u201d put in Pedro. \u201cAnd once upon a time there were seven wives\nwho had only one husband, and they are waiting outside to see him.\u201d\n\nThe magician, at these words, lost all control over his temper; but\nPedro heeded him not, rather did he endeavour to increase his rage by\nrepeating all about the seven wives.\n\n\u201cI am undone!\u201d cried the magician; \u201cbut if you will induce the spirits\nof my seven wives to again seek the grave, I will give you what you\nwant, and that is the princess.\u201d\n\n\u201cGive me the princess first,\u201d answered Pedro, \u201cand then I will free you\nof your wives.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake her, then,\u201d said the magician; \u201chere she is. And forget not what\nyou have promised me, for I may tell you in confidence that a man with\nseven wives cannot play the magician.\u201d\n\nPedro hurried away with the princess; and after they had been married\nand crowned, the princess, who was now queen, one day said to him\u2014\n\n\u201cPedro, the magician who held me captive from you was Rank, and\ntherefore were the balconies so high. When you saw me on the beach fed\nby pigeons, it was that you should know my power; on the shore I was\nattended by winged messengers, and on the sea I sailed about at\npleasure.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what about the wounded pigeon?\u201d asked Pedro.\n\n\u201cRecollect, Pedro, what you said to me in the garden,\u201d answered the\nprincess\u2014\u201cthat you would rather slay me than do me a more grievous\ninjury. That poor pigeon with its broken wing could no more hope to soar\naloft than an injured woman to mix with her former associates.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what about the seven wives who were waiting outside, and who so\nfrightened the old magician, Rank?\u201d continued Pedro.\n\n\u201cThey are the seven deadly sins, who would each have a tongue for\nitself, and yet without tongues are enough to frighten Rank,\u201d answered\nthe princess.\n\n\u201cAnd who am I, then,\u201d asked Pedro, \u201cto be so exalted now?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are the wise man who strove to do his best, yet tried not to exalt\nhimself above his position,\u201d sweetly answered the princess.\n\n\u201cSo that the magician Rank has unwillingly raised the poor fisherman to\nbe king,\u201d whispered Pedro.\n\n\u201cNot Rank alone, but much more so thy own worth.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nLADY CLARE.\n\nTRANSLATION.\n\n\nLady Clare was in her garden overlooking the sea. It was a summer\u2019s day,\nand the many coloured butterflies flitted about under the trees and\namong the sweet smelling flowers.\n\nLady Clare was combing her golden tresses with an ivory comb, seated on\na crimson velvet cushion. She looked towards the sea, and she saw a\ngallant fleet making for the land.\n\nHe who was in command stepped on shore. He was a belted knight, but his\nfeatures could not be seen as his vizor was down.\n\nApproaching Lady Clare, he saluted her, and she thus addressed him\u2014\n\n\u201cHast thou, noble knight, seen my husband, who bid me good-bye many\nyears ago when he sailed for the Holy Land?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know not thy husband, fair lady. By what should I know him?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe took his white charger with its golden trappings with him,\u201d answered\nLady Clare. \u201cOn his lance he bore a red pennon; a tress of my hair\nserved him for a belt, from which hung his sword. But if thou hast not\nseen him, Knight of the Cross, then woe be to me, lonely widow, for I\nhave three daughters, and they are all unmarried.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am a soldier,\u201d continued the knight; \u201cwar is my employment. But what\nwouldst thou give, fair lady, to have thy husband near?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would give thee more money than thou couldst count, as well as the\nroof of my house, which is made of gold and ivory,\u201d answered Lady Clare.\n\n\u201cI care not for gold nor money; they are of no use to me, for I am a\nsoldier and engaged in war, and I never saw thy husband. But what\nwouldst thou give, fair lady, to have him here?\u201d inquired the knight.\n\n\u201cI would give thee my jewels, which cannot be weighed nor measured; I\nwould give thee my golden loom and my distaff of burnished silver,\u201d said\nLady Clare.\n\n\u201cI neither wish for gold nor for silver: with steel is my hand better\nacquainted, for I am a warrior, and I never saw thy husband. But what\nwouldst thou give to have him near thee?\u201d cried the knight.\n\n\u201cI would let thee choose one of my daughters; they are as fair as the\nmoon, or as the sun when rising,\u201d urged Lady Clare.\n\n\u201cI do not want thy daughters; they may not marry me, for I am a soldier\nand engaged in warfare, and I never cast eyes on thy husband. But what\nwouldst thou give to have thy own knight here?\u201d exclaimed the warrior.\n\n\u201cI cannot give thee more, nor hast thou more to ask of me,\u201d replied Lady\nClare.\n\n\u201cThou hast still more to give, for thou hast not yet offered thyself,\nfair lady,\u201d said the knight.\n\n\u201cA belted knight who dare so speak deserves to be dragged around my\ngarden, tied to the tails of my horses. Come hither, my vassals, and\npunish this rude soldier!\u201d exclaimed Lady Clare.\n\n\u201cDo not call for thy vassals, for they are mine also,\u201d said the knight;\n\u201cand do not be angry with me, for I have already kissed thee.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen thou art surely my brave lord,\u201d said Lady Clare; \u201cbut how wilt\nthou prove thyself?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the golden ring with seven gems which I divided with thee when I\nleft,\u201d answered the knight. \u201cHere is my half; where is thine?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy daughters,\u201d cried the Lady Clare, \u201cbring hither my half of the ring,\nfor your father is here to claim it! But, oh, my husband, joy at seeing\nthee again had nigh made thee a widower.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nGOOD ST. JAMES, AND THE MERRY BARBER OF COMPOSTELLA.