The Way From Salamanca To
Valladolid Is Amongst A Medley Of Bridle-Paths And Drift-Ways,
Where Discrimination Is Very Difficult.
It was not long before we
were bewildered, and travelled over more ground than was strictly
necessary.
However, as men and women frequently passed on donkeys
and little ponies, we were not too proud to be set right by them,
and by dint of diligent inquiry we at length arrived at Pitiegua,
four leagues from Salamanca, a small village, containing about
fifty families, consisting of mud huts, and situated in the midst
of dusty plains, where corn was growing in abundance. We asked for
the house of the cura, an old man whom I had seen the day before at
the Irish College, and who, on being informed that I was about to
depart for Valladolid, had exacted from me a promise that I would
not pass through his village without paying him a visit and
partaking of his hospitality.
A woman directed us to a cottage somewhat superior in appearance to
those contiguous. It had a small portico, which, if I remember
well, was overgrown with a vine. We knocked loud and long at the
door, but received no answer; the voice of man was silent, and not
even a dog barked. The truth was, that the old curate was taking
his siesta, and so were his whole family, which consisted of one
ancient female and a cat. The good man was at last disturbed by
our noise and vociferation, for we were hungry, and consequently
impatient. Leaping from his couch, he came running to the door in
great hurry and confusion, and perceiving us, he made many
apologies for being asleep at a period when, he said, he ought to
have been on the lookout for his invited guest. He embraced me
very affectionately and conducted me into his parlour, an apartment
of tolerable size, hung round with shelves, which were crowded with
books. At one end there was a kind of table or desk covered with
black leather, with a large easy chair, into which he pushed me, as
I, with the true eagerness of a bibliomaniac, was about to inspect
his shelves; saying, with considerable vehemence, that there was
nothing there worthy of the attention of an Englishman, for that
his whole stock consisted of breviaries and dry Catholic treatises
on divinity.
His care now was to furnish us with refreshments. In a twinkling,
with the assistance of his old attendant, he placed on the table
several plates of cakes and confectionery, and a number of large
uncouth glass bottles, which I thought bore a strong resemblance to
those of Schiedam, and indeed they were the very same. "There,"
said he, rubbing his hands; "I thank God that it is in my power to
treat you in a way which will be agreeable to you. In those
bottles there is Hollands thirty years old"; and producing two
large tumblers, he continued, "fill, my friends, and drink, drink
it every drop if you please, for it is of little use to myself, who
seldom drink aught but water.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 153 of 424
Words from 80533 to 81054
of 222596
