vined too well was dissent. They looked rather than
expressed a keen little disappointment; the mother began a faint
insistence, but the daughter would not suffer it. Here was the pride of
poverty, if not poverty itself, and it was with a pang that we parted
from these mutely appealing ladies. We could not have borne it if we had
not instantly promised ourselves to come the next day and meet them and
go home with them and buy all their _encajes_ that we had money for. We
kept our promise, and we came the next day and the next and every day
we remained in Seville, and lingered so long that we implanted in the
cabmen beside the curbing the inextinguishable belief that we were in
need of a cab; but we never saw those dear ladies again.

These are some of the cruel memories which the happiest travel leaves,
and I gratefully recall that in the case of a custodian of the Columbian
Museum, which adjoins the cathedral, we did not inflict a pang that
rankled in our hearts for long. I gave him a handful of copper coins
which I thought made up a peseta, but his eyes were keener, and a sorrow
gloomed his brow which projected its shadow so darkly over us when we
went into the cathedral for one of our daily looks that we hastened to
return and make up the full peseta with another heap of coppers; a whole
sunburst of smiles illumined his face, and a rainbow of the brightest
colors arched our sky and still arches it whenever we think of that
custodian and his rehabilitated trust in man.

This seems the crevice where I can crowd in the fact that bits of family
wash hung from the rail of the old pulpit in the Court of Oranges beside
the cathedral, and a pumpkin vine lavishly decorated an arcade near a
doorway which perhaps gave into the dwelling of that very custodian. At
the same time I must not fail to urge the reader's seeing the Columbian
Museum, which is richly interesting and chiefly for those Latin and
Italian authors annotated by the immortal admiral's own hand. These give
the American a sense of him as the discoverer of our hemisphere which
nothing else could, and insurpassably render the New World credible.
At the same time they somehow bring a lump of pity and piety into the
throat at the thought of the things he did and suffered. They bring him
from history and make him at home in the beholder's heart, and there
seems a mystical significance in the fact that the volume most abounding
in marginalia should be _Seneca's Propheci