\n\n\nJust close to the cathedral of Compostella lived a barber whose real\nname was Pedro Moreno, but who was better known by that of El Macho,\n\u201cthe mule,\u201d because he was so stubborn that if he happened to be playing\nthe guitar, he would not leave off though a dozen customers were waiting\nto be shaved. But in Spain a barber also applies leeches, draws teeth,\nand extracts corns, so that it was very annoying for a man who was\nsuffering from tooth-ache, and wanted his tooth taken out or stopped, to\nhave to wait until the barber had finished playing on the guitar.\n\nHe was also a soothsayer, and could repeat the whole of the prophetical\n_Buena Dicha_ by heart. He was, in fact, the most useful man in\nCompostella, and had cultivated the art of shaving the face and head\nfrom the commencement which consists in watching the flies when\nstanding close to the master who is showing off his skill on a customer,\nto being able to play the guitar with such proficiency that, holding the\nneck in his left hand and pressing the cords with the fingers, he shall,\nby thumping the instrument on the big toe of his left foot, cause it to\nvibrate the air of the immortal _Cachucha_ or the _Bolero_, while with\nhis right hand he plays the castanets.\n\nA barber may have his brass chin-basins, which hang outside the door,\nburnished every day; his fly-catcher renovated every month; his bottles\ncontaining leeches nice and clean; and he may know all the scandal of\nthe town, which is decidedly a part of his duty; but if he cannot play\nthe guitar and the castanets at the same time\u2014which he can only do by\ncalling the big toe of his left foot into requisition\u2014he must not be\nconsidered a barber of the first class. He may do for shaving poor\npriests and water-carriers; but he may not shave an abbot, nor an\narchbishop, still less a grandee of Spain, who may sit before the king\nwith his hat on.\n\nIn other countries the position of a barber is somewhat less important\nthan it used to be when cleanliness required of a man that he should\nappear at early mass on the Sunday well shaved; but in Spain,\ncleanliness of the face is a great recommendation, for a rough chin\nnever earned kisses. Therefore is a barber still held in great respect\nin the land of the Cid; and although Don Pedro Moreno was known by the\nname of \u201cEl Macho,\u201d no one would have dared address him thus.\n\nOne day the archbishop called on El Macho to request of him to come and\nlook at the image of St. James in the cathedral, to whom the edifice is\ndedicated, because this miraculous figure, who had wrought so many\nmiracles, had, strange to say, commenced letting his beard grow, much to\nthe astonishment of all the priesthood and of the common people, and to\nthe dismay of several knights who had been knighted at the altar of St.\nJames, because in those days knights did not use beards.\n\nThe barber, seeing the archbishop enter his house, advanced, knelt, and\nkissed his ring; and, knowing on what errand he was come, he was so\nsolicitous of securing the archbishop\u2019s favour, that he put aside his\nguitar, and respectfully awaited the prelate\u2019s commands.\n\nThe archbishop having informed Pedro of the state of St. James\u2019s chin,\nproceeded to inform him that it had been decided, at a meeting of the\nclergy, to entrust the shaving of the saint to him, Pedro Moreno; but\nthat, as this growth of hair was most exceptional, seeing that the image\nwas of wood, it was probable that the usual process of shaving might not\nbe sufficient.\n\n\u201cAnd you are quite right, most excellent sir, in your supposition,\u201d\nexclaimed the barber; \u201cfor unless I obtain some of the holy water in\nwhich the good saint was baptized, and a piece of the soap with which\nJudas Iscariot greased the rope with which he hanged himself, it will be\nuseless to try and shave him, for the hair will grow as fast as it is\ntaken off.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut that is impossible,\u201d answered the archbishop; \u201cfor we do not even\nknow where the good saint was baptized; and as for the soap last used by\nthe arch-traitor, I should not be astonished to hear that Satan had\ntaken it away with him when he came to fetch Judas. No, good Pedro; you\nmust help me out of this difficulty in some other manner.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen we must do with St. James of Compostella what the men of Burgos\ndid with their alcaide, who persisted in getting drunk when he ought to\nhave been getting sober. They got another alcaide as much like the\nother as possible, excepting that he was not a _borracho_. We must get\nanother St. James like this one, but without a beard, and the people\nwill be none the wiser.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d whispered the venerable archbishop, \u201cwhat are we to do without\nour real, own, good, sweet St. James, whose miracles have been the means\nof restoring so many erring ones to the fold, and bringing in so much\nmoney to the Church? How can we replace him? And then, again, where can\nwe hide him?\u201d\n\n\u201cAll this can be arranged very easily,\u201d answered El Macho. \u201cAny St.\nJames will perform the same miracles, for the people have faith in him.\nIt is the same with me; the hidalgos have faith in me, and therefore\nbelieve I am the only man in Compostella that can shave them, although\nthere are many other barbers. It is the people\u2019s faith that performs the\nmiracles. As for hiding the saint, I will put him in a box I have got,\nand lock him up safely.\u201d\n\n\u201cFair sir, I leave the matter in your hands,\u201d continued the archbishop;\n\u201cbut beware lest the people get to hear of it.\u201d\n\nAnd having said this he mounted his mule and rode off.\n\nEl Macho went in search of a sculptor, a friend of his, and told him\nthat he wanted an image made exactly like that of St. Iago\u2019s in the\ncathedral, because he had made a vow that should he live single up to\nthe age of fifty, he would endow his parish church in Cordova with a St.\nJames. He pressed his friend to make haste, and told him he would pay\nhim well for his trouble.