screant disappeared as rapidly as
she approached, and left us floating a helpless log, on a sea
proverbial for storms.

We contrived, however, to reach the port of Ferrol, in Spain, where we
were detained four months, in consequence of the difficulty of
obtaining the materials for repairs, notwithstanding this place is
considered the best and largest ship-yard of Castile.

It was at Ferrol that I met with a singular adventure, which was
well-nigh depriving me of my personal identity, as Peter Schlemhil was
deprived of his shadow. I went one afternoon in my boat to the other
side of the harbor to obtain some pieces of leather from a tannery,
and, having completed my purchase, was lounging slowly towards the
quay, when I stopped at a house for a drink of water. I was handed a
tumbler by the trim-built, black-eyed girl, who stood in the doorway,
and whose rosy lips and sparkling eyes were more the sources of my
thirst than the water; but, while I was drinking, the damsel ran into
the dwelling, and hastily returned with her mother and another sister,
who stared at me a moment without saying a word, and simultaneously
fell upon my neck, smothering my lips and cheeks with repeated kisses!

"_Oh! mi querido hijo_," said the mother.

"_Carissimo Antonio_," sobbed the daughter.

"_Mi hermano!_" exclaimed her sister.

"Dear son, dear Antonio, dear brother! Come into the house; where have
you been? Your grandmother is dying to see you once more! Don't delay
an instant, but come in without a word! _Por dios!_ that we should
have caught you at last, and in such a way: _Ave Maria! madrecita,
aqui viene Antonito!_"

In the midst of all these exclamations, embraces, fondlings, and
kisses, it may easily be imagined that I stood staring about me with
wide eyes and mouth, and half-drained tumbler in hand, like one in a
dream. I asked no questions, but as the dame was buxom, and the girls
were fresh, I kissed in return, and followed unreluctantly as they
half dragged, half carried me into their domicil. On the door-sill of
the inner apartment I found myself locked in the skinny arms of a
brown and withered crone, who was said to be my grandmother, and, of
course, my youthful _moustache_ was properly bedewed with the moisture
of her toothless mouth.

As soon as I was seated, I took the liberty to say,--though without
any protest against this charming assault,--that I fancied there might
possibly be some mistake; but I was quickly