ce of copper in the open
palm to my face, and back to the piece of copper.

Instead, however, of restoring it to me, his indignation seemed to
inspire him with a sudden resolution. He rushed to a kneeling Senorita a
few paces distant, and interrupting her devotions by a pull at the side
of her mantilla, he showed the coin in the open hand, while with the
other he pointed to the culprit. If he meditated revenge, he should have
made another choice, instead of deranging a garment, from the folds of
which a real Andalucian mouth and pair of eyes, turning full on me,
aimed a smile which, I need not inform you, was not dear at two
_quartos_.

Could such a smile have been natural, and the expression of mere
curiosity, or was it intended for a death-wound, dealt for another's
vengeance? and did the velvet language of those eyes signify a horrible
"Pallas te hoc vulnere," in favour of the ragamuffin I had offended? At
all events, the incident lost him a more munificent remuneration, by
driving me from the spot, and expelling from my head, a project
previously formed, of inviting him to my _fonda_ to be sketched.

With regard to the oft and still recurring subject of Spanish beauty,
you are hereby warned against giving ear to what may be said by
tourists, who, by way of taking a new view of an old subject, simply
give the lie to their predecessors. It is true, that in the central
provinces, the genuine characteristic Moro-Iberian beauty is rare, and
that there is little of any other sort to replace it; but this is not
the case with Andalucia, where you may arrive fresh from the perusal of
the warm effusions of the most smitten of poets, and find the Houris of
real flesh and blood, by no means overrated.

One of their peculiar perfections extends to all parts of the Peninsula.
This is the hair; everywhere your eye lights upon some passing specimen
of these unrivalled masses of braided jet; at which not unfrequently
natives of the same sex turn with an exclamation--Que pelo tan hermoso!

I surprised the other day a village matron, whose toilette, it being a
holiday afternoon, was in progress in no more secluded a _tocador_ than
the middle of the road. The rustic lady's-maid (whether the practice be
more or less fashionable I know not) had placed on a stool, within reach
of her right hand as she stood behind her seated mistress, a jug of
fresh water. This did she lift, just as I approached, up to her mouth,
into which she recei