\n\nAt the end of ten days the image was finished and handed over to the\nbarber, who, in the middle of the night, with the assistance of the\narchbishop, entered the cathedral, took down good St. James, disrobed\nhim of his armour, and having put it on the new St. James, placed him on\nthe altar, and then carried the old image home.\n\nHaving locked the door, he proceeded to place the saint in the wooden\nbox, but found out that his legs were too long; so he cut two holes in\nthe side, through which he allowed them to project, and, putting down\nthe lid, locked it.\n\nNext morning, after the first mass was over, the people gave vent to\ntheir pleasure at seeing that St. James had a shaven face as formerly;\nand the barber, who was at the door, gained great praise by informing\nthem that he had been the unworthy means of shaving their saintly\npatron.\n\nNow, the saint, who heard this from his box, commenced to hit about him,\nand shouted out\u2014\n\n\u201cGood people, I am St. James with the beard. El Macho is a villain!\u201d\n\nBut the people laughed, thinking it was the apprentice who was in the\nalcova, or inner room, and had not got over the previous night\u2019s\ndrinking. So they went their way, laughing at the idea of a beardless\nboy thinking he was good St. James with the beard.\n\nMatters went on very well with regard to the new St. James, who was not\ndeficient in working such miracles as the people liked to ascribe to him\nand to believe of him. The belted knights were pleased to find out that\nthe growing of a beard was only a passing fancy of their patron; and as\nall were satisfied, and the revenues increased, the priests were also\nwell pleased.\n\nGood St. James had been confined within his box for about three months\nwhen the day for his annual procession came round, and great\npreparations had been made for the occasion. Each knight had sent his\nwar-horse fully caparisoned, led by two servants in the livery of the\nfamily, and followed by his shield and spear-bearers. There were about\none hundred and fifty such chargers which preceded the horse bearing the\nimage of St. James, who was kept secure in the saddle by a knight\nwalking on each side, holding his legs, while another one followed\nbearing his banner. Then came the standard-bearers of the knights, each\nwith a page richly dressed, and then came the archbishop under the\npallio, surrounded by the dignitaries of the cathedral and minor priests\nof the neighbouring villages. All the holy brotherhoods presented\nthemselves in their different coloured robes, with their gold and silver\ncrosses, their richly emblazoned banners; and in their midst walked\nlittle girls dressed up to imitate angels, while the little boys swung\ncensers of burning incense. In the rear came twelve squadrons of\ncavalry, four batteries of artillery, and five brigades of infantry,\nwhich had arrived from different garrison towns to take part in the\nprocession. From every window scarlet damask drapery hung, as well as\nfrom the balconies where the lovely daughters of Spain in all their\nholiday grandeur appeared, fanning themselves gracefully\u2014which art they\nhave cultivated to the detriment of conversation, which to them is still\nan art little attended to.\n\nThe streets through which the procession had to pass were strewn with\nflowers, especially fleurs-de-lis, and crowds had congregated on the\npavements.\n\nEl Macho had given his apprentice a half-holiday, and was standing\noutside his house, speaking to some customers, when he suddenly heard a\ngreat noise, and turning round he saw that good St. James in the box was\nrunning towards the cathedral from which the procession was emerging.\nPeals of laughter and shouts of \u201cEl cajon\u201d (\u201cThe box\u201d) were taken up by\nthe multitude; but, fortunately for El Macho, they did not see from\nwhich house the box on legs had come.\n\nNot waiting for admittance, and knocking over the sentries at the door,\nthe saint in the box made straight for the archbishop, who, knowing what\nit was, quietly walked into the vestry, followed by St. James, and\nlocked the door.\n\nThen he undid the box, and beheld good St. James with a three months\u2019\nbeard on his chin, who shouted\u2014\n\n\u201cHave me shaved, good archbishop! Let me take my place in this grand\ncavalcade, and I promise not to grow a beard again.\u201d\n\nThe archbishop enjoined silence; and calling for one of his acolytes, he\nordered him to stop the procession for half an hour, to have the horse\ncarrying the other St. James led into the enclosed yard, and send for\nthe barber, El Macho. This having been done, the barber was ordered to\nshave the saint and put on his armour, which the other one was wearing.\nThis did not take long; but even so the people wondered at what had\nhappened, which, however, they were never to know\u2014not even the mystery\nof this box on legs\u2014because the archbishop issued a pastoral granting\nplenary absolution to all such as should not ask him any questions, and\nexcommunication to all such as should find out.\n\nOnce again on horseback, and surrounded by his faithful knights, St.\nJames received the homage of the vulgar crowds and of the lovely ladies,\nand returned to his old place on the altar.\n\nThat he did not relish being locked up in the box for three months is\nproved by the fact that when, on three or four occasions, his vanity got\nthe better of him, and the archbishop thought he saw signs of letting\nhis beard grow, it was quite sufficient to show him the big box for him\nto withdraw the obnoxious bristles.\n\nThe new St. James was presented to the parish church at Cordova by El\nMacho, and his vow having been thus accomplished, he married the\narchbishop\u2019s niece, gave up business, and died shortly after.\n\n\n\n\nELVIRA, THE SAINTED PRINCESS.\n\n\nWamba was king of the Goths, who inhabited the northern part of\nLusitania. He was one of the bravest kings that ever reigned, and the\nwalls of his palace still stand as evidence of the skill with which he\nstudied to improve his capital. But although he was wise, he was not a\ngood man, and his bravery in war was not tempered by mercy. Like all his\npredecessors, he was cruel to his victims, and was more feared than\nloved.\n\nWamba had but one daughter, Elvira, whose mother was a princess of the\nMoorish family reigning in Andalusia. She was so beautiful and so good,\nthat she contributed in no small degree in rendering her father\u2019s reign\nfamous. Her long hair was of a lovely glossy black; her eyes, of the\nsame dark hue, had all the softness of her race, and it was this very\ntenderness of look that gave majesty to her appearance.