Spanish Highways and Byways

s sweet,

ou thi

moon, and stars, brother, all sweet things; there's likewise a win

ld wish

a fool-were you a Rommany Chal you would talk wiser. Wish

ckness,

e sun and st

ndness,

gladly live forever. Dosta, we'll now go to the tents and put on the gloves;

ge Bo

ciety, he spent some five adventurous years in Spain, wandering through the wilds and sharing the life of shepherds, muleteers, even the fierce gitanos. As he found the Spanish gypsies half a century ago, so, in

even such arrant thieves, although it would still

a swine down

as e'e

runs he cr

eal me, G

omising is the C

porch of

t the gyp

stolen the swa

w-born Ho

e swarthy

t the ras

ot left the

shred t

f fashion, in several Spanish cities. Seville has her gypsy lawyer, but her gypsy bull-fig

are hopeful signs. The gitanos drive a sharp trade in donkeys, but their forge fires, gleaming far up the Albaicín in the evening, testify to their industry. The recent opening by the municipality of schools for the gypsy children has already wrought a marked change for the better. Some half-dozen dirty little palms, outstretched for cinco centimos, pes

olves to their banquet, are picturesque figures enough, the men in peaked hats, spangled jackets, and sashes of red silk, the w

ur attendant Spaniard and ask, sotto voce, "But is this truly the Gypsy King?" you will receive a prompt affirmative, while the quick-witted old masquerader strikes a royal attitude, rolls his eyes prodigiously, and twirls his three-cornered hat at arm's length above hi

sunshine of his favor. In fact we often made a wide detour rather than pass him on the hill, for he would spring to his feet at our remotest approach and stand bowing l

as in Moorish times the chosen residence of the aristocracy. Still Arabian arches span the gorge, and many of the toppling old houses that lean over the swift, mountain-born current, shabby as they look to the passer-by, are beautiful within with arabesque and fretwork, carven niches, delicate columns and open patios, where fountains st

ty and beyond the fruitful plain of Granada, its vivid green shading into a far-off dimness like the sea. Just opposite us rose the fortress of the Alhambra, a proud though broken gir

persistent tug at my skirts, and reluctantly dropped my eyes on a comely littl

do with cinco centim

ointed to her mouth. "Buy a rusk. I am

r eyes in token of her mortal extremity, but inst

re not the che

gh she was, in looking so haggard and so woe-begone that our political economy broke d

ometimes as a hoop, sometimes as a crown, sometimes as a peephole. She tossed it, sang through it, dandled it, stroked it, and occasionally, while the bread approximated more and more in hue to her own g

whose chimneys rise abruptly out of the green surface of the hillside. Dens as they are, the best of them possess some decencies. Flaps of cloth serve them for doors, their peering fronts are whitewashed, they are furnished with a stool or two, a box of tools or clothing, a few water-jars, a gu

f we had gone back to German fairy tales and had fallen into the evil grip of the gnomes. Hardly could escort, carriage, and a reckless rain of coppers break the spell. We were forced to taste their repulsive messes, to cross witch palms with silver, to buy even the roadside weeds the urchi

ing his slender brown body on the iron rail; the bright-kerchiefed young mother, thrusting her tiny black bantling into our faces; the silent, swarthy men who lean along the bridge side, lithe even in their lounging;-all have a latent fierceness in their look. Their eyes are keen as knives-strange eyes, whose glitter masks the depth. But as we go on into the potter's suburb of Triana, into the thick of the gypsy life, we are not more seriously molested than by the continual begging, nor

the gay-handled Albacete knives and daggers. There are baskets upon baskets of rainbow fans, mimic fighting cocks, oranges, and other cheap Sevillian specialties. Cooling drinks are on sale at every turn, but there is no drunkenness. There are thousands and tens of thousands of people in motion, but there is no bustling, no elbowing, no rudeness of pressure. Dainty little children wander alone in that tr

and close-set globes of gas, looped on running tubes along both sides of these three festal streets, pour floods of light into the casetas. Chinese lanterns in red and yellow abound, and

rs for the more remote houselets on the two streets that branch off at right angles. The numerous byways are occupied by cafés, booths, penny shows, and the like, the gypsies having one side of a lane to themselves. The other side is given over to circus-rings, merry-go-rounds, cradle-swings marked "For Havana," "For Manila,"

ectacle, and their simplicity makes them an easy spoil for the canny folk of Egypt. You see them especially in the cool of the early morning, when trade in cattle is at its liveliest. Ten to one they have been fleeced already by the gitanos, who, out in the great

oidered in many-colored patterns of birds and flowers. The younger enchantresses keep watch, each in front of her family tent, before whose part

g you into their tented prisons, from which you must gnaw your way out through a heap of hot bu?uelos. Or you may compromise on a cup of Spanish chocolate, flavored with cinnamon and thick as flannel, or perhaps win your liberty b

sands left. This is a grand time for the children, who disport themselves in the avenues with whistles, swords, balls, kites, and other trophies from the toy booths. These little people are exquisitely dressed, often in the old Andalusian c

a piano, and a central stand of flowers; while semicircles of silent ladies, languidly waving the most exquisite of fans, sit nearer the front, watching the ceaseless stream of pedestrians, and beyond these the double procession of carriages, which keep close rank as they advance on on

kind of contrivance for relieving humanity of its own weight. There are mounted cavaliers in plenty, and occasionally, under due masculine escort, a fair-haired English girl rides by, or a group

ull it down over his bashful eyes, stamped and kicked, made stealthy approaches and fierce starts of attack through the savage hunting jigs inherited from the ancient life of the wilderness. The women swung their arms and shrilled wild tunes to urge the children on, but a second youngster who attempted one of these barbaric dances for us broke down in mid career, and, amid a chorus of screaming laughter, buried his blushes in his mother's lap.

brown, bewitching faces peeping out from the lace folds of white mantillas, with white shawls, embroidered in glowing hues, folded over the arm, and delicate white fans in hand, they look the very poetry of maidenhood. Months of saving, weeks of stitching, these costumes may have cost, but the Feria is, above all, a marriage mart, and the Andalusian

look thee i

this thy hop

o to the m

and not

y stand before the casetas and see the choicest daughters of Seville dancing the dance that is very coquetry in motion. Rows of girls awaiting their turn, and of matrons who are chaperoning the spectacle, sit about the three sides of the mimic drawing-room. A dense crowd of men, crying "Ole! Ole!" and commenting as freely on the figures and postures of the dancers as if they were ballet artistes in a café chantant, is gathered close in front. For their view these rhyt

itfulness, the abandon, of each strange series of abrupt gesticulations. Yet these gypsy women, boldly as they play on the passions of the spectators, care

ypsy, hath, at

o the very he

appings, strummings of the guitar, and frenzied beatings of the floor with staff and stool. Yet their excitement, even at its apparent height, never sweeps them out of their crafty selves. Beyond the dancer they see the audie

ng of the