r of nimble feet, scorning the trammels of leather, pick their way
skillfully along the stony path. That she does not contemn ornament,
is shown by her one small golden ear-ring, long since divorced from
its mate, and the devout faith which glows in her bosom is symbolized
by the little silver image of our lady, slung from her neck by a
silken cord, spun by her own silk worms, and twisted by her own hands.
In short, she is neither beautiful, nor noble, nor rich; yet her
company seems instantly to smooth the road and lighten the toils of
travel to her swain. He helps himself, unasked, out of her basket, and
urges her to partake of the stores of his leathern wallet--hard goat's
cheese--and the crumbling loaf of _broa_, or maize bread. Soon in deep
and sweet conference, in their crabbed, but expressive tongue, he
forgets to make occasional use of his goad, and thus keeping pace with
the loitering bullocks, they go leisurely along. Let them pass on, and
wait for better game.

Turn and look at this cavalcade toiling up toward you. A sudden bend
in the road has brought it into view, and its aspect, half native,
half foreign--its mixed civil and military character--attract
attention. Two mounted orderlies, in a British uniform, lead the way,
and are followed by a clumsy Lisbon coach, every part of it well laden
with luggage. It is drawn by four noble mules, such as are seldom seen
out of the peninsula, deserving more stylish postillions than those
who, in ragged jackets, greasy leathern breeches and huge jack boots,
are urging them on. Two men sit at ease on the coach box. One, a tall
young fellow, looks at a distance like a field-officer in a flashy
uniform, but is only an English footman in a gaudy livery, who needs
the training of a London winter or two, in a fashionable household, to
make him a flunky of the first water. The other, an old man, with a
severe countenance, is plainly dressed, but, with a less brilliant
exterior, has a more respectable air than his companion. He, too, is
the man in authority as, from time to time, he directs the party and
urges them on in somewhat impatient tones.

If you are familiar with the country and the times, you may imagine
that some British general officer has been so long in the peninsula,
that he has adopted the style and equipage of Cuesta, and some other
Spanish leaders, and fallen into their habits of slow and dignified
motion. You will think it high time for him to be sent home