\n\nIn those days there were but very few Christians in Europe. The\nCrescent of the false prophet had overcome for a time the Cross of the\ntrue Saviour. To the teachings of an old man, who in secret worshipped\nthe true God, Elvira owed the first lessons she got of Christianity; and\nonce the good seed was sown, it multiplied.\n\nWamba did not know that his daughter was a Christian; but he knew that\nshe was very good, and that for her goodness she was very much beloved\nby all his subjects.\n\nNow, it so happened that in the dungeon of his palace there were many\nprisoners condemned to death by starvation, and it perplexed the king to\nknow how it was that they continued to live. Every morning he would ask\nof the gaoler if the prisoners had died, and the answer was that they\nseemed quite well.\n\nSo one day he hid in a nook of the staircase, hoping to find out who fed\nhis prisoners. He had not long to wait, for he soon saw Elvira\ndescending, followed by a young courtier, Alaric, and carrying something\nin her apron.\n\nElvira, unknown to her father, had been in the custom of carrying bread\nto the poor prisoners, and she was assisted in her work of mercy by her\nlover Alaric.\n\nWhen she got close to the king, he started out of his hiding-place, and\nseizing her by the arm, she, in her fright, let fall her apron, out of\nwhich fell beautiful roses, into which the bread had been transformed.\n\nGreat was the surprise of the king, for he thought she was carrying\nvictuals. Then, in his rage, he said\u2014\n\n\u201cElvira, thou art in league with the evil one, and thou and thy lover\nshall die!\u201d\n\nElvira and Alaric were themselves so astonished at what had taken place,\nthat they could not speak, and allowed themselves to be led away to\nseparate gaols without offering an explanation.\n\nWamba had it proclaimed that next day his daughter Elvira and her lover\nAlaric would be burnt in the public square for having dealings with the\nevil one. Many of his oldest courtiers tried to persuade him that he was\ntoo precipitate; but he was not to be moved, and all that night Elvira\nand Alaric were preparing to meet death.\n\nAt the first ray of light Wamba was up, and with his soldiers and\nexecutioners hurried to the public square. Elvira and Alaric were led\namong a strong body of men, and everything was being prepared for\nburning the lovers, when Elvira\u2019s old tutor presented himself before\nWamba, and said\u2014\n\n\u201cKnow, O king, that thy daughter fears not death, for her comfort is on\nthe Cross, and not on the Crescent. If any one be to blame, I am he, for\nI instructed her. Let me, then, be burned in her stead.\u201d\n\nWamba gazed fiercely at the old man, and, raising his massive olive\nstaff surmounted by a gold crown, exclaimed\u2014\n\n\u201cThou shalt also die, but not before thou hast witnessed her sufferings.\nThy God is a false God, or if He have power to save all of you, He shall\ncause this ancient olive staff to grow and throw out green leaves by\nto-morrow morning, or else you shall all die;\u201d and saying this, he stuck\nhis royal staff into the ground.\n\nElvira was to be allowed to remain close to the staff, but no one with\nher; and, so that she might not escape, guards were posted all round the\nsquare.\n\nKneeling at the side of that emblem of authority, which for generations\nhad been wielded by her ancestors, she gave vent to her prayers and\ntears, and the latter fell so quickly that they moistened the ground;\nand when morning came, Wamba, on arriving, saw his royal staff growing,\na sapling then, but shortly to grow into a tree, even as the Christian\nfaith in its sapling stage was to throw out its spreading branches over\nthe kingdom, till they all became one people, loving but one God.\n\nWamba caused a church to be built near the spot, which church still\nexists; and the olive-tree grows by its side, giving the name of\nOlive-tree to the Square.\n\nAlaric was married to Elvira; and Wamba having been called to the grave\nof his forefathers, these two reigned conjointly, and appointed the old\ntutor their counsellor.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ENCHANTED MULE.\n\n\nThere was once a very merry, but very poor hostler in Salamanca. He was\nso poor that he had to go about his business in rags; and one day when\nhe was attending on the richly caparisoned mule belonging to the\nArchbishop of Toledo, he gave vent to his feelings in words.\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said he, \u201cmy father was always called a donkey from the day of his\nmarriage; but would to goodness I were the archbishop\u2019s mule! Look at\nthe rich livery he bears; look at his stout sides; see how he drinks up\nhis wine and eats his maize bread! Oh, it would be a merry life, indeed!\nMy father was, they say, an ass, so I would be a mule!\u201d\n\nAnd then he leant against the manger, and laughed so heartily that the\narchbishop\u2019s mule stopped eating to look at him.\n\n\u201cWhat ho!\u201d said the mule. \u201cRemember that my reverend master, being a\ncorpulent man, is somewhat heavy; but if thou wilt change conditions\nwith me, thou need but take hold of both my ears, and, _caramba_, a mule\nthou shalt be, and that in the service of the Archbishop of Toledo!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that will I,\u201d answered Pablo the hostler; \u201cfor better be a well-fed\nmule than a starving hostler.\u201d So saying, he seized the mule by the\nears, and, looking at him in the face, he was immediately transformed;\nbut, to his surprise, he saw that the quondam mule was changed into a\nmonk. \u201cHow now!\u201d cried he. \u201cWilt thou not bring me some more wine and\nmaize bread, sir monk? Wilt thou not be my hostler?\u201d\n\nBut the monk turned away and left the stable, and Pablo then saw that he\nhad made a mistake. But he resolved that as soon as he was led out into\nthe street he would run off to his old mother, and implore her to\nintercede on his behalf with the patron St. James of Compostella.