In Little More Than Half An Hour We Arrived At A Brook, Whose
Waters Ran Vigorously Between Steep Banks.
A man who was standing
on the side directed me to the ford in the squeaking dialect of
Portugal; but whilst I was yet splashing through the water, a voice
from the other bank hailed me, in the magnificent language of
Spain, in this guise:
"O Senor Caballero, que me de usted una
limosna por amor de Dios, una limosnita para que io me compre un
traguillo de vino tinto" (Charity, Sir Cavalier, for the love of
God, bestow an alms upon me, that I may purchase a mouthful of red
wine). In a moment I was on Spanish ground, as the brook, which is
called Acaia, is the boundary here of the two kingdoms, and having
flung the beggar a small piece of silver, I cried in ecstasy
"Santiago y cierra Espana!" and scoured on my way with more speed
than before, paying, as Gil Blas says, little heed to the torrent
of blessings which the mendicant poured forth in my rear: yet
never was charity more unwisely bestowed, for I was subsequently
informed that the fellow was a confirmed drunkard, who took his
station every morning at the ford, where he remained the whole day
for the purpose of extorting money from the passengers, which he
regularly spent every night in the wine-shops of Badajoz. To those
who gave him money he returned blessings, and to those who refused,
curses; being equally skilled and fluent in the use of either.
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