We Visited Cuenca, Segovia, And Many An Out-Of-The-Way Spot.
If it be true, as Don Quixote declares, that 'No hay libro
tan malo que no tenga alguna cosa buena' ('there is no book
so worthless that has not some good in it'), still more true
is this of a country like Spain.
And the pleasantest places
are just those which only by-roads lead to. In and near the
towns every other man, if not by profession still by
practice, is a beggar. From the seedy-looking rascal in the
street, of whom you incautiously ask the way, and who
piteously whines 'para zapatos' - for the wear and tear of
shoe leather, to the highest official, one and all hold out
their hands for the copper CUARTO or the eleemosynary
sinecure. As it was then, so is it now; the Government wants
support, and it is always to be had, at a price; deputies
always want 'places.' For every duty the functionary
performs, or ought to perform, he receives his bribe. The
Government is too poor to keep him honest, but his POUR-
BOIRES are not measured by his scruples. All is winked at,
if the Ministry secures a vote.
Away in the pretty rural districts, in the little villages
amid the woods and the mountains, with their score or so of
houses and their little chapel with its tinkling old bell and
its poverty-stricken curate, the hard-working, simple-minded
men are too proud and too honest to ask for more than a pinch
of tobacco for the CIGARILLO.
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