\n\nWhen the archbishop had rested, he called for his mule, which was\nbrought out; and, in the absence of the hostler, whom they could not\nfind, one of the attendants was about tightening the girths, when the\nmule Pablo, seizing the opportunity, bolted away as hard as he could\ndown the road in the direction of his mother\u2019s house.\n\nThe archbishop thought his mule had gone mad, and as the servants\nfollowed it, running, and crying out, \u201cStop the beast\u2014stop it!\u201d the\nrabble joined in the chase; but Pablo never stopped till he got to his\nmother\u2019s house.\n\nThe old woman was at the door, spinning at her distaff, and as she was\nvery deaf she had not heard the clamour. Pablo, bending over her, tried\nto kiss her hand, to ask her for her blessing, but his tongue now failed\nhim. So frightened was she at the approach of the animal that she hit\nhim over the head with her distaff, and cried out, \u201cAbernuncio!\u201d\n\nBy this time the servants had surrounded him, and were trying to lead\nhim back, but he would not go. He stood on his hind-legs, and then lay\ndown on his side, and rolled in the dust till the scarlet saddle-cloth\nwas spoilt, and then, suddenly rising, rushed into the cottage, and\ntried to sit on his accustomed chair.\n\nHis mother fled the house, and the rabble entered, and so cudgelled\nPablo that he was fain to return to the inn; and, after being groomed,\nhe allowed the archbishop to mount him. However, he had not gone far\nbefore he exclaimed, \u201cBy St. Iago, this mule hath the pace of a camel!\u201d\nPablo, not being accustomed to four legs, did not know how to use them,\nso that he would move his right fore and hind legs together. This caused\nthe archbishop great inconvenience, for, being a corpulent man, it made\nhim roll about on the saddle like the gold ball on the cathedral of\nSevilla, when the west wind loosened it, and the east wind blew it down.\n\nSeizing the pommel with both his hands, and raising himself in his shoe\nstirrups, he looked as if he intended to vault over the head of the\nmule; and as they were at this moment going through a village, the\ninhabitants, who had come out to see the archbishop, thought he was\nabout to deliver a sermon. So, surrounding the mule, they uncovered\ntheir heads, and knelt awaiting the blessing.\n\nPablo, forgetting he was a mule, thought the people were doing homage to\nhim, and being of a merry disposition, he gave way to such inward\nlaughter that it brought on a violent fit of coughing, which the\nfaithful\u2014not seeing the face of the archbishop, for they devoutly bent\ntheir heads towards the ground\u2014took to be the natural clearing of the\nthroat before speaking. But the archbishop, who was now becoming\nseriously frightened, and thinking that the evil one had entered the\nbody of his mule, exclaimed, \u201cExorciso te\u2014abernuncio!\u201d Then did Pablo\nsit down on his hind-quarters, so that the archbishop slid off the\nsaddle and rolled on the ground, and another \u201cAbernuncio!\u201d in a deeper\ntone, brought the devout people to their feet. Pablo at this moment got\nup, and by so doing completely capsized the venerable archbishop,\ncausing him to turn over on to his head. Full of dust and anger, the\nprelate started to his feet, and carefully examined his mule to see if\nhe could account for this peculiar behaviour. Sorely grieved did Pablo\nfeel at having caused the good archbishop so much annoyance, and, so as\nto show his contrition, he went down on his fore-legs, thinking to\nkneel, which so frightened all the people that they instinctively took\nshelter behind the archbishop. But he was as much afraid as the rest,\nand had it not been that they held him by his robes, he would have run\naway.\n\n\u201cThis beats the mule of Merida,\u201d cried one, \u201cwho ran away with the\nmiller\u2019s wife and then regretted the bargain. See, he is craving for\npardon.\u201d\n\nPablo the mule rose after kneeling for some time, and, after the\nfashion of trained animals of this breed, he extended his fore and\nhind-legs, so as to facilitate the archbishop mounting him, which he\nsoon did, feeling convinced that the mule had intended no harm; but\nPablo, regretting his mistake and the loss of time it had caused, set\noff at a quick amble, which so disconcerted his rider that he had to\nhold on by the pommel and the crupper; and thus he was hurried out of\nthe village, and the people were done out of the blessing.\n\nThe attendants, who were on foot, tried to keep up with Pablo; but this\nthey could not do, owing to his long strides; and not until they were\nwithin sight of Toledo did they get up to their master, who, by this\ntime, was out of breath and countenance. They, fearing that the mule\nmight start off again, placed a man on each side holding the reins, and\nthus did they approach the eastern gate of the city, at which many\npriests were waiting with the cross and the sword of the archbishop, in\norder to give him a fitting welcome, according to the rules of the\nChurch. Pablo, seeing the large silver cross, the emblem of\nChristianity, slackened his pace, and when within a few yards of it, in\nobedience to what his mother had taught him as a child, dropped down on\nhis knees, bending his head to the ground; but this he did so suddenly,\nthat the archbishop fell off the saddle on to his neck, and, to break\nhis fall, caught hold of his servants by their ears, nearly tearing them\noff, and causing them also to tumble. Thinking that the evil one had\nseized them, they struck out right and left, and nearly stunned their\nmaster with the blows and kicks. Pablo, hoping to retrieve his fortune,\nstarted to his legs with the archbishop clinging round his neck, and\ngalloped after the two servants with his mouth open, so that, should he\ncatch them, he might bite them. But they, surmising what he meant,\nsought refuge among the priests, and these in their turn made haste to\nget into a small chapel close by.\n\n\u201cOur archbishop must have changed mules with Beelzebub,\u201d said a fat\npriest, \u201cfor no earthly animal would thus treat a prince of the Church!\u201d\n\n\u201cAy,\u201d continued one of the runaway servants; \u201cand if his neck had been a\nfoot longer I should have been dangling in mid-air like the coffin of\nthe false prophet.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never thought to have run so fast again,\u201d ejaculated a very short\nand stout priest. \u201cFaith, my legs seemed to grow under me, as our\nsacristan said after he had been tossed by the abbot\u2019s bull.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut what has become of the archbishop?\u201d said another. \u201cWe must not\nleave him in his sorry plight.\u201d\n\nSaying this, he carefully opened the door of the chapel, and there they\nsaw their prelate swooning on the pavement, and Pablo dashing full tilt\namong the crowd, trying to wreak his vengeance on as many as he could\npossibly get hold of.\n\nHaving torn the leather breeches of some half-dozen sightseers, and\nknocked down and trampled on some score of men and women, he rushed out\nof the city by the same gate, and never stopped till he arrived at the\ninn where he had been hostler. The master of the inn, thinking that some\nmishap had befallen the archbishop, made haste to secure the mule; but\nas it was already night, he postponed sending off one of his servants\ntill next morning.\n\nOnce again at the manger, Pablo had time to consider over the mistake he\nhad made, and he would gladly have undergone any punishment, could he\nbut have regained his former shape.\n\nWhile he was thus musing, he saw the monk approaching, looking very\nsorrowful indeed.\n\n\u201cPablo,\u201d said he, \u201chow dost thou like being a mule?\u201d\n\nNow, Pablo was cunning, and, not wishing to let the monk know what had\nhappened, he answered\u2014\n\n\u201cAs for liking it, I enjoyed carrying the archbishop as much as he liked\nbeing carried; but I am not accustomed to such gay trappings and good\nliving, so that I am afraid of injuring my health.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf that be the case,\u201d continued the monk, \u201chold down thy head, and I\nwill relieve thee of the danger; for, to tell you the truth, I find out\nthat my wife is still living, and she recognized me although I was\ndisguised as a monk. By my faith, I would rather bear my master\u2019s\nharness to the grave than my wife\u2019s tongue from morning till night!\n_Caramba_, I hear her knocking at the door! Dear Pablo, let us again\nexchange conditions.\u201d\n\nAnd Pablo, when he awoke next morning, was tightly grasping a beam,\nthinking he was the Archbishop of Toledo clinging on to the mule\u2019s neck.\n\n\n\n\n      Now if you want some volumes nice,\n    You\u2019ll start at once I\u2019m su-er,\n      And go and fetch them in a trice,\n    From Messrs. FIELD AND TUER.\u2014_Punch._\n\n\n_EXTRACTS FROM_\n\nField & Tuer\u2019s List,\nThe Leadenhall Press.\n_50, LEADENHALL STREET, E.C._\n\n\n_Upwards of 300 Superb Illustrations (some beautifully hand-coloured)._\n\nKENSINGTON: PICTURESQUE AND HISTORICAL. By W. J. LOFTIE, B.A., F.S.A.,\nAuthor of \u201cA History of London,\u201d &c., &c. Illustrated by W. LUKER, JUN.,\nfrom Original Drawings carefully finished on the spot and engraved in\nParis. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C. \u00a32 5s.\n\nSince the publication of Faulkner\u2019s work in 1820, no history of\nKensington pretending to accuracy or completeness has been produced.\nThis sumptuous work contains full and descriptive accounts of the parish\nof Kensington and the adjoining Palace and Gardens, with the changes and\nimprovements of the past half century or more; notices of Kensington\ncelebrities and of the great national institutions which have sprung up\nat Kensington Gore and Brompton Park; and a fund of discursive matter of\nlocal and historical interest. In regard to the very numerous and\nabsolutely faithful illustrations, two years have been spent by the\nartist in making for this work original drawings of old and modern\nKensington. They include artistic exteriors and interiors; glimpses of\nKensington Gardens; the Palace in which the Queen was born; the park;\nthe people, streets, houses, churches, and ruins; and pretty, quaint,\nand taking \u201cbits\u201d of Kensington scenery. All the drawings have been\nengraved in Paris in the finest possible manner, and the paper on which\nthey are printed has been specially manufactured of a quality to ensure\nthe delicacy of the originals being fully retained.\n\nFor the curious a few PROOF copies of KENSINGTON: PICTURESQUE AND\nHISTORICAL at five guineas, bound in full morocco, have painted in\nwater-colours on the front, under the gilt edges of the leaves, a couple\nof Kensington views, which, until the leaves are bent back at an angle,\nare invisible.\n\n\nIN THE PRESS.]\n\nTHROUGH ENGLAND ON A SIDE-SADDLE IN THE TIME OF WILLIAM & MARY; being\nthe Diary of CELIA FIENNES. With an explanatory Introduction by The Hon.\nMrs. GRIFFITHS. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n\nIN THE PRESS.]\n\nTALES FROM THE LANDS OF NUTS & GRAPES: (SPANISH & PORTUGUESE FOLKLORE.)\nBy CHARLES SELLERS. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Half-a-Crown.\n\n\nIN THE PRESS.]\n\nTHE BAIRNS\u2019 ANNUAL (for 1888-9) of Old-Fashioned Tales. Edited by ALICE\nCORKRAN. Illustrated with nearly one hundred original wooden blocks and\na coloured Frontispiece. Contents:\u2014The Story of Punch and Judy: The\nSleeping Beauty in the Wood: The Butterfly\u2019s Ball and the Grasshopper\u2019s\nFeast: Little Red Riding Hood: Hop o\u2019 my Thumb: Cinderella and her\nLittle Glass Slipper: Gaffer Gray: a Christmas Ditty: The Apple-Pie\nAlphabet: Dr. Watts\u2019s Cradle Hymn: Peter Piper\u2019s Practical Principles: A\nMerry New Song: The Rudiments of Grammar: The Froward Child Properly\nCorrected: Tom Thumb. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\nA delightful _m\u00e9lange_ of the old-fashioned fairy tales that delighted\nour grand-parents when bairns.\n\n\nMEN, MAIDENS & MANNERS A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. By JOHN ASHTON. With\nthirty-four contemporary illustrations. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The\nLeadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\n\nIN THE PRESS.]\n\nHIEROGLYPHIC BIBLE. Being a careful selection of the most interesting\nand important passages in the Old and New Testaments. Illustrated with\nhundreds of Engravings on Wood. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall\nPress, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\nA facsimile, crowded with the original quaint illustrations, of an\nedition of the Holy Scriptures which amused and instructed our great\ngrand-fathers and great grand-mothers when little boys and girls.\n\n\nA LOVER\u2019S LITANIES. By ERIC MACKAY, Author of \u201cLove Letters of a\nViolinist\u201d and \u201cGladys the Singer.\u201d LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall\nPress, London, E.C.\n\n  [Ten-and-Sixpence.\n\n\nTHE BAGLIONI: A Tragedy. By FAIRFAX L. CARTWRIGHT. LONDON: Field & Tuer,\nThe Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Three-and-Sixpence.\n\n\nPEOPLE WE MEET. By CHARLES F. RIDEAL. Illustrated by HARRY PARKES.\nLONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\nA limited edition of 250 only, proof copies signed and numbered.\n\n  [Five Shillings.\n\n\nTHE DAWN OF THE TWENTIETH CENTURY: 1st January, 1901. LONDON: Field &\nTuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\n\u201cDisplays an exhaustive knowledge of the diplomatical relations between\nthe different countries of Europe and of history in general.\u201d\u2014_Morning\nPost._\n\n\nA SEASON IN EGYPT. By W. M. FLINDERS PETRIE. Illustrated. LONDON: Field\n& Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Twelve Shillings.\n\n\nA BOOK OF JOUSTS. Edited by JAMES M. LOWRY, Author of \u201cThe Keys at\nHome,\u201d &c. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\n\u201c... exceedingly clever humorous verses ... we have not often seen a\nbrighter little volume of its kind.\u201d\u2014_Manchester Examiner._\n\n\nFIFTY-FIVE GUINEAS REWARD. A Sensational Story. By FRED. C. MILFORD,\nAuthor of \u201cLost! A Day.\u201d Fifth Edition. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The\nLeadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling\n\n\nTHE GRIEVANCES BETWEEN AUTHORS AND PUBLISHERS, being the Report of the\nConferences of the Incorporated Society of Authors held in Willis\u2019s\nRooms, in March, 1887 with Additional Matter and Summary. LONDON: Field\n& Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Two Shillings.\n\n\nBEAUTY AND THE BEAST. By CHARLES LAMB. With an Introduction by ANDREW\nLANG. Illustrated with eight beautiful steel plates engraved in\nfacsimile from the original edition. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The\nLeadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Three-and-Sixpence.\n\nA charming book of equal interest to children and their elders.\n\n   One hundred signed copies only, containing a set of earliest\n   open-letter proofs of the eight illustrations in red, and a\n   duplicate set in brown.\n\n  [Ten-and-Sixpence: raised to Two Guineas.\n\n\nNo. 1.\u2014DAME WIGGINS OF LEE.\n\nNo. 2.\u2014THE GAPING WIDE-MOUTHED WADDLING FROG.\n\nNo. 3.\u2014DEBORAH DENT AND HER DONKEY.\n\nHand-coloured Illustrations. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press,\nE.C.\n\n  [One Shilling each.\n\nReprints of the coloured picture books\u2014illustrated from the original\nblocks, hand-coloured\u2014used by our grand-mothers when young. The\ncostumes of adults and of children at their games, &c., are very quaint\nand amusing. DAME WIGGINS OF LEE has met with the strong approval of Mr.\nRuskin.\n\n\nMODERN MEN. By A MODERN MAID. CONTENTS: The Decay of Courtesy, Our\nPartners, Our Fellow Boarders, Husbands and Brothers, The Vanity of Men,\nMen and Money Matters, Objectionable Lovers, &c., &c. LONDON: Field &\nTuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Two Shillings.\n\nA book in which modern men are amusingly abused.\n\n\nTHE HENRY IRVING DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM. By F. DRUMMOND NIBLETT. LONDON:\nField & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\nA clever skit. Both text and illustrations are on a black ground.\n\n\nTHE SEASONS. By JAMES THOMSON. With Four Illustrations and extra\nPortrait printed direct from the original copperplates, engraved in\n1792, and an Introductory Note by JOHN OLDCASTLE. LONDON: Field & Tuer,\nThe Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Sixteen-Pence.\n\nHaving no more original copperplates of a suitable character, the\npublishers regretfully announce that they are unable to further continue\nthis series. The three preceding issues are _Tristram Shandy_, _Sir\nCharles Grandison_ and _Solomon Gessner_. The four make a handsome and\ninteresting volume.\n\n\nSYBIL\u2019S DUTCH DOLLS. By F. S. JANET BURNE. Profusely Illustrated.\nLONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Two-and-Sixpence.\n\nAn amusing book, rendered doubly amusing by the very numerous cuts being\nunmistakably jointed wooden dolls.\n\n\nEIGHT TALES OF FAIRY-LAND. By LOUISE POIREZ. With \u201cthree times eight are\ntwenty-four\u201d illustrations by V. GERTRUDE MUNTZ. LONDON: Field & Tuer,\nThe Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Two-and-Sixpence.\n\nA cleverly written and cleverly illustrated set of fairy tales for\nchildren.\n\n\nGRAY\u2019S ELEGY: with Sixteen beautiful Illustrations by NORMAN PRESCOTT\nDAVIES, facsimiled from his original drawings in the possession, and\npublished by the gracious permission of H. R. H. The PRINCESS OF WALES.\nBound in gold lettered vellum, with broad silken bands and strings.\nLONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Guinea.\n\n\u201cA work of very great beauty.\u201d\u2014_Leeds Mercury._\n\n\nFLYING LEAVES FROM EAST AND WEST. (Second Edition.) By EMILY PFEIFFER,\nauthor of \u201cSonnets,\u201d \u201cGerard\u2019s Monument,\u201d \u201cUnder the Aspens,\u201d \u201cThe Rhyme\nof the Lady of the Rock,\u201d &c., &c. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall\nPress, E.C.\n\n  [Six Shillings.\n\n\u201cThe best book written on the American continent.\u201d\u2014_Academy._\n\n\nSONNETS. (Revised and Enlarged Edition.) By EMILY PFEIFFER, author of\n\u201cGerard\u2019s Monument,\u201d \u201cUnder the Aspens,\u201d \u201cThe Rhyme of the Lady of the\nRock,\u201d \u201cFlying Leaves from East and West,\u201d &c., &c. LONDON: Field &\nTuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Six Shillings.\n\n\u201cThey are, to our mind, among the finest in the language.\u201d\u2014_Spectator._\n\n\nTHE SIGNS OF OLD LOMBARD STREET. By F. G. HILTON PRICE, F.S.A., with\nSixty full-page 4to Illustrations by JAMES WEST. LONDON: Field & Tuer,\nThe Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Guinea.\n\n\nHOUSEKEEPING MADE EASY. By a Lady. A simplified method of keeping\naccounts, arranged to commence from any date. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The\nLeadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\n\n1,000 QUAINT CUTS FROM BOOKS OF OTHER DAYS, including Amusing\nIllustrations from Children\u2019s Story Books, Fables, Chap-books, &c., &c.;\na Selection of Pictorial Initial Letters and Curious Designs and\nOrnaments from Original Wooden Blocks belonging to The Leadenhall Press.\nLONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Sixteen-Pence.\n\nA limited number printed on one side of the paper only at\nTwo-and-Eightpence.\n\n\u201cA wonderful collection of entertaining old wood engravings ... any one\nof these delights is worth the one-and-fourpence.\u201d\u2014_Saturday Review._\n\n\n(_Dedicated by gracious permission to Her Majesty the Queen._)\n\nSONGS OF THE NORTH. (New Edition.) Gathered together from the Highlands\nand Lowlands of Scotland. Edited by A. C. MACLEOD and HAROLD BOULTON.\nThe Music arranged by MALCOLM LAWSON. Frontispiece \u201cProud Maisie,\u201d by\nFRED SANDYS. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Twelve-and-Sixpence.\n\n\u201cA book that singers will like to have and the public will be wise to\nget.\u201d\u2014_The Scotsman._\n\n\nTHE FIRST YEAR OF A SILKEN REIGN (1837-8). By ANDREW W. TUER & CHS. E.\nFAGAN. With Ten Illustrations from contemporary plates. \u201c... proudly\narched neck advancing ... uncurbed with silken rein unfelt.\u201d\u2014_Anon._\n\nCONTENTS.\u2014The Accession: Reminiscences: Early Days of the New Reign:\nFestivities and Public Appearances: The London of the Period: Society of\nthe Period: Coaching: The Dawn of the Railway Era: Sport: Music, Drama,\nand Amusements: Art and Ceremonial: The Coronation.\n\n  [Six Shillings.\n\nLONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n\n(_Dedicated by gracious permission to Her Majesty the Queen._)\n\nTHE FOLLIES AND FASHIONS OF OUR GRAND-FATHERS (1807). Embellished with\nThirty-seven whole-page Plates of Ladies\u2019 and Gentlemen\u2019s Dress\n(hand-coloured and heightened with gold and silver), Sporting and\nCoaching Scenes, &c., &c. By ANDREW W. TUER. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The\nLeadenhall Press, E.C.\n\nLarge Paper copies, crown 4to, with _earliest impressions_ of the\nplates; 250 only, signed and numbered, at Three Guineas.\n\nDemy 8vo copies at Twenty-five Shillings.\n\n\u201cMay at any time be confidently dipped into by readers in search of\nquiet diversion.\u201d\u2014_Graphic._\n\n\nJOHN BULL AND HIS ISLAND. (Cheap Edition.) Translated from the French by\nthe Author, MAX O\u2019RELL. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\nTranslated into almost every European language, upwards of two hundred\nthousand copies of \u201cJohn Bull and his Island\u201d have been disposed of, and\nthis remarkable book is still selling.\n\n\nA SET OF FOUR HUNTING AND RACING STORIES. By W. B. GILPIN. LONDON: Field\n& Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Two Shillings.\n\n\n_A New Edition, Revised and Enlarged of_\n\nTHE PERFECT WAY; or, THE FINDING OF CHRIST. (Now first published under\nthe Authors\u2019 names.) By ANNA KINGSFORD, M.D. (Paris), and EDWARD\nMAITLAND, B.A. (Cantab.) LONDON: Field & Tuer, The Leadenhall Press,\nE.C.\n\n  [Twelve-and-Sixpence.\n\n\u201cOne of the most\u2014perhaps the most\u2014important and spirit-stirring of\nappeals to the highest instincts of mankind which modern European\nliterature has evolved.\u201d\u2014_Theosophist._\n\n\nTHE IDLE THOUGHTS OF AN IDLE FELLOW. By JEROME K. JEROME, Author of \u201cOn\nthe Stage\u2014and Off.\u201d A book for an Idle Hour. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The\nLeadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Half-a-Crown.\n\n\u201cThe _Idle Thoughts_ by JEROME, with his special private views, Is a\nbook all busy people should undoubtedly peruse.\u201d\u2014_Punch._\n\n\n_DRAT_ THE BOYS! or, RECOLLECTIONS OF AN EX-FRENCH MASTER IN ENGLAND. By\nMAX O\u2019RELL, author of \u201cJohn Bull and his Island,\u201d &c., &c. LONDON: Field\n& Tuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Two Shillings.\n\n\nOUR GRANDMOTHERS\u2019 GOWNS. By Mrs. ALFRED W. HUNT. With Twenty-Four\nHand-coloured Illustrations, drawn by G. R. HALKETT. LONDON: Field &\nTuer, The Leadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [Seven-and-Sixpence.\n\nMrs. Hunt gives a short history of the dress of the period, in which she\ncarefully preserves the original descriptions of the plates as given in\ncontemporary fashion-books.\n\n\nTHE PYRAMIDS AND TEMPLES OF GIZEH. By W. M. FLINDERS PETRIE. Containing\nan account of excavations and surveys carried on at Gizeh during\n1880-1-2; with the application of the results to various modern theories\nof the pyramids. (Illustrated.) LONDON: Field & Tuer. Cheap and revised\nedition.\n\n  [Six Shillings.\n\n\u201cNo one can fail to profit by a study of Mr. Flinders Petrie\u2019s exact and\nluminous account of the Pyramids and Temples of Gizeh.\u201d\u2014_Spectator._\n\n\nJOHN OLDCASTLE\u2019S GUIDE FOR LITERARY BEGINNERS. LONDON: Field & Tuer, The\nLeadenhall Press, E.C.\n\n  [One Shilling.\n\n\u201cIs the only practical and common sense book on the subject we know of.\u201d\n\n\n\n\u201cWith Bad Paper, one\u2019s Best is impossible.\u201d\n\nThe Author\u2019s Paper Pad (Issued by the Proprietors of The Leadenhall\nPress). Contains, in block form, fifty sheets of paper, fibrous and\ndifficult to tear as a piece of linen, over which\u2014being of unusual but\nnot painful smoothness\u2014the pen slips with perfect freedom. Easily\ndetachable, the size of the sheets is about 7\u00bd \u00d7 8\u00be in., and the\nprice is only that usually charged for common scribbling paper. THE\nAUTHOR\u2019S PAPER PAD may be comfortably used, whether at the desk, held in\nthe hand, or resting on the knee. As being most convenient for both\nauthor and compositor, the paper is ruled the narrow way, and of course\non one side only.\u2014_Sixpence each, 5/- per dozen, ruled or plain._\n\n\nThe Leadenhall Press, 50, Leadenhall Street, London, E.C.","title":"Tales from the Lands of Nuts and Grapes (Spanish and Portuguese Folklore)","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